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It must be pointed out that the first five races of the Sprint Cup season have little to do with the next one.

Low downforce. High downforce. Get off your high horse. It doesn't matter.

As the German intelligence officer, played by Siegfriend Rauch, said of General George Smith Patton, played by George C. Scott, Martinsville Speedway is "a glorious anachronism."

So much do I revere Martinsville -- which is flat, shaped like a paper clip, and produces racing that is often a cross between a chariot race, a roller derby and riding the bumper cars at the fair -- that I wrote a song about it. I haven't written any songs about other tracks. 

It's the only NASCAR track Romans would appreciate. All Romans. Caesar. Roman Gabriel. Charles Comiskey, the Noble Roman. Martinsville, nestled in the lovely hills of southern Virginia, is one of the farflung outposts of the Roman Empire. Clay Campbell is its unassuming consul.

The racing can be as messy as the hot dogs sold reasonably at its concession stands. It's rare for anyone to get hurt. The cars aren't going fast enough. Ninety-eight miles an hour is the equivalent of the land-speed record at .526-mile Martinsville. It's as fast as a purpose-built stock car can go around the track at this point in human history and mechanical progress.

The adjective that best describes Martinsville is "rousing." It is a rousing spectacle. As measured by cars pulling into victory lane that have been beaten and battered, Martinsville is rivaled only by Darlington, which is a ride at the fair in and of itself.

I don't go to the tracks anymore. I watch on TV. Of all the tracks in NASCAR, it is the one where being there makes the greatest difference. I've been there 40 times for Cup races. I have sufficient experience to handle it from the living room. That doesn't make it work. That doesn't prevent me from longing for it in person while I'm watching at home.

My guess is that more standing ovations have been given at Martinsville than any other track. When I think of the track, I envision the fans in the turns, rising in applause as a driver below extricates himself from his smoking race car.

I like everything about it. I like the people. I like the racing. I like the town. I like the hot dogs.

What else is there?