The Flagman
God. Well, god with a small g, but god none the less. That’s what the flagman is on the racetrack, or at least what they should be. Of course, this is the 21st century, so that could easily be the Flag Person, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that somebody has to be in charge on the race track, and that’s the flagman.
I believe I’ve already written a piece on the man I consider to be one of the best, if not THE best, flagman ever; Ted Winot. Ted was an artist, a showman. He was also aware of every single thing that happened on HIS racetrack, and was very fair. And those are the most important things for a flagman to be.
The modern-day flagman doesn’t ever really get to be a showman. They’re stuck in a flagstand mounted up on high. About all they can do now is wave the flags. Not like the old days in which Ted and his ilk could come down onto the track and mingle with the cars and drivers. Leaping about, running around with the green flag in their hands, shaking the black flag in some driver’s window and giving them what for. No, we’re . . . well, fortunately, a lot more safety conscious now. Flagmen used to get hurt. Chub Walker used to stand in the middle of the track at the start and let the cars go around him.
The flagman’s REAL job is not just to stop and start the race. It is also to pass judgement on the events taking place thereupon. The Checkers (or Scorers) keep an eye on who is first, second, and so forth. The flagman’s job is to enforce the rules of the road. To make sure that traffic can flow freely, and if it can’t to stop it and see to the removal of any obstacles. Then, they are to ejucidate who is at fault for the stoppage and deal with them appropriately.
Traditionally, whoever causes the caution flag to be waved goes to the rear of the field for the restart. Sometimes this is a complicated decision. One car may have spun out and stalled in the middle of the track, causing a safety hazard that brings out the yellow flag. But that person may have spun out because of the actions of another. It is up to the flagman to determine who was at fault, and if he feels that the spun car was wronged he could even get back his original position on the track while the person who hooked them goes back.
This is not always an easy decision to make. A good flagman has plenty of help around to help him make it, and in this day of portable radios that has gotten a little easier to do. You will note that there are usually a number of people on the infield or at the pit entrance carrying walkie-talkies with them. They act as assistants to the flagman, because nobody – not even Ted Winot – could see all the way around a racetrack all the time.
One thing that makes the flagman’s job difficult is the fact that he’s doing it in front of the entire crowd. And don’t forget that most of that crowd has their own opinion on what happened, especially if they have an interest in any car involved. Let’s be honest, fans; your favorite driver can do any damned thing they want and it’s justified. Consequently, the more honest a flagman is, the more fans hate them.
Think about this for a moment. I know I’m in dangerous waters here, but bear with me. Do you remember a NASCAR star whose nickname was “The Intimidator?” How do you get a nickname like that, anyway? I’ll tell you how; by using your bumper to advance your position on the racetrack. That’s been one of my long-standing complaints about NASCAR. They look the other way for drivers like Dale Earnhardt, Cale Yarborough, and Bobby Allison because they’re popular.
There is a variety of opinions on such drivers. I believe their aggressive tactics are unfair, others feel it gives a race color. Where opinions vary the widest is among the drivers. If you use those tactics, you think they’re great. On the other hand, if you’re the poor schmuck who has to repair their car every week while a less talented, but more aggressive, driver goes by after spinning you, you’re probably not so enamored of the style.
In major-league racing, with multi-million dollar budgets supplied by multi-national corporations, this is an intellectual discussion. On the local level, when your spouse is wondering if that replacement front clip is really more important than your kids getting to go to camp, it’s a very real issue. When the family’s butter-and-egg money is on the line and you’ve already spent a lot more than you can ever win back, is bumping and grinding your way to the front fair?
That’s the question the flagman has to consider. He has to think more about what’s fair, about what’s right, than about what the fans or drivers are going to think of him. One of the great flagmen I ever saw was Wayne Weeks, former owner of the Nor-Way Pines Speedway, now known as Big Daddy’s Speedbowl. Wayne wasn’t the showman that Ted Winot was, but outside of that was every bit as good a flagman. And as track owner, he didn’t have to worry about being overruled, which in my opinion happens all too often.
The funny think about Wayne is how people’s opinion of him has changed over the years. When he was at the job, a lot of people really hated him. Most of those same people now miss him sorely, because he tried his best to be uncompromisingly fair. Maybe he had his biases, but they were based on his own observations. He wasn’t above nailing somebody because of all the times they got away with bad stuff.
Nowadays, in the Major Leagues, the Chief Starter has all kinds of help. More people, and technology, than was available in Ted Winot or Wayne Weeks’ day, or even now to our own Chief Starters. But the same reality comes down at the end of the day; there’s a decision to be made, and it’s up to that person in the flagstand to make it. When will the race start? When will it stop? Why did it stop? What will be done about it? Others may get to decide who wins and loses, but it starts and stops at the whim of one person. The Flagman.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Checkers
Checkers
Not the game involving little red and black disks on a board divided up into squares. And also not the flag that gets waved at the end of a race. No, the checkers I’m referring to are the ones who sit up in the judge’s stand and keep track of who’s leading the race.
I’m going to try and write a series of pieces that give some insight into how a racetrack runs, and maybe even the differences between how it ran fifty years ago and today. It’s surprising how some things have changed, and how some have not.
Accurate scoring is essential to a good race. Nobody really thinks about it, but you need to know who wins, who comes in second, seventh, last. It helps you accurately distribute points and prize money, for one thing. And the whole point of the race is to find out who’s faster.
The actual task of scoring a race isn’t exactly difficult. It isn’t exactly easy, either, but the preferred system is relatively easy to grasp. You need a piece of paper and, preferably, a pencil. You’re best off if you place the paper the long way on the writing surface in front of you, and draw vertical lines down the face. Try and divide your paper into ten segments, and it helps to number them.
Focus your attention on the start/finish line and rest your hand on the page, pencil ready to write in the first column. When a car passes the line, write down the number and move your hand down slightly. Write the next one, and the next one, and so forth. When the first car comes back around, move your hand one column to the right and repeat the procedure.
And that’s about it.
The advantage of this system is, it gets every car, every lap. That way, if you’re wondering if someone is down a lap, you simply look through all the laps for their number. Any lap the number is missing, they weren’t there. It even makes it easy to see how many multiple laps the backmarkers are. Preferably, you should have at least two checkers, and it’s even better to have three. That way, if there’s a disagreement at any point, best two out of three wins.
The reason they’re called checkers is simple; they check where the cars are, and then check with each other to make sure they got it right. Nowadays they’re usually called Scorers, but back in my day they were Checkers.
The first Checkers I ever saw were my mom, Marjorie, and grandmother, Pearl Clogston. They developed the system described above, and it’s logical that they weren’t the first. I learned it at a very young age and have taught it to many people since. Anyone can do it, and if you don’t believe me grab a yellow legal pad and a pencil next time you leave for the races. You can do it, too.
One important task for the Checkers is to get the lineup to the flagman any time there’s a caution period requiring a restart. Most small tracks go back to the last completed lap and line up in that order, excepting whoever it was that caused the caution. That person, or those people, go to the rear. One thing the Checkers are NOT responsible for is figuring out who was at fault. That’s the job of the flagman and their helpers. But more on that another day. The Checkers should have their eyes on the start/finish line, and nowhere else. Don’t ask them what happened in turn one, because they’re supposed to be busy checking the running order at the flag stand.
This is one job that has not gone through a lot of changes over the years. At the big tracks like Daytona and Indianapolis, and NHMS, there are electronic scoring systems that put strips in the track under the asphalt and transponders in the cars. You can tell who is in what position at any point on the track. If you don’t have a million dollars to invest in such a system, the old way works just fine.
The more cars, and the faster the cars, the harder the job. For most races the Checkers have plenty of down time between laps. They actually get to see some of the race. If you want to see what their worst-case scenario is, try checking a Mini-Sprint feature with twenty or more cars. If you can keep up with that, you’re good.
The really cool part about checking is, anyone can do it. So here’s a challenge. Bring a pad of paper and a pencil, and try your hand. You’ll be surprised how easy it is, and how much concentration it requires. And it might even give you a little respect for the people that do it every race.
Not the game involving little red and black disks on a board divided up into squares. And also not the flag that gets waved at the end of a race. No, the checkers I’m referring to are the ones who sit up in the judge’s stand and keep track of who’s leading the race.
I’m going to try and write a series of pieces that give some insight into how a racetrack runs, and maybe even the differences between how it ran fifty years ago and today. It’s surprising how some things have changed, and how some have not.
Accurate scoring is essential to a good race. Nobody really thinks about it, but you need to know who wins, who comes in second, seventh, last. It helps you accurately distribute points and prize money, for one thing. And the whole point of the race is to find out who’s faster.
The actual task of scoring a race isn’t exactly difficult. It isn’t exactly easy, either, but the preferred system is relatively easy to grasp. You need a piece of paper and, preferably, a pencil. You’re best off if you place the paper the long way on the writing surface in front of you, and draw vertical lines down the face. Try and divide your paper into ten segments, and it helps to number them.
Focus your attention on the start/finish line and rest your hand on the page, pencil ready to write in the first column. When a car passes the line, write down the number and move your hand down slightly. Write the next one, and the next one, and so forth. When the first car comes back around, move your hand one column to the right and repeat the procedure.
And that’s about it.
The advantage of this system is, it gets every car, every lap. That way, if you’re wondering if someone is down a lap, you simply look through all the laps for their number. Any lap the number is missing, they weren’t there. It even makes it easy to see how many multiple laps the backmarkers are. Preferably, you should have at least two checkers, and it’s even better to have three. That way, if there’s a disagreement at any point, best two out of three wins.
The reason they’re called checkers is simple; they check where the cars are, and then check with each other to make sure they got it right. Nowadays they’re usually called Scorers, but back in my day they were Checkers.
The first Checkers I ever saw were my mom, Marjorie, and grandmother, Pearl Clogston. They developed the system described above, and it’s logical that they weren’t the first. I learned it at a very young age and have taught it to many people since. Anyone can do it, and if you don’t believe me grab a yellow legal pad and a pencil next time you leave for the races. You can do it, too.
One important task for the Checkers is to get the lineup to the flagman any time there’s a caution period requiring a restart. Most small tracks go back to the last completed lap and line up in that order, excepting whoever it was that caused the caution. That person, or those people, go to the rear. One thing the Checkers are NOT responsible for is figuring out who was at fault. That’s the job of the flagman and their helpers. But more on that another day. The Checkers should have their eyes on the start/finish line, and nowhere else. Don’t ask them what happened in turn one, because they’re supposed to be busy checking the running order at the flag stand.
This is one job that has not gone through a lot of changes over the years. At the big tracks like Daytona and Indianapolis, and NHMS, there are electronic scoring systems that put strips in the track under the asphalt and transponders in the cars. You can tell who is in what position at any point on the track. If you don’t have a million dollars to invest in such a system, the old way works just fine.
The more cars, and the faster the cars, the harder the job. For most races the Checkers have plenty of down time between laps. They actually get to see some of the race. If you want to see what their worst-case scenario is, try checking a Mini-Sprint feature with twenty or more cars. If you can keep up with that, you’re good.
The really cool part about checking is, anyone can do it. So here’s a challenge. Bring a pad of paper and a pencil, and try your hand. You’ll be surprised how easy it is, and how much concentration it requires. And it might even give you a little respect for the people that do it every race.
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