Many years ago, I met an NHRA Stock Eliminator racer, Chuck Norton, who was also a high school principal. He was a great guy who helped me back when I was involved in a short stint racing in NHRA Stock Eliminator. My mother was a grade school teacher, so I have always been respectful of teachers — less so with assistant principals. But, with my teachers, I was always polite. Many I admired for the effort they put into helping me learn, even when it was obvious I was putting in a minimal effort.
Chuck told me a story about his football coach, who was successful but didn’t teach a class, so they put him in charge of the library during school hours. Chuck said he often would get heat from the other teachers who thought the coach had too good of a gig. He didn’t have to do lesson plans, grade papers, or tests. The other teachers were highly critical and often sniveled.
One day during a meeting when this came up, the principal decided he had enough of all this complaining. In a short speech, he asked how many of his math, language, or social studies teachers would be willing to spend long hours outside the classroom working with their kids to improve their skills and then on Friday nights, pitch their kids against a neighboring school in a heads-up contest.
I’m paraphrasing his presentation, but it went something like this. “By the way,” he told the teachers, “When you win, it will be because your kids performed well. But when you lose, that will be because you didn’t do your job. That coach is putting himself on the line every Friday night. He knows he might lose and the Monday morning quarterbacks will be all over him. So, if any of you are willing to put that kind of effort into making your kids better, I’ll see what I can do to lighten the load. I need a show of hands right now!”
Not a single teacher raised his hand. The bitching and complaining stopped.
This might not seem like it has anything to do with Big Red, our cover car for this issue. But, I think it has everything to do with that big bad Camaro. Nobody is paying the Gottliebs to run this Camaro. They are putting it out there for the world to judge; every time the engine lights and the clutch comes out, everybody is watching. Sure, the Camaro is fast, and it’s loud, and it wins. Not always, though. But, they always come back and try to go farther, faster, and always with class.
I was at the 341 Challenge in Virginia City, Nevada, a few years ago where Big Red was set to take on the mountain. I shuddered to think about pitting a big-block monster like Big Red up against this very unforgiving course. After a few moments of contemplation, I realized defying this precipice was just part of it. Perhaps an even greater burden was the rather lofty expectations that follow Big Red anywhere RJ decides to go.
Every time he climbs into that cockpit, the performance world expects nothing less than exemplary results. Think about that. It’s just like when the football coach who takes the field with his team. They’re hanging it out while the rest of the world sits on the sidelines and offers comments. It’s the nature of the world we live in.
By the very makeup of this column, I guess I have offered my backstage comments as well — unsolicited though they may be. I say I’d much rather be a participant than a spectator, but at the same time, I know I’m not qualified to sit behind the wheel of a brute like Big Red. I’ll leave that to RJ and his team of gladiators. I’m glad they’re out there. The world is a much more fun place when Big Red lights the fire.