Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, October 29, 1993 TAG: 9310290366
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BOB ZELLER STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: ROCKINGHAM, N.C. LENGTH: Long
"Ford fans shoot you the bird when they go by, but on the average, more people toot their horns in support," he says. "All my kids get into it. We're all die-hard Earnhardt fans."
Sanoske's 26-year-old brother, Rich, offered this story:
"I got married on May 24, 1992. And when we got to the reception site, I told 'em to turn on the TV because the race was on. My wife got upset. I was in the doghouse right off the bat. But I said, `Put on the TV before the reception starts.'
"There were two laps to go in the [Coca-Cola] 600. And I watched Dale cross the finish line first at Charlotte at my wedding reception. To me, that was the best wedding present I got."
Earnhardt's public relations man, Kevin Triplett, can top that.
"Last year, a pregnant lady in Oklahoma City was standing in the autograph line at a Chevy dealership," Triplett says. "She was still an hour from Earnhardt and her labor pains were three minutes apart. I couldn't believe it. She was still in line. I took her to the front and she got her autograph and I took her straight out the side door and her husband packed her in the car and off they went to the hospital."
But Earnhardt's own stories top them all: "Ken Schrader and I flew down somewhere in Indiana to do a match race on dirt and an autograph session. Some lady came up with her husband and asked me to sign her panties. I said, `Well, if your husband doesn't mind.'
"She said, `You have to sign his, too.'
"She pulled her pants down and they had a Dale Earnhardt car embroidered on it with my name. He had the same thing on his underwear. I signed both and said, `You're welcome.'
"Some lady wanted me to drive a hearse. Her husband died, and she called the office and wanted me to drive the hearse in the funeral. I didn't do it."
These are the manifestations of the rabid dedication that Dale Earnhardt inspires in his fans. At 42, still in the prime of his racing career, battling for his sixth Winston Cup championship against Rusty Wallace, Earnhardt clearly is the king of the Winston Cup series.
But his T-shirts favor the titles: "Black Knight" and "The Intimidator." This outlaw attitude has made Earnhardt perhaps the most-loved, most-hated driver ever in stock car racing.
He has grown comfortable in that role. There was a time, in the 1970s and early 1980s, when he was so painfully shy that he was hostile.
"It was dang near impossible to deal with him then," says Bill Broderick, the golden-haired public relations man for Unocal who runs victory lane at most tracks. "He didn't like to be told what to do. He didn't like to be touched. He took things the wrong way. But he has matured so much. He knows exactly what's going on and likes to have a little more control in victory lane than other drivers."
Says Winston Cup driver Mark Martin, "He's done the best for the longest in our sport. He's done a lot of things on the race track that grab your attention. He's as tough as they come, and he's a fun driver to watch. If I was a race fan, I'd be a Dale Earnhardt fan."
Far more fans, at every track, wear Earnhardt shirts than those of any other driver.
At North Wilkesboro on a quiet Friday morning before practice, when only a handful of fans are present, a few of his fans always are at the fence, looking for Earnhardt. When they see him, they let loose with a mournful, moose-like call: "DAY-ULL! DAAAAAYULLLLLL!"
Earnhardt almost never looks up.
When he appears on the track, or when his car is pushed onto pit road, from Phoenix to Charlotte to Daytona, the loud roar from the stands overwhelms the reception received by anyone else. With its even mix of cheers and boos, it is a strange-sounding roar.
"As long as they're hollerin' . . .," Earnhardt says.
"Everybody loves an underdog," says fellow driver Kyle Petty. "But everybody hates a winner. And they'll boo him just to argue."
Says Earnhardt, "I care about fans, but I don't worry about what they say about me. They love to hate you. But I don't sit around and diagnose these things. I try to work hard, go hunting, go fishing, work on the tractor at the farm. I do whatever I want to do that day."
At the Earnhardt-decorated motor home, the Sanoskes are asked if they've ever met their hero.
They shake their heads.
"The closest I've ever been to him is from here to that guy standing over there," John says, pointing to a man 50 feet away. "I've seen him through the fence at the garage."
Earnhardt mania is such that the Sanoskes can stake no claim to uniqueness with their motor home. Scattered throughout the Rockingham infield are a half-dozen buses or motor homes dressed in Earnhardt black, emblazoned with the No. 3 on their sides.
Clayton Trapp, 27, of Columbia, S.C., has a fully dressed out 1961 Viking school bus. He gets the same reaction on the road as the Sanoskes: "Either thumbs up or the middle finger."
Has Trapp ever met the five-time champion?
"Nope, never have," he says. "Always wanted to."
In another part of the infield, three South Carolina boys are drinking beer and arguing about Ford, Chevrolet and Dale Earnhardt.
"I like him 'cause he's a damn Chevrolet driver and I was raised on Chevrolet and I like hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet," says Randy Jenkins, 32, of Pageland, S.C.
Says Ed Lanier, 28, of Myrtle Beach, "I hate him because he'll get out of the race car and walk straight to his trailer and won't talk to you."
This often is true. But the garage usually is overrun with fans: friends of friends of somebody with the clout to get garage passes.
Car owner Richard Childress, from inside his car hauler, looks at a group of them clustered around the back of the trailer.
"Race fans are very fortunate to get into the garage area," he says. "You can't walk into the dugout and ask Jeff Blauser of the Atlanta Braves for an autograph. You can't go into the locker room and ask [Miami Dolphins quarterback] Dan Marino for an autograph."
To avoid the crush, Earnhardt usually retreats to the custom-upholstered lounge at the front end of the trailer. Admittance most assuredly is by invitation only. Blauser and Ned Yost, an Atlanta Braves coach, dropped by Saturday, and they made it into the inner sanctum.
The congestion around the Earnhardt trailer reaches its peak when he hangs out there. This happened after qualifying Saturday.
A gaggle of insistent fans - men, women and children who somehow wrangled garage passes - peered into the back of the trailer, catching a glimpse of Earnhardt from time to time amid the shuffle of family, friends and crew.
Several reporters were there, cooling their heels and wondering how their luck would be that day, because there's no guarantee you get to talk to him. It's like an at-bat. Sometimes you strike out. Sometimes you get a hit.
Stevie Reeves, the USAC Midget champion, chatted with a crewman at the front of the race car parked at the trailer, waiting to see if he would get a turn.
The crew, meanwhile, tried to work around the bedlam. Earnhardt approached the edge of the trailer to talk with his wife, Teresa, and daughter, Taylor.
The fans shouted at him. He turned and acknowledged them, but said, "I'm talking to my wife." They kept shouting.
A few moments later, with a slight nod of his head, Earnhardt offered an invitation to the lounge to several reporters, and they headed back there with him.
When the door closed, all outside noise ceased. Everyone took a seat on the big, three-sided black leather couch around a table. Earnhardt kicked his feet up, grabbed a remote and changed the television channel to country music videos but kept the sound off.
"It's been a whirlwind deal in the last six to eight years," he said. "I don't think you ever feel comfortable in the role [of a star]. There are times, like now, when you can kick back, talk about things and relax. Other times, when I'm trying to focus on practice and qualifying and somebody comes up and asks you questions, that is not a good time.
"But I've come a long ways. I still upset press guys and fans sometimes, and my crew. Most of the time, I get through the day pretty well."
Triplett, Earnhardt's press aide, broke into the session, still frantic and harried from doing battle on the front lines at the other end of the trailer.
He persuaded Earnhardt to sign a poster "for that Soap Box Derby car family" and described how he had just been chewed out, yelled at and grilled while running interference.
"Kevin, I got a place at the farm for you," Earnhardt said, consolingly.
"Thank you," said Triplett. "Starting tomorrow, I may need it."
"Hey, c'mon down, buddy," Earnhardt said.
And then, as they looked at each other, they uttered the same words at the same moment: "I'm serious."
Keywords:
AUTO RACAING
by CNB