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PUBLISHER'S BLOG - When Drag Racing collides with the NFL
Let me begin by saying there’s no way I could make up something this sordid. In being the Publisher of Torco’s CompetitionPlus.com, I am privy to some of the perks of hanging with our title rights sponsor Evan Knoll, Torco Race Fuels President. During the course of our association, we have developed a strong relationship both professionally and personally. As Evan likes to say, “Your barbeque is to babysit me.” Those who know this man, the one who sponsors nearly everything short of midget cross-country runners, understand fully that he’s not a conventional kind of individual. Our story begins the Tuesday prior to the Super Bowl weekend. I am hammering away following up on advertising programs and posting new stories when my cell phone rings. At this point in time, I had already told our secretary Diane that I would return all calls except for one – Evan’s. I always take that call. “What are you doing Sunshine?” He asked. “I need you to come up Thursday and Friday for marketing meetings. I want you to plan to go home on Monday afternoon. We’re going to the Super Bowl.”
THURSDAY, WANNA GET A DIVORCE?
It was actually warmer in Kalamazoo, MI., than my native homeland of Spartanburg, SC., when I landed about 2 PM. That should have been my clue that things were going to be abnormal. I reached the Knoll compound after a 45 minute limo ride. Of course, Evan’s isn’t your run-of-the-mill residence. After being greeted by stuffed wolves (straight from the State of Idaho Wildlife Commission) and other critters whose species has yet to be determined, I find Evan hard at work making deals for his other ventures outside of work. I didn’t want to bother Evan, so I went down to the Torco Racing Fuels, Inc., headquarters to check in with my buddies and teammates Latrell Preston, Brian Pfeifer, Terry McMillen and “Dyno” Dave Heitzman. After helping Brian and Latrell get the satellite in Evan’s coach working, I am summoned to the house because (A) he wants a sandwich from Subway and (B) we’ve got trouble brewing on the public relations front for the company. Evan made the decision to discontinue his “Divorce Gear” advertising campaign and asked me to distribute it to the media. With that fire put out, the balance of the day was as tame as it could be around Evan’s house. Tame and Evan’s house? Are you kidding me?
FRIDAY, ASK FOR MEATPIE
I woke for the morning just as Evan and Dave were headed to bed. Nine out of ten deals for Torco Racing Fuels, Inc. are brokered in the 2:30 until 3:00 AM time frame. I was not involved in any deal making the previous evening and wondered had I missed anything important. However, as events of the day transpired, I realized that I needed the rest I had gotten the night before. The plan was to leave at noon, but various delays kept us in Decatur until 2 PM. When we left, it was a celebrated affair attended by co-workers, friends and family. I think the frazzling process began at our evening lunch (yes, you read that right, lunch) stop at a Cracker Barrel restaurant. After an in-depth discussion over the importance of sawmill gravy and country fried steak in today’s society, we came to the conclusion that Evan’s mild headache was enough cause for Dave to take over the wheel. It was also determined that the draining battery on my Canon EOS Rebel digital camera might not last until the Super Bowl halftime show. With the added pressure of my 16-year-old son Kelli's stipulation that if I didn’t get a picture of Mick Jagger strutting during the halftime show there was no reason for me to come home, I convinced Evan that we needed a few extra supplies and a battery charger for my camera. When K-Mart didn’t have it, I walked next door to Sam’s Club but they didn’t have it either. As fate would have it, Dave made a wrong turn out of the K-Mart and we couldn’t have had a better outcome when a Circuit City miraculously appeared on our right. We went in there and after some searching, found a charger. Driving down the road we then realized we had bought a worthless charger as far as this camera was concerned.
Darkness had already fallen on Detroit as we entered the city limits and anyone who has lived around the Motor City will tell you there’s parts of the town you don’t want to be around in the daytime much less after dark. Latrell, Torco’s CFO had decided to ride over later in his personal vehicle, but had made our tailgating reservations. His instructions led us to the parking lot where we were to hook up with a gentleman named “Meatpie.” I don’t know about you, but this immediately sent up a red flag as far as I was concerned. It didn’t seem to bother Evan, leading me to believe there are others from Michigan who answer to the nickname Meatpie. Let me tell you about our tailgating lot. It was dead in the middle of an area that even gangsters didn’t enter. The street signs had enough graffiti on them that they should have buckled under the weight of the paint. Oh yeah, there were some stares and rightfully so. It’s not everyday you see three middle-aged Caucasions riding through the 'hood in a $350,000 motor coach. We were just relieved that we passed safely through there without getting shot, or at least having our ride adorned in graffiti. To confirm your thoughts, I pulled every shade down and locked the doors. Evan had Dave check to see if we could park in the MGM Grand Casino parking lot. At first the answer was a polite “No.” That didn’t stop Dave from sweet-talking one of the managers named Lisa until she went to an upper boss. I promise you this. Dave started spewing a line of sweet talking that nearly caused the place to smell with the stench of bull excrement. It was a good thing I wore my boots because it got real deep. How deep? I am convinced that if Dave had the opportunity he’d sweet talk a nun into a date. I’m not sure who offered the worst, Lisa giving directions or Dave following them. a
d v e r t i s e m e n t RAP CONCERT AND A DEAD BODY, YEAH THAT’S WHAT WE NEEDED
If you’ve ever driven in Times Square and Manhattan, you can only imagine what traffic is like in Detroit when a rap concert cuts loose. I’ve seen a lot of drag racing in my day including the first four second run and the first 300 mile per hour speed, but nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever compare to driving a 45-foot coach in traffic. We squeezed through places that still have me puckered up to this day. Michigan has no law mandating hands-free phones and Dave navigated the process with a phone affixed to his ear, getting directions from Lisa. Once we got out of the traffic, we found our way back to the Interstate only to be met with more traffic. As we were creeping along, we noticed the reason for the slow down. A score of police cars were stopped on the on-ramp surrounding a dead body on the street. The average person would have already headed home. Not us. We made our way down the freeway and finally saw the MGM Grand. However, we didn’t have a clue how to get there, even though it was in our sight. A few wrong turns and I was convinced we ended up in Meatpie’s backyard again. Just as that was going on, we got a call back from Lisa informing us the boss had changed his mind. I think at this time Dave had two hours of sweet talking time in. Evan finally had enough and decided we’d hit a truck stop for the night and try the MGM in the morning. A good bit of searching led us to a truck stop, but if you think this is where this chapter of the the story ends, you'd be wrong. We actually found out where Barney Fife found employment after the Mayberry gig ended. The aging security guard at the truck stop refused to let us stay there, citing motorhomes were not allowed. Despite Evan and Dave’s contention that what we had was a rig with a coach on it, Mr. Fife sent us on down the road.
Luckily for us, we passed a Holiday Inn Express on the way to the truck stop, so we decided to stop over there for the night since we couldn’t find a place to park. On the way to the hotel, hunger pangs set in, so at 1 AM we stopped at a 24-hour drive-thru McDonalds to grab something to eat. Knowing the coach, not motorhome, would take the roof off the McDonalds, we got out and walked up to the drive-thru and placed our order. Once we got up to the window, the trouble started. The girl working the line turned us into her manager who came over and told us they couldn’t serve us because we were a walk-up. Evan’s patience was at the breaking point and he said, “You know what, buddy, that’s my coach over there and if the only way I can get served is to drive through here, well - c’mon guys - we're going through the drive-thru.” Knowing the public relations disaster that that would cause, I jumped in and tried to reason with the parties involved.
I think the funniest thing was the guy behind us who offered to let us order sitting in his car. In the words of the infamous Larry the Cable Guy, “That’s funny…I don’t care who you are.” We got our Big Macs and headed to the hotel where, once again, we were accosted by hotel security. That poor ‘ole security guard will never know how close he came to being duck-taped to a telephone pole that night. The one thing that worked right is they had rooms that night and because it was so late, they cut us a deal of "only" $199 per room, per night. The rates on Super Bowl weekend were $399 per night in this industrial part of town. a
d v e r t i s e m e n t YOU'RE GONNA PUT WHAT, WHERE?
Imagine a small hospital parking lot with a gate that has lift arms and imagine a semi driving through there. That was our objective. We made it to the MGM with improved directions and were greeted by the parking lot attendant who said there’s no way this is going to work. Did we mention another boss responded and said we couldn’t stay there? Yep, but yet some more sweet talking and a nice save from Lisa put us back in the ballpark.
I’m convinced they only said yes to shut us up and because of their belief we couldn’t get in there. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes I would never have believed what Dave did with the rig. Not only did we park this baby, but we also did so in a location where if they changed their minds, we couldn’t leave. Well, we could have but it wouldn’t have been pretty. The three of us have never been accused of being gamblers but we certainly found out something Evan loves more than pretty women and sponsoring race cars – the Roulette table.
I stuck to my game of blackjack and my rule of thumb is that I never gamble for gain. If I win, it goes to charity or church. I had no donations after this slick dealer who greatly resembled the Spanish swordsman Zorro got through with me. It went like this. I had budgeted $100. At $20 a hand, I pulled a 17, he pulled an 18, I pulled a 21 and he pulled a 21, I pulled a 20 and he pulled a 21. In other words, I was out of there in no time with a “Z” on my forehead. While Evan went back to the coach for a nap, Dave and I headed down to the NFL Experience at Cobo Hall in search of souvenirs for friends and family. I was like a kid in a candy store. Dave looked at me in amazement for the awe I was bestowing on this place. I had to inform him that for me, drag racing is my job but the NFL is my hobby. We ended up walking seven blocks in a driving snowstorm with two arms full of collectibles including an autographed Mike Alstott football helmet and a poster-sized picture of the 1975 Pittsburgh Steelers Steel Curtain. Evan kept a smile going for a while after that. It was worth the five-mile walk in a driving snowstorm. Back to the casino and we stayed there until 5 AM. Did I mention that Evan really loved that Roulette wheel?
AH, THE BOWL
Evan is to the Pittsburgh Steelers what I am to the Tampa Bay Buccanneers. He is the ultimate fan and his house is adorned in his team’s livery and full of trinkets. We awoke groggy to our neighbors in the parking lot who were waving a Steelers flag in an attempt to get the attention of the helicopters flying above.
Dave was the first one up and after hours of intense snoring I followed suit. Evan was another story. He was for all intents and purposes in a sleeping coma. A bomb could have dropped in the coach and it wouldn’t have fazed him in the least. Dave’s assignment was to procure a limo ride to the game. He set out to for Casino and after a shower I joined him. Latrell was supposed to meet up with us. It was noon by this time and Evan was still sawing logs in the back of the coach. Dave and I decided to pass the time in the casino while Evan slept. For once Dave got whipped at the table and I emerged successful. That was one in a row for me. No casino worth its salt opens for business without a buffet and Dave and I decided to knock out that facet of the day. We just happened to make conversation with two guys cheering for the Seahawks who had procured tickets for the game. As the conversation progressed I revealed that drag racing was my job and the NFL was my hobby. As we found out, these two guys used to run an econo-dragster in the Seventies and their home track was Pacific Raceway in Seattle. By the time we got back to the coach, Evan was finally up and showering.
THE INSIDE SKINNY ON THE GAME
One of the things I cherish about my friendship with Evan Knoll is the positive spirit he conveys to his team members. He calls his moments of brainstorming “brain farts” but they are often instrumental in leading his associates in the right direction in situations. Our worst fears came to pass when Evan awoke with a pounding headache. No, these headaches were not from alcohol, but from the affects of his automobile crash in 2004. Just hours away, we were very concerned as to whether he’d feel up to making the game. “I wanted you guys to come because I wanted you to experience this,” Evan said. “This is a once in a lifetime experience and to see you enjoying yourselves is all the matters. It doesn’t matter if I go. It matters that you’ve had a good time.” You know what? Besides things going absolutely hay-wire, I had the time of my life.
“I feel at peace when I help others,” Evan added. “I just like to do it on my terms.” After a group prayer, Evan retreated back to the bedroom to go back to sleep. We were really bummed out. Here we had survived all of this other adversity and won and our team leader just didn’t feel up to snuff. Latrell arrived a little after Evan went to sleep and shared our disappointment. It was time to go to the game and Evan was still out. The three of us worked feverishly to get the game up on the satellite and if you’ve ever noticed had experience with DirecTV, when they are on they are on. But when things aren’t perfect, calling customer service is no fun task. Evan never did come out of bed and instructed us to go ahead and he’d make it by halftime. I didn’t want to go and wasn’t. But then Evan got angered at the thought of us staying back.
DRAG RACING COULD LEARN A LOT
When you have to park five blocks from the stadium at the cheap price of $80, it becomes very apparent how small drag racing is when compared to the NFL. Latrell and I took off to the game in his Cadillac Escalade and in my 38 years on this earth that is the first time I’ve ever rode in a Caddy. I think the two of us were blown away at the number of fans headed to the game. After going through security that rivaled the airport screening process, we began seeing the ex-football stars. But for Latrell, it wasn’t the impressive sight of Ford Field that grabbed his attention, but rather the brand new Escalade rewarded to the MVP that left him in awe. I ended up snapping a picture of Latrell in SUV heaven.
No sooner had we gotten in the door when Latrell turned on his celebrity radar and the first one we found was Chris Carter, the former Pro Bowl wide receiver for the Minnesota Vikings. Latrell talked him into posing for a picture. Latrell also shook the hand of another large NFL star and this was a big boy. Latrell went on to meet Isaiah Thomas, who is a famous NBA basketball icon and a hero of the Torco CFO. Did I mention that Latrell used to play basketball in Indiana under fiery coach Bobby Knight?
We stopped in to see the pre-game show being filmed and I couldn’t help but feel like one of the drag racing fans watching the NHRA Today show being filmed at the track. I snapped photos of hosts Chris Berman, Michael Irvin, Steve Young and Tom Jackson. I once again, being a fan of the NFL, found out just how fortunate I am to hold the status I do in drag racing.
Then it hit me once I walked into the dome. This is the marketing Promised Land. There were fans seated side-by-side and not an empty seat to be found. At a minimum of $600 (face value) per ticket, this was incredible. Just to think, I always thought the U.S. Nationals was huge. What was 3 hours seemed like only 15 minutes and my thoughts were centered on wishing Evan could see this and how blessed I was to have an association with such a kind and caring friend that loves to make dreams come true for others. Evan operates from the heart and this weekend may have been his best example. I was just glad the Steelers won for him. He deserved it. In the end, the trip home was rather boring but we all needed some downtime. After all, engines need cooling after they win the race and on this weekend, we all won.
Got a comment? Drop us a line at comppluseditor@aol.com.
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