Driven to stardom

ORLANDO, Fla. — Who is sexier, Carl Edwards or Dale Earnhardt Jr.?

Before Edwards had won a Nextel Cup race, a network TV promotional poll was asking fans that question. That sudden juxtaposition of his name with that of NASCAR’s most towering rock star tells you something about the velocity of the rocket Edwards is riding.

Now he has won at the highest level of NASCAR.

That, plus his looks, his fearlessness and a personality that would be golly-gee if it weren’t so polished by the University of Missouri, have created an electromagnet of attention to what is unique about him.

The safest part of an Edwards win is the racing itself, what with the HANS and soft walls.

It’s immediately afterward that he risks career-ending injury.

Edwards celebrates wins by doing acrobatic back-flips off his car, after removing his helmet. Instead of landing on padded flooring as gymnasts do, Edwards lands on pavement.

This practice was little-known until last weekend, when Edwards, 25, swept the Busch and Nextel Cup races at Atlanta Motor Speedway, his first wins in both series.

On the first attempt, he nailed his landing: “Even the Russian judge would give him a 10 on that one,” a radio announcer cracked.

The second attempt was a bit wobbly — enough to remind you that a misstep could break a leg. Worst-case scenario, he could fracture his skull, or break his back or neck.

Pardon my spoiling of sport. I’m as fascinated by Edwards’ acrobatics as anyone, and certainly understand his exuberance. But I can’t help remembering the Georgia Tech cheerleader, trained in gymnastics, lying on the sidelines at a football game some years ago, a sudden but permanent quadriplegic—to name just one instance. And he landed on artificial turf, not asphalt.

The risk of Edwards’ revolutionary postrace celebration is not lost on team owner Jack Roush. Back in the truck series in 2003, after Roush had signed Edwards with plans to promote him to Cup, Roush winced at the stunt that was endearing Edwards to fans.

“The first time I saw him do it, I cautioned him,” Roush said. “I said, ‘We’re going to be doing this (winning) a long time, and if you keep doing that and relying on luck, it’s not gonna work.’

“He said, ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He said, ‘When I was in college, I had a girlfriend who would help me with it. I had a padded room and I fell down a lot, but I’m not gonna fall down. I can do it.”’

For all that confidence, after last Sunday’s win Edwards acknowledged, “I almost didn’t make it around on that one. I was a little worn out and excited. I was definitely off, but I’ll make it up the next time.”

After such wins, drivers are almost invariably worn out and excited.

Right now the score is one Nextel Cup win, one near-miss on the back-flip for Edwards.

Almost certainly there’ll be a next time, maybe many more, for Edwards. He’s that good. His team is that solid. His victory last Sunday, when he ran down the otherwise dominant Jimmie Johnson in the final turn of the final lap, kept the pedal to the floor and passed by half a car length at the line, was that convincing.

Edwards said Wednesday that if he’s still winning races at 40, he’ll still celebrate with back-flips.

“I practice a couple of days a week at a gym,” he said. “I can do it standing flat on the floor. The car gives me a little extra height” and makes it easier.

Unlike the NFL owner who contractually forbids his quarterback from riding motorcycles, or the baseball owner who won’t let his shortstop play pickup basketball, Roush has acquiesced.

NASCAR is not a game for the skittish. Three years ago, Roush himself almost died after a tiny experimental plane he was piloting clipped a power line and crashed.

“We’ve had discussions about my driving dirt cars and riding motorcycles,” Edwards said of other extra-curricular risks he continues to take. “Jack’s position is, ‘You’re a race car driver. You’ve got to live your life. You’ve got to do what you want to do.’

“It’s my decision. If I risk too much and have an accident or something like that, I suffer the consequences.”

When an owner acquires such a talent, it’s hard to bridle him. Last year in midseason, Roush was sure enough of Edwards to launch him all the way from trucks to Cup, bypassing the usual training year in Busch. It’s the equivalent of bringing a baseball player from Single-A straight to the majors, skipping Double-A or Triple-A.

Chances are, there’ll be more back-flipping to come. Edwards got the idea from Tyler Walker, a sprint-car driver who has moved into the Busch series and can be expected in the big league shortly.

So now the burnout and the doughnut are suddenly passe’ as postrace stunts. The crowds and TV audiences and commentators and especially the photographers love the back-flip.

It’s the new standard that can’t be equaled unless the Hendrick Motorsports drivers all go back to gymnastics school, and can’t be surpassed unless Earnhardt learns to have himself shot out of a cannon in Victory Lane.

“It’s just a good way to show how excited I am,” Edwards said. “I don’t know. The pictures look kind of neat.”

I just remember the pictures in the newspapers of the Georgia Tech cheerleader lying there. They didn’t look neat.