Calling me a NASCAR fan would be an insult to anyone that's ever hauled his camper to the parking lot of a speedway and chugged a 30 pack of Bud while waiting for the gentlemen to start their engines. At best, I'm a racing detester that's come around to begrudging admiration; a blue-state heathen who needed some contemplation before taking NASCAR off of his "not a sport" list, leaving golf all by its lonesome. I dig the competition, especially the way it's presented on television. As a hockey fan, I'm insanely jealous of the ways in which televised racing conveys the sport's velocity and danger, while at the same time providing detailed information - concise and understandable, even for the newbies - about every facet of the event. No other sport has utilized digital technology better than NASCAR, from the graphics that identify drivers around the track to the dozen audio feeds that enable fans to witness conversations between the cars and their crews. It's extraordinary stuff, to the point where a guy who hears "lap 100" and thinks "c'mon, already" actually is drawn into the action.

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Last December I wrote the following: "2004 should be remembered as a year when the hermetically sealed divide between sports and society frayed for the first time in a generation ... I cannot wait to see what 2005 has in store. Also in 2005, the Chicago White Sox will win the World Series - and it's splitsville for Nick and Jessica." [The last sentence was slightly updated for editorial reasons.]This past year that "hermetically sealed divide" has gone well beyond the fraying stage. The delicate division between sports and politics was ripped apart like it was trying to block Dwight Freeney. Discussing the "politics of sports" became in 2005 as popular as sports itself - for better and worse. The tone was set by that most apolitical of bodies, the US Congress. In March, when our baseball thoughts are accustomed to turning toward spring training, the House of Representatives engineered what Rep. Tom Lantos called "a theater of the absurd". Past and present MLB All Stars Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmiero, and Jose Canseco among others were called -- under threat of prison - to testify about performance enhancing drugs in the sport. The proceedings were shameful. All that was missing was William Rehnquist in his yellow striped robe to round out the farce. Not one trainer was subpoenaed. Nor were any owners - especially a certain former Texas Rangers owner named George W. Bush who ran the steroid crack-house where Canseco held court in the early 90s. As one former player said to me, "When it comes to steroids, distribution is a team issue but punishment is for individuals, which is why nothing changes."



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