EARNHARDT'S POPULARITY NOT WANING
By Mark Emmons
Mercury News
Mercury News Archives
Lynyrd Skynyrd's Southern rock anthem ``Free Bird'' blares over the loudspeakers as shoppers browse through the NASCAR bazaar that has set up shop at Infineon Raceway.
In the days before Sunday's race, merchandise trailers are selling T-shirts, hats and every conceivable knickknack bearing the likeness, colors and numbers of stock-car racing's biggest drivers. But the crowd around one rig is larger than the rest. The words on the black trailer read: ``The Legacy Lives On . . . ''
Always larger than life, Dale Earnhardt Sr. has become even bigger in death.
``People sometimes still get very, very emotional,'' said the saleswoman behind the counter, who doesn't want to give her name. ``They still can't believe he's gone.''
Twenty-eight months after he was killed at the 2001 Daytona 500, Earnhardt remains one of NASCAR's most popular figures. It goes beyond appreciation for the way the legendary driver helped transform NASCAR into a mainstream sport -- one that probably will draw more than 100,000 spectators to the Dodge/Save Mart 350 on Sunday.
For many of NASCAR's loyal fans, The Intimidator's absence still feels like a death in the family.
``When he passed away, I cried for a day and even my wife didn't understand that besides my dad, he had the most influence on my life,'' said Gary Narasaki, 39, of Martinez, who, as a third-generation Japanese-American, initially identified with the No. 3 on the side of Earnhardt's black Chevy Monte Carlo. ``I know that sounds weird coming from a native Californian who is talking about a guy from North Carolina that he never even met.''
Clearly, others share that passion.
Earnhardt merchandise sales remain in the Top 5 on the NASCAR series. Even on Northern California freeways, it's common to see No. 3 decals on windshields. At the mall you can find a new signature line of Dale Earnhardt leather jackets. Next week the Dale Earnhardt Tribute Concert in Daytona Beach, Fla., will feature acts such as Brooks & Dunn and Sheryl Crow.
``Some people looked at him like he was Elvis Presley,'' said Kevin Harvick, the Bakersfield native who took over Earnhardt's car. ``They followed him religiously for years and years.''
If the comparisons between Earnhardt and Elvis seem a stretch, just remember that those wacky supermarket tabloids have printed stories about ``sightings'' of the famous driver's ghost.
A `normal' superstar
Explaining Earnhardt's enduring appeal isn't easy. Fans say either you get it or you don't. But Jim Hunter, NASCAR's vice president of communications, who has been around the sport for 30 years, has a theory.
``The drivers are normal people,'' Hunter said. ``They aren't pampered, and Earnhardt was the epitome of the non-pampered superstar. He still liked to drive heavy equipment like bulldozers. He liked to bale hay.''
Love him or hate him -- and there were those who were turned off by his aggressive driving style -- there was no denying that Earnhardt made a connection. Perhaps people sensed that, deep down, he was just one of them.
A ninth-grade dropout, Earnhardt got plenty of grease under his fingernails working as a mechanic in the early '70s to finance his weekend race habit. He burned through two marriages because he spent more time racing than with his family before establishing himself as the baddest good ol' boy.
Earnhardt, with his roguish grin, would eventually earn the nickname The Intimidator for his tradin'-paint style of driving. He won seven Winston Cup titles and 76 races over 27 years.
``He was `The Man in Black,' '' driver Jeff Gordon said. ``I knew that didn't make him a bad guy because off the track he wasn't. But on the track he played that evil guy with the black car and using his bumpers. When you're the total package like Dale was, you're going to have lots of admirers.''
Then, on Feb. 18, 2001, he hit the wall at Daytona International Speedway, at more than 180 mph, just short of the finish line. He was 49.
``I've been around long enough to remember great drivers like Fireball Roberts and I know how good David Pearson and Richard Petty were,'' Hunter said. ``But I think it surprised everyone in the industry to see the outpouring of emotion. You'd see these all-night vigils in places like Montana or Colorado.''
That visceral outpouring of grief only confirmed what NASCAR officials had been saying for years -- their sport had become a national force, expanding beyond the Mason-Dixon Line. In a macabre way, his death raised NASCAR's profile further.
NASCAR is in the process of shedding its Southern roots. It just added a second Southern California race and replaced politically incorrect R.J. Reynolds Tobacco with cell phone giant Nextel as the series' title sponsor.
Earnhardt's crossover appeal helped pave the way for those sort of changes.
``He's pretty much responsible for getting our sport where it is today,'' Harvick said. ``He's the reason why most people watch us.''
Annual tribute
Dale Earnhardt Inc., now run by his widow, Teresa, has opened up its Mooresville, N.C., home office each year on the anniversary of his birthday. On April 29, about 13,000 people made the pilgrimage to the place nicknamed the Garage Mahal. Five states also declared that date ``Dale Earnhardt Day.''
Many of his fans have adopted Dale Earnhardt Jr. as their favorite driver, which explains why he sells more merchandise than anyone else. The rise of the son also has added a dynastic quality to the Earnhardt saga -- something that marketing-savvy NASCAR tries to encourage.
Others prefer to stick with Dale Sr.
Friday, fans were getting their pictures taken next to a giant No. 3 plaque at a section of Infineon known as Earnhardt Terrace.
Back at the merchandise trailer, Gene Williams, 64, of Corte Madera, said he and his wife sobbed for two days after Earnhardt died.
``I didn't know if I wanted to follow NASCAR anymore,'' Williams said.
But he was at the track Friday, wearing a No. 3 hat and buying an Earnhardt T-shirt. He carried a book he bought on QVC that bears Earnhardt's autograph. It's part of his Earnhardt memorabilia collection that Williams estimates is worth $5,000.
``I'll probably leave that stuff for my grandsons,'' Williams added. ``It will be their inheritance.''