Ordinarily, around 3:00 PM, I would have been watching Judge Judy eat liars for lunch. NASCAR at Talladega was something I probably would have skipped in favor of something else. The whole thing is definitely exciting, but frightening at the same time. Watching crazy people driving 195MPH for 500 miles, bumper to bumper, gives me the same feels as a horror movie. Why bother if your eyes are halfway closed throughout the whole thing? Sure, I knew legendary names like Andretti, Petty, Earnhardt, Gordon, and Foyt, so there’s some interest lingering, but the name Watson stirred up that old unrelated, fictive kinship. It was the same kinship that athletes like Wilma Rudolph, Arthur Ashe, the Williams sisters, Gabby Douglas, Misty Copeland, and Tiger Woods inspired. How can you not root for the underrepresented, let alone the only?
The banning of confederate flags in the sport was a major step. The show of solidarity and support in the face of an attempt to terrorize Bubba Watson, and pour yet more racial salt in the wounds of African Americans who dare to sit and excel at integrated tables, was admirable. I hope it’s genuine.
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