Free The Champion (Racing on the Edge) by Shey Stahl Page B

haulers in the paddock were lined up by the
previous season’s points. This meant I was now first in line instead of last
like I was last year. Made for less walking that’s for sure.
    I had some time to kill after my interview with ESPN
before the race started so I sent Sway a text message, which she didn’t return.
It just made me miss her even more because I imagined she was incredibly busy
with Axel and it made me want to be there for them.
    Speedweek flew by just the same as it did last year. The
Budweiser shootout seemed to blur right into the Duel 125’s with all the
sponsorship commitments I had along with the unending amount of press. I was
never alone these past few weeks and if I was, I was sleeping, alone.
    Sway couldn’t bring Axel to the race so she stayed home,
which was incredibly frustrating but I knew I needed to get used to it.
    I think I’ve said this before but each season, rules
changed, drivers changed, owners changed and sponsors changed. The beginning of
the season was a time for change.
    Even the name of the series had changed sponsorship.
    Since 1972, the cup series had always been referred to as
Winston Cup. Now it was being called the Nextel Cup series.
    The new season brought with it new rookies needing to
prove themselves. I went easy on them because not only was I in their shoes
last year, but I was trying to be the better man this season and not be such a
hothead.
    That newfound optimism ended when I had a run-in with
Gibson Racing’s new driver, Colin Shuman.
    His first remark to me when we met at the drivers meeting
was, “So you’re the chump that couldn’t stand up against Darrin?”
    “Don’t pay him any mind.” Bobby Cole, my teammate with
Riley Racing, told me.
    Not only was I appalled by the irreverence of Colin
Shuman, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach at the mention of
Darrin’s name, and reacted as such.
    “Shut the fuck up.” I told him as I took a few steps in
his direction. Bobby and Tate had to grab me by the arms. “You have no idea
what happened so I suggest you keep your goddamn mouth shut.”
    Kyle was by my side in an instance along with Mason,
Aiden and Spencer.
    Immediately, I was thinking that this season would be a
repeat of the shit I went through last season with Darrin but it wouldn’t be ... I refused to let it be.
    The reporters were relentless with the questions about
Darrin, and how I’d dealt with it over the off-season. The questions also
swirled around my personal life and marriage with Sway, all of which I answered
with the same answer.
    “It’s great.”
    As far as I was concerned, that was all they needed to
know.
     
     
    Before long, I found myself inside the car waiting for
the green flag.
    “Let’s have a good day out here bud. We are the defending
champions. Let’s show them what we’re made of and start this season off right.”
Kyle, my crew chief, said as I finished adjusting my belts.
    “10-4,”
    “Pull your belts tight. It’s a long race. We’ve got five
hundred miles so take your time.”
    Envisioning the race in my head as I always did, my
thoughts drifted to Sway and the baby. I wondered what they were doing right
about now and frustrated that I wasn’t able to hear her voice this morning.
    Last season during my rookie year, I had something to
prove to everyone coming into the Daytona 500. Though that hadn’t changed, it
was a different kind of establishment. It was showing everyone I was a
champion.
    I wasn’t optimistic and I certainly wasn’t hopeful as you
can’t be in racing. Instead, I was sure.
    When you think about it, as a race car driver—your
education never ends. Other drivers would school you any chance they got so you
always had to be on your game. Every race, every track, every turn was a test
of endurance, skill and disposition, a chance for you to demonstrate how much
you knew and how much you have left to learn.
    On tracks like Daytona and Talladega, you would run
wide-open,