HEY, WILLIE!
I attached a picture of the dirt track that was located in my hometown of Glen Aubrey, N.Y., located outside of Binghamton. My dad and his best friend, who were home builders, decided to build a track on some vacant land in the late-’50s.
They brought some equipment home and a week later had a quarter-mile track. Cars would line up a mile in each direction starting two hours before race time on Friday nights. A good share of local people worked at the track. My mom ran the popcorn area and dad ran the pits.
My dad would haul water from the creek all Friday afternoon to wet the track. I can remember riding in a dump truck to the salt mines in Ithaca to get salt to hold down the dirt.
In the mid-’60’s the X was added in the middle for one Figure-8 race each week.
DICK in PORT ORANGE
HEY, DICK!
I look at that picture and expect to see James Earl Jones and Shoeless Joe come walking out of the woods. Or something like that.
Anyway, regarding NASCAR’s weekend dirt-racin’ at Bristol, all I did was toss in the names of a few long-ago (and current) dirt tracks, and here came some emails, soliciting a shout-out to this and that little backwater bullring where weekend thunder once shook the local cows, if not the townies.
In our ongoing recommendations for additional twists on NASCAR’s same ol’-same ol’, a Figure-8 race has been tossed about, but that might be a better suggestion for ARCA, because the higher-ups with six- and seven-figure contracts aren’t gonna risk a broadside to the driver’s side door every lap.
And since we’re ditching conventional thinking, why not suggest a return to Daytona’s beach-and-road course. Here me out. I know, between the neighbors, surf-fishermen and turtle folks, it’ll never get the OK, but all you do is keep quiet about it until the green flag waves — it’s sometimes better to ask forgiveness than permission, you know.
More: KEN WILLIS: In the dirt at Bristol, NASCAR is planting a seed
HEY, WILLIE!
Let’s not forget Lakewood Park south of Atlanta, the grand-daddy of dirt tracks. During the ’40s and ’50s, Hudson Hornets ruled this mile-long oval.
GEORGE
HEY, GEORGE!
Decided to print this particular “what about my old dirt track?” email because of Lakewood’s place in NASCAR trivia. Lakewood is where young Richard Petty won his first-ever NASCAR race. Except he didn’t.
Just a few months after the inaugural Daytona 500, where Lee Petty finally won after three days of Big Bill France studying the photo finish (or milking it all for publicity — take your pick), Lee Petty again was initially ruled the runner-up at Lakewood. He protested, saying he knew he’d put two laps on his son during pit stops, and the officials eventually agreed.
Instead of Richard’s first win, it was his dad’s 42nd. Asked about filing a formal protest that would take a win away from his son, Lee famously said he would’ve done the same if it had been his mother, and everyone knew he wasn’t lying.
If not for Lee’s attention to detail and adherence to the tough-love school of child rearing, Richard Petty’s eventual 200th career win would’ve come in May 1984, at Dover instead of two months later at Daytona, in front of a sitting president. Sometimes fate is working on all eight cylinders.
HEY, WILLIE!
Dr. Bobby Brown had quite a life. I read that he told his future wife to tell her mother he was going to medical school, and to tell her dad that he played for the Yankees.
JIM
HEY, JIM!
Veteran of two wars (WWII and Korea), big-league third baseman and multiple World Series championships while going to med school, longtime cardiologist, president of the American League.
They don’t make bubblegum cards big enough to fit all of Bobby Brown’s accomplishments.
HEY, WILLIE!
Enjoyed your column on Gookie Dawkins and the other funny baseball names (March 27 News-Journal). But what about Dizzy and Daffy Dean?
BOB
HEY, BOB!
Gookie Dawkins is the newly named manager of the 2021 Daytona Tortugas. Birth name is Travis, which, generally speaking, isn’t the type of name you’d cloak in a Gookie (or Mookie for that matter).
More: KEN WILLIS: From Red to Ducky to Booter, and now Gookie, what’s in a name?
Maybe the best thing about Dizzy Dean was the confusion over his actual name. In some circles, he signed his official papers at Jay Hanna Dean, other times it was Jerome Herman Dean. Daffy was always Paul.
This brings us back to the “what about my old dirt track?” trend of the past week. Several years back, after writing about Boots Day or Puddin’ Head Jones or whomever, emails arrived suggesting a nod to every Sudden Sam, High Pockets and Cool Papa you could imagine. Which got me theorizing that all you have to do is toss out a few old ballplayer nicknames and you’d rouse the memory banks.
So in closing, to test the waters: Preacher, Stretch and Moose, just to jar the gray matter.
— Reach Ken Willis at ken.willis@news-jrnl.com