It is getting to be that time.
In just a few short weeks the over-estimated and under-educated
voting populace that makes up this great country will be electing
or re-electing a president.
And, as it has done with the modern education system, language
and cable television, sports have once again taken over for most
attentions spans. This time, much the same as they did four years
ago, sports have come to epitomize and even characterize an entire
demographic of swing voters.
In 2000, it was the soccer moms. In 2004, it is the Nascar
Dads.
But just what is a Nascar Dad? Surely America’s third most
popular professional sport–just behind football and baseball but
far and away above the pampered NBA and the “locked out” NHL–is
not a species unto themselves. Or are they?
So to try and break down this election-season turmoil I am going
to lay out a few simple psychographic indicators and questions to
help you decide if you are truly a “Nascar Dad,” and thus, an elite
member of the country’s largest swing-voter class.
First, do you go to a sports bar on Sunday afternoons in October
and ask the bartender to change the channel from the Rams-Giants
game to the MBNA America 400? Do you even know what the “MBNA
America 400” is?
Have you ever taped a race? This is a fairly standard question.
Have you ever been at a family reunion, eating greasy chicken,
talking about carburetors and steering clear of all radios and
televisions for fear that you might accidentally catch a glimpse or
the outcome of a THREE-HOUR race you are taping to watch later that
night?
Have you ever used the term “because they are three-wide on turn
four” as an excuse why you can’t come to dinner? Being three-wide
on turn four on the final lap is the Nascar equivalent of being in
the bottom of the ninth, with bases loaded and two outs, or fourth
and goal from the 1 with 10 seconds remaining. The home-cookin’ can
wait.
Here is a big one: How brand loyal are you?
Say you are a die-hard Dale Earnhardt Jr. fan (pre-Gap jeans
commercials). Knowing the Junior drives the No. 8 Budweiser car,
would you ever drink Miller?
Or here is a better example: You are a Sterling Marlin fan and
he drives the No. 40 Coors Light car, but you are in St. Louis,
where they don’t even sell Coors Light, let alone serve it.
Do you a) tough it up and drink the Bud, b) switch to hard stuff
or c) order a Budweiser and just let it sit on the table in front
of you, all night long, while you have a sly grin on your face,
like you just stuck it to the man?
If you answered a, you probably watch Oprah, too, and if you
answered b you aren’t as hard core as you thought. The correct
answer is c.
A better example of this would be myself. I used to hate
Nascar–despised it, even.
But over the summer all that changed as I had a chance to go see
a race in Pocono (Nascar fans don’t actually say what state the
races are in when they refer to them; they just assume that you
know). It was there that I watched the most arrogant, bull-headed,
stubborn driver east of 40 highway: Tony Stewart. I liked him from
the start.
Now, before I became a Nascar fan I’d never given much thought
as to where I went for hardware supplies. If it was close and
cheap, chances are it was OK with me, but not anymore.
You see, Tony Stewart is sponsored by Home Depot. So I, in turn,
will never again be seen at a Loews, an Ace Hardware or even a
mom-and-pop shop in Hickory, Ind. No sir, if they aren’t wearing
the orange apron, I’d just as soon let whatever needs fixin’ fall
apart.
There are just a few other questions a true Nascar fan must be
able to answer in the affirmative.
Do you still refer to the “Nextel Cup” as “the Winston”? Do you
consider Nascar to be a team sport? Do you know a handful of crew
chiefs names and previous occupations