"OL' D. W. RISES AGAIN
IN 1998 BRICKYARD 400"

Published, in edited form, in the Johnson County (Ind.) Daily Journal, Aug. 2, 1998 ©

         "Ol' D. W." needs no physical assistance to get him out through the side window of his peach-and-white stock car after Saturday's Brickyard 400, thank you very much.

         And he doesn't need a few jolts with those defibrillating paddles they use all the time on "E. R." to bring people -- and careers -- back to life, either, thank you.

         Darrell Waltrip has just finished 13th in the Brickyard 400, which is all it takes to resuscitate the three-time Winston Cup champion's inner child and requisite playfulness.

         "I'll take it!" he shouts, his hyperactive glee displacing some of the sweat on his oblong face as he gets his feet back on the ground. "I like it! I think the Powerball number was 13 this week, wasn't it?"

         Waltrip, 51 and almost on the brink of becoming the next old soldier to fade away before the fifth running of the 400 at Indy, don't need no stinkin' lottery ticket to feel like a million.

         Relegated to a past-champion's provisional spot at the back of the Brickyard field -- NASCAR's equivalent of a senior citizens' discount -- Waltrip feels more like a kid than a nominee for the over-the-hill gang.

         Well, almost. "No, sir, I don't feel like a kid again," he says. "I feel like a champion again."

         Most NASCAR stars won't get that excited about a 13th-place finish, but then Waltrip isn't most NASCAR stars. He has always been one of the most animated and uninhibited drivers in the NASCAR gallery -- and the one whose long career could have flat-lined in a heartbeat this week.

         After substituting for the injured Steve Park in the entry owned by Dale Earnhardt at the 13 Winston Cup races immediately before the Brickyard, the Franklin, Tenn., resident nearly had no more paddles to revive his career with until making a last-minute deal with car owner Tim Beverley.

         The bargain with Beverley, the Texas jet plane salesman that Waltrip sold his own team to in March, was struck so late last week that the team didn't even have time to put out a press kit.

         Or a decent qualifying speed. Waltrip's speeds Thursday and Friday were so far off the pace that he had to settle for the meager provisional set aside, like a bed in a nursing home, for any former series champ who can't cut the mustard anymore.

         So 13th is good, even sweet, for the pumped-up veteran driver as he stands beside his No. 35 Team Tabasco Chevrolet after Saturday's race. He has just burned his way through the Brickyard field like undiluted hot sauce through a weak stomach lining.

         "You can't start no further back than we did," he says, the enthusiasm still spicing up his words. "Let's see, 43rd to 13th, that's 30 cars we passed. It was awesome."

         And even a little shocking for the tall and dark-haired NASCAR landmark. "Am I surprised?" he asks, rhetorically, chuckling a bit on the side. "I'm thrilled!

         "We were thinking, if we just came here and had a top 25, we'd be very, very happy, for the first weekend out. So you can imagine how we feel right now; we feel like we just climbed a big mountain."

         And Waltrip has climbed it like a man half his age. "We just wanted to have a good day, you know?" he says, between swigs from a small bottle of green Gatorade. "It didn't have to be a great day.

         "We just didn't want it to look like I was backing up. All I've heard is, 'Oh, you're going back to your old car, back where you were.' I just didn't want that to happen."

         Saturday afternoon, it didn't, thank you so very much. "The car was as good as anything I've driven this year," Waltrip reports. "I was as quick as about the top two or three cars at times.

         "I just had a great, great day. It was fun."

         The fun hasn't ended with the checkered flag, either. Back in the garage-area parking lot, Ol' D. W. hugs crewmen, Beverley, fans, strangers, anybody he can find. And he makes sure everyone knows that his contract with Team Tabasco runs through the year 2000.

         "It's definitely gonna get even better," bubbles the irrepressible Waltrip, like a thankful man who has just learned that the plug isn't going to be pulled on his racing life-support system anytime soon.

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 Copyright 1998 by Jerry Miller ©

 Color photo courtesy of NASCAR

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