Of all sports, motor racing is evidently the most dangerous, as we know too clearly from the accident that took the life of Dale Earnhardt at Daytona, a race that the 49-year-old was aggressively—as always—working when his No. 3 Monte Carlo met a wall. Although I never met the man, I respected his skills and abilities, and certainly extend my condolences to his family, friends and fans.
During the post-race broadcast interview—before Earnhardt's fate was revealed—race winner and Earnhardt team mate Michael Waltrip talked about his love of racing and how it is something that he has always wanted to continue to do despite all setbacks. That particular race was Waltrip's 463rd start. It was his first victory. During his 16 seasons, his previous best finish (which happened twice) was 12th.
The point I want to make is this: Dale Earnhardt—whose son finished the Daytona 500 in second place; it had seemed likely that his father would have finished just behind him—was a seven-time NASCAR champion. He'd won more than $41-million during his career. He was a successful businessman. Arguably, he had nothing to prove to anybody. He could have retired from his seat without anyone thinking any less of the Intimidator. Michael Waltrip is a man who was able to face years of being thwarted (think about it: if NASCAR races were held 52 weeks a year, 463 weeks means nearly nine years), yet he preserved.
Both men were pursing their craft on the afternoon of February 18. Both men were doing their jobs. Both men were committed to achieving excellence.
Few of us come into our jobs and face the same kind of danger. We sit at our desks and figure out how to get through the next meetings, phone calls, e-mails, and paperwork with the least amount of friction. We come in each morning looking forward to getting out in the afternoon. We bitch and moan about management. We perform at a minimum daily requirement rate.
Any maybe sometimes we sit back while watching a televised NASCAR race and wonder why we aren't doing something exciting like those guys who are working it around the track at Daytona.
The answer to that is simple: Those people work their craft, their career. They're not simply going through the motions, not just getting by. They may be going around in circles, but they are getting somewhere. And they are putting it all on the line-literally.
Dale Earnhardt wasn't the Intimidator because he took his job lightly. Michael Waltrip wouldn't have seen his first checkered flag at the Daytona 500 if he'd chucked it long ago because of the frustration of finishing no better than 12th.
There's something to be learned here.
