I was watching today's NASCAR prerace show and there was a rain delay and they had Brad Keselowski in the studio with them. And they brought up this blog posting, so I decided to go read it. And after just reading it, I felt inspired to share it with my readers. And I really appreciate Brad sharing such a personal story with all of us, his fans. And for being willing to open up to us his fans in such a personal real way. And this story is really a touching story and I really have so much more respect for Brad Keselowski now then I did before. And this is exactly why I love the sport of NASCAR, why it's such a huge part of my life. Because unlike most other sports, NASCAR drivers don't mind sharing a little more of their real selves with their fans. Thank you so much Brad for posting this. This story will help so many people and inspire to many people!
The Crew Challenge Presented By
The Meaning of Winning
March 12, 2014 | by @Keselowski
What’s it like to win?
That’s a question — along with what it’s like to drive a
race car — that I’m asked a lot. And after winning both races at Las
Vegas this past weekend, it seemed like a pretty natural topic for this
week’s blog.
But it’s hard to anticipate the emotions that you experience after a big win. Sunday night,
flying home after the weekend, I found myself thinking about one person
in particular. His story is one that’s deep and personal, one I’ve
never shared with anyone but those in my closest inner circle. I don’t
think anyone outside that circle even knows about it. That story came to
an end on the weekend of my last victory, which came in October 2013 in
Charlotte.
I’m going to tell it to you now.
Unimaginable things were happening behind the scenes in Charlotte in October 2013.FRIENDS ON THE RISE
The day in 2007 that I moved to North Carolina to drive
Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s Nationwide car, I moved into Dale’s guest house,
which was located near a series of townhouses that Dale also owned. I
made a friend there. I’m going to use only his first name for his
family’s sake. His name was James.
James and I were about the same age, in our mid-twenties,
and both of us had very similar stories as far as trying to break into
racing went. He had studied to get an engineering degree, and was
looking to turn that into an engineering position in racing. At the
time, James was working as an understudy/mechanic’s apprentice at JR
Motorsports.
Neither of us had two nickels to rub together, but we
lived near each other, we were on the same team and we were kind of all
in it together. So naturally, we built up a friendship right away. He
became one of my great friends.
To those who paid attention to the sport, James was
probably most recognizable because he was African American. Even though
it’s gotten easier to be an African American in the sport of auto
racing, it still isn’t easy by any means. But James never used that to
his advantage. He just thought of himself as another guy. I always
respected that about him.
As time went on, James and I both started to make it a
little bit further in the sport. He caught on as an engineer, and became
affiliated with Hendrick Motorsports about the same time I left JR
Motorsports to join Team Penske. I moved away from that area, but
maintained the friendship with him, especially over the winter. The
offseason is the time when you can be friends without having to worry
about sharing team secrets.
It seemed like we were both on our way.
A DOWNWARD SPIRAL
Then cutbacks hit the racing industry because of the
recession. James didn’t make the cut. The next thing I knew, he had
gotten laid off.
I felt bad for him like you would feel bad for anyone who
loses their job, especially someone you’re friends with. I tried to help
him out by bringing him onto my truck team, but we didn’t have much
success with funding on the truck team, either, and I couldn’t afford to
keep him.
It got to a point where he couldn’t afford the place he was living at.
Around that same time, I broke my ankle in a bad crash
during a test at Road Atlanta. I was at home all alone, having some
issues getting around my house, and it seemed like something always
needed fixing. Because we were good friends, I told James that until he
got back on his feet and found another job, he could stay at my place,
rent free. All I asked him to do was take care of the place, and keep
things going. It just made sense. He could help me out. The house was a
lot bigger than I needed anyway.
So James moved in.
He was a friend of mine. I
had a lot of respect for him. He was just in a really bad spot because
he couldn’t find a job in racing, and didn’t know anything else.
About a year and a half went by, and he essentially became
my roommate. All the while, he kept trying to find a job in the
industry, but he didn’t have much success. He was going through all the
hardships that those who don’t have a job go through. It was kind of a
bummer to see, because just like me, James didn’t know anything else but
racing, Not having a job, not having any money can be really tough on
you mentally. He went through some bouts with depression.
Then around the middle of last season, I heard James was having issues with the law.
At first, I didn’t want to believe it. He was a friend of
mine. I had a lot of respect for him. He was just in a really bad spot
because he couldn’t find a job in racing, and didn’t know anything else.
No one knows for certain what they’d do in the same situation. Who
knows — maybe I would’ve done the same thing. But eventually the facts
just got so strong that I knew I had to do something. I felt terrible,
but I also knew I couldn’t have that around me. So I asked him to leave.
THE WORST OF TIMES
Not long after James moved out, several items went missing
from my house. Among them were military rifles -- some that I had
purchased, others that I’d received from military friends I’d met
through my foundation. That made me pretty nervous. These were rifles
that could do a lot of damage if they got into the wrong hands. I asked
the police to investigate. For more than a month, they kept coming back
and telling me that they thought James had them. Again, I didn’t want to
believe that.
This was all happening around the time of the October
Kansas races last year. That particular weekend, I got into an incident
with Kyle Busch in the Nationwide race. The following Monday, someone
broke into the Brad Keselowski Racing shop where we kept my Camping
World Trucks Series trucks. They left a Monster Energy can on the front
desk in the lobby. (Monster is one of Kyle’s sponsors.) We thought it
was just some kids messing around. Pranks happen a lot in that area, so
we moved on.
A few days later, the police found James. They asked if he
had the rifles, and told him that if he gave them back right then and
there, they would not prosecute him, and we could all just move on. I
agreed. I didn’t want to see James in any legal trouble. I just wanted
the stuff returned.
When they got the items back from James, they asked if
there was anything else he had taken, giving him a chance to give
everything back that he might have. In addition to the rifles, he handed
over some papers.
Among them were files that had gone missing from the truck shop.
Suddenly, as far as the police were concerned, the deal
was off. The truck shop was located in another county. It was no longer
my choice whether to press charges. That county decided they were going
to arrest James, and charge him with breaking and entering. They decided
that the best process would be to call him, ask him where he was, and
tell him they were coming to pick him up.
When he received that call, James fled the area, which was
even more concerning because we were nearby, right in the middle of the
race weekend at Charlotte.
The situation got really dicey. The police sent a couple
officers to my house to keep watch. A few more were sent to Charlotte
Motor Speedway, joining NASCAR security there at the track. I wound up
staying off-site in my bus instead of at my house.
There was an ongoing manhunt for James.
That Saturday, we went out, ran the race and I won. It was
my first and only win in the 2013 season. The next day, we had a party
at Paul and Aleah Wolfe’s house. A lot of the crew guys asked me why I
wasn’t more excited. I couldn’t tell them, which was kind of
heartbreaking. And the police still hadn’t found James. I ended up
spending that night on Paul and Aleah’s couch.
Monday, I went to Charlotte Motor Speedway to run a test
for NASCAR’s new rules package for 2014. I received a phone call from my
sister. They had just found James.
My heart sank. From the sound of her voice, I already knew what had happened.
“I have some bad news,” she said. “He took his own life.”
THE MEANING OF WINNING
For the first time in the last few years, I have a steady
girlfriend. Her name is Paige. She was the one who pushed me to tell
this story. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but the more I thought
about it, I realized she was right.
I credit her for that.
Paige, at my left after our win at Las Vegas, encouraged me to tell this story.
When our team wins a race, it’s always a little difficult
for me to celebrate and really let my emotion all the way out. Part of
that is because I know how lucky I am to be where I am, and to have made
it so far in this sport. For me, it involved making sacrifices like
deciding not to go to college, and later leaving home on my own to try
and make it.
But there are a lot of others just like me who put
everything on the line to try and make it — who burned their ships like
Cortes, as I referenced in my last blog entry.
They made those same sacrifices. And a lot of those people didn’t make
it. It’s because I’ve been there and sacrificed that I really feel for
those people. It’s something I’m mindful of when celebrating a win.
This blog entry is a tribute to them.
Credits: Brad Keselowski
http://bradracing.com/
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