We are closing in on the final handful of weeks of the 2023 NASCAR Cup Series season, the stock car series’ 75th anniversary campaign. To celebrate, each week through the end of the season, Ryan McGee is presenting his top five favorite things about the sport.
Top five best-looking cars? Check. Top five toughest drivers? We’ve got it. Top five mustaches? There can be only one, so maybe not.
Without further ado, our 75 favorite things about NASCAR, celebrating 75 years of stock car racing.
As October looms, so do the final six rankings of our NASCAR 75th anniversary celebration top five all-time greatest lists. A few weeks back we listed the greatest cheaters, and the immediate response on social media was, “Yeah, but what about that time that one guy did that thing that was so scandalous?!” For those who wondered, “Why TH isn’t McGee responding to me?” it’s because I knew this week’s list was coming.
From rule benders to rule breakers to people who seemed to have forgotten there were any rules at all, it’s time to grab a list of policies you’re totally going to ignore, a redacted court document and a suspended NASCAR license as we present our top five all-time biggest NASCAR scandals.
Honorable mention: NASCAR’s D.B. Cooper
On May 2, 1982, a man identified as L.W. Wright competed at the Talladega Superspeedway in a Chevy Monte Carlo, starting 36th and finishing 39th despite having never run a Cup Series race before or since. As soon as his run in the Winston 500 was over, he vanished, taking the money he had received from investors, parking the race car purchased from Sterling and Coo Coo Marlin, and then disappearing for 40 years, despite the efforts of authorities and lawyers to track him down.
He resurfaced one year ago, speaking with longtime NASCAR journalist Rick Houston at a secret location and still proclaiming his innocence. We broke the news here on ESPN with this May 2022 story.
5. The King’s big engine
There are only three rules that even the shadiest of racing innovators still shake their heads at: “rocket fuel” gas additives, illegal use of tires and running an engine that is larger than regulations allow. On Oct. 9, 1983, the King of Stock Car Racing found himself caught up in a royal mess that involved two of those three NASCAR no-nos.
Richard Petty earned the 198th win of his career, the latest step in his much-hyped march toward the magical 200-victory mark, at Charlotte Motor Speedway, holding off fellow Hall of Famers Darrell Waltrip, Benny Parsons and Terry Labonte. But in postrace inspection, the famous No. 43 Pontiac was found to have a 381.983-cubic-inch engine, well over the allowed 358-cubic-inch limit. What’s more, during the final pit stop, the team had bolted left-side tires on the right side, also way against the rules.
After three hours of deliberation, it was determined that the win would stand, but Petty was stripped of 104 points and handed a then-record $30,000 fine. Years later, mechanic Maurice Petty, himself a Hall of Famer, confessed to it all. That night, big brother Richard (in)famously said, “We have accepted NASCAR’s penalty. I’m only the driver, and I didn’t know anything about the motor or tires.”
4. Wendell Scott’s missing trophy
On a cold Dec.1, 1963, evening at Jacksonville Speedway Park in Florida, the poor-but-proud powder blue No. 34 Chevy of Wendell Scott outlasted a field of 21 rivals, taking the checkered flag a full two laps ahead of second place Buck Baker. As was the motorsport modus operandi at the time, though, protests were filed and the hand-scored lap sheets kept by NASCAR and the individual teams were rounded up for review.
Baker was declared the winner, taking the Victory Lane photos and collecting the trophy. Later that night, NASCAR admitted a scoring error and declared Scott the rightful winner, but Baker and the trophy were long gone.
“They all knew I had won that race,” Scott said decades later. “But they didn’t want a Black man kissing that beauty queen in Victory Lane.”
That’s right, Scott was the first — and, until Bubba Wallace in 2021, the only — Black race winner in the NASCAR Cup Series. NASCAR didn’t give Scott a new trophy for years, finally righting that inexplicable wrong in 2021, 57 years after his win. Scott was elected to the NASCAR Hall of Fame in 2015.
3. Aaron Fike’s heroin confession
NASCAR’s original drug-related scandal took place in 1988, when Tim Richmond, amid rumors that he was suffering from AIDS, was suspended for testing positive for banned substances and the sanctioning body’s very loose “We’ll test only if we have our suspicions” approach was born. That policy stood until April 2008.
What changed? Aaron Fike, a Truck Series competitor who had been arrested one year earlier for heroin possession, admitted to ESPN that he had raced with heroin in his system multiple times, even finishing in the top five the same week he was arrested. Fike’s confession forced NASCAR to overhaul its drug policy, publishing a formal list of banned substances and implementing random drug testing more in line with other major sports.
That new policy led to another giant scandal, the May 2009 suspension of driver and five-time Cup Series race winner Jeremy Mayfield, who tested positive for methamphetamines and began a yearslong series of lawsuits. For the full story behind Fike’s confession, read this ESPN The Magazine story from April 8, 2008.
2. ‘Spingate’
We touched on this briefly a few weeks ago in our list of top five biggest cheaters, but the details of what took place on Sept. 7, 2013, at Richmond International Raceway are worth diving into. Entire chapters of books and endless hours of podcasts have been dedicated to that night, but here’s the SparkNotes version: In the final cutoff event for the 10-race Chase postseason field, driver Clint Bowyer of Michael Waltrip Racing was sent a code by his crew chief Brian Pattie — “Is your arm starting to hurt? Must be hot in there.” — immediately followed by a Bowyer spin that brought out the caution flag with less than 10 laps remaining. Then, with three laps remaining, MWR GM/VP Ty Norris ordered Brian Vickers to make a green-flag pit stop.
It was all designed to help teammate Martin Truex Jr. move up in the field and make the Chase cut. It worked. For a minute. Then NASCAR cracked the MWR code.
MWR was fined a record $300,000 for manipulating the outcome of the race and the postseason, Norris was suspended; all three crew chiefs were placed on probation; and all three drivers were docked 50 points, which knocked Truex back out of the postseason field. Embarrassed sponsor NAPA cut ties with the team, putting Truex’s career in jeopardy (he recovered with Furniture Row and Joe Gibbs Racing) and setting MWR on the path that would ultimately end with its closure two years later.
1. Jimmy Hoffa vs. NASCAR
Yes, you read that right. The infamous union leader, who has inspired Hollywood movies with his questionable business practices and inspired a million conspiracy theorists searching for his final resting place, went to war with NASCAR. It didn’t go well.
It started in 1960, when driving ace Curtis Turner and entrepreneur Bruton Smith needed funding for their under-construction and already-bankrupt Charlotte Motor Speedway. Hoffa’s Teamsters union stepped up, offering the needed cash in exchange for the formation of a NASCAR drivers’ union. The Federation of Professional Athletes (FPA) was born, and Turner, along with fellow superstar Tim Flock, recruited the paddock with the promise of more prize money, a pension plan, health and death benefits, safety advancements, even scholarship funds for the children of deceased members.
NASCAR founder and president Bill France didn’t have so much of a problem with all that, but he was adamantly against something Hoffa was asking for in return, the establishment of horse track-style betting windows at speedways.
“Organized gambling would be bad for our sport,” France wrote in an open letter to the FPA. “And it would spill innocent blood on our racetrack. I will fight it to the end!”
He did, going to court vs. the Teamsters … in Florida.
“We went down there to Daytona with all these super-high-powered, high-dollar New York lawyers,” Flock recalled shortly before his death in 1998. “And those country lawyers of Bill France’s just whipped ’em. Our guys would be pouring their hearts out in the courtroom, and the judge would be sitting up there reading comic books and magazines. We never had a chance.”
Drivers bailed on the FPA, which folded in 1962, and Turner and Flock were slapped with lifetime bans. Turner returned briefly in 1965, but Flock remained on the outs until his death in 1998, finally elected to the NASCAR Hall of Fame in 2014. Turner was voted in two years later.
ESPN baseball reporter. Covered the L.A. Rams for ESPN from 2016 to 2018 and the L.A. Angels for MLB.com from 2012 to 2016.
GLENDALE, Ariz. — Sometime around mid-August last year, Mookie Betts convened with the Los Angeles Dodgers‘ coaches. He had taken stock of what transpired while he rehabbed a broken wrist, surveyed his team’s roster and accepted what had become plainly obvious: He needed to return to right field.
For the better part of five months, Betts had immersed himself in the painstaking task of learning shortstop in the midst of a major league season. It was a process that humbled him but also invigorated him, one he had desperately wanted to see through. On the day he gave it up, Chris Woodward, at that point an adviser who had intermittently helped guide Betts through the transition, sought him out. He shook Betts’ hand, told him how much he respected his efforts and thanked him for the work.
“Oh, it ain’t over yet,” Betts responded. “For now it’s over, but we’re going to win the World Series, and then I’m coming back.”
Woodward, now the Dodgers’ full-time first-base coach and infield instructor, recalled that conversation from the team’s spring training complex at Camelback Ranch last week and smiled while thinking about how those words had come to fruition. The Dodgers captured a championship last fall, then promptly determined that Betts, the perennial Gold Glove outfielder heading into his age-32 season, would be the every-day shortstop on one of the most talented baseball teams ever assembled.
From November to February, Betts visited high school and collegiate infields throughout the L.A. area on an almost daily basis in an effort to solidify the details of a transition he did not have time to truly prepare for last season.
Pedro Montero, one of the Dodgers’ video coordinators, placed an iPad onto a tripod and aimed its camera in Betts’ direction while he repeatedly pelted baseballs into the ground with a fungo bat, then sent Woodward the clips to review from his home in Arizona. The three spoke almost daily.
By the time Betts arrived in spring training, Woodward noticed a “night and day” difference from one year to the next. But he still acknowledges the difficulty of what Betts is undertaking, and he noted that meaningful games will ultimately serve as the truest arbiter.
The Dodgers have praised Betts for an act they described as unselfish, one that paved the way for both Teoscar Hernandez and Michael Conforto to join their corner outfield and thus strengthen their lineup. Betts himself has said his move to shortstop is a function of doing “what I feel like is best for the team.” But it’s also clear that shouldering that burden — and all the second-guessing and scrutiny that will accompany it — is something he wants.
He wants to be challenged. He wants to prove everybody wrong. He wants to bolster his legacy.
“Mookie wants to be the best player in baseball, and I don’t see why he wouldn’t want that,” Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said. “I think if you play shortstop, with his bat, that gives him a better chance.”
ONLY 21 PLAYERS since 1900 have registered 100 career games in right field and 100 career games at shortstop, according to ESPN Research. It’s a list compiled mostly of lifelong utility men. The only one among them who came close to following Betts’ path might have been Tony Womack, an every-day right fielder in his age-29 season and an every-day shortstop in the three years that followed. But Womack had logged plenty of professional shortstop experience before then.
Through his first 12 years in professional baseball, Betts accumulated just 13 starts at shortstop, all of them in rookie ball and Low-A from 2011 to 2012. His path — as a no-doubt Hall of Famer and nine-time Gold Glove right fielder who will switch to possibly the sport’s most demanding position in his 30s — is largely without precedent. And yet the overwhelming sense around the Dodgers is that if anyone can pull it off, it’s him.
“Mookie’s different,” third baseman Max Muncy said. “I think this kind of challenge is really fun for him. I think he just really enjoys it. He’s had to put in a lot of hard work — a lot of work that people haven’t seen — but I just think he’s such a different guy when it comes to the challenge of it that he’s really enjoying it. When you look at how he approaches it, he’s having so much fun trying to get as good as he can be. There’s not really any question in anyone’s mind here that he’s going to be a very good defensive shortstop.”
Betts entered the 2024 season as the primary second baseman, a position to which he had long sought a return, but transitioned to shortstop on March 8, 12 days before the Dodgers would open their season from South Korea, after throwing issues began to plague Gavin Lux. Almost every day for the next three months, Betts put himself through a rigorous pregame routine alongside teammate Miguel Rojas and third-base coach Dino Ebel in an effort to survive at the position.
The metrics were unfavorable, scouts were generally unimpressed and traditional statistics painted an unflattering picture — all of which was to be expected. Simply put, Betts did not have the reps. He hadn’t spent significant time at shortstop since he was a teenager at Overton High School in Nashville, Tennessee. He was attempting to cram years of experience through every level of professional baseball into the space allotted to him before each game, a task that proved impossible.
Betts committed nine errors during his time at shortstop, eight of them the result of errant throws. He often lacked the proper footwork to put himself in the best position to throw accurately across the diamond, but the Dodgers were impressed by how quickly he seemed to grasp other aspects of the position that seemed more difficult for others — pre-pitch timing, range, completion of difficult plays.
Shortly after the Dodgers defeated the New York Yankees to win their first full-season championship since 1988, Betts sat down with Dodgers coaches and executives and expressed his belief that, if given the proper time, he would figure it out. And so it was.
“If Mook really wants to do something, he’s going to do everything he can to be an elite, elite shortstop,” Dodgers general manager Brandon Gomes said. “I’m not going to bet against that guy.”
THE FIRST TASK was determining what type of shortstop Betts would be. Woodward consulted with Ryan Goins, the current Los Angeles Angels infield coach who is one of Betts’ best friends. The two agreed that he should play “downhill,” attacking the baseball, making more one-handed plays and throwing largely on the run, a style that fit better for a transitioning outfielder.
During a prior stint on the Dodgers’ coaching staff, Woodward — the former Texas Rangers manager who rejoined the Dodgers staff after Los Angeles’ previous first-base coach, Clayton McCullough, became the Miami Marlins‘ manager in the offseason — implemented the same style with Corey Seager, who was widely deemed too tall to remain a shortstop.
“He doesn’t love the old-school, right-left, two-hands, make-sure-you-get-in-front-of-the-ball type of thing,” Woodward said of Betts. “It doesn’t make sense to him. And I don’t coach that way. I want them to be athletic, like the best athlete they can possibly be, so that way they can use their lower half, get into their legs, get proper direction through the baseball to line to first. And that’s what Mookie’s really good at.”
Dodger Stadium underwent a major renovation of its clubhouse space over the offseason, making the field unusable and turning Montero and Betts into nomads. From the second week of November through the first week of February, the two trained at Crespi Carmelite High School near Betts’ home in Encino, California, then Sierra Canyon, Los Angeles Valley College and, finally, Loyola High.
For a handful of days around New Year’s, Betts flew to Austin, Texas, to get tutelage from Troy Tulowitzki, the five-time All-Star and two-time Gold Glove Award winner whose mechanics Betts was drawn to. In early January, when wildfires spread through the L.A. area, Betts flew to Glendale, Arizona, to train with Woodward in person.
Mostly, though, it was Montero as the eyes and ears on the ground and Woodward as the adviser from afar. Their sessions normally lasted about two hours in the morning, evolving from three days a week to five and continually ramping up in intensity. The goal for the first two months was to hone the footwork skills required to make a variety of different throws, but also to give Betts plenty of reps on every ground ball imaginable.
When January came, Betts began to carve out a detailed, efficient routine that would keep him from overworking when the games began. It accounted for every situation, included backup scenarios for uncontrollable events — when it rained, when there wasn’t enough time, when pregame batting practice stretched too long — and was designed to help Betts hold up. What was once hundreds of ground balls was pared down to somewhere in the neighborhood of 35, but everything was accounted for.
LAST YEAR, BETTS’ throws were especially difficult for Freddie Freeman to catch at first base, often cutting or sailing or darting. But when Freeman joined Betts in spring training, he noticed crisp throws that consistently arrived with backspin and almost always hit the designated target. Betts was doing a better job of getting his legs under him on batted balls hit in a multitude of directions. Also, Rojas said, he “found his slot.”
“Technically, talking about playing shortstop, finding your slot is very important because you’re throwing the ball from a different position than when you throw it from right field,” Rojas explained. “You’re not throwing the ball from way over the top or on the bottom. So he’s finding a slot that is going to work for him. He’s understanding now that you need a slot to throw the ball to first base, you need a slot to throw the ball to second base, you need a slot to throw the ball home and from the side.”
Dodgers super-utility player Enrique Hernandez has noticed a “more loose” Betts at shortstop this spring. Roberts said Betts is “two grades better” than he was last year, before a sprained left wrist placed him on the injured list on June 17 and prematurely ended his first attempt. Before reporting to spring training, Betts described himself as “a completely new person over there.”
“But we’ll see,” he added.
The games will be the real test. At that point, Woodward said, it’ll largely come down to trusting the work he has put in over the past four months. Betts is famously hard on himself, and so Woodward has made it a point to remind him that, as long as his process is sound, imperfection is acceptable.
“This is dirt,” Woodward will often tell him. “This isn’t perfect.”
The Dodgers certainly don’t need Betts to be their shortstop. If it doesn’t work out, he can easily slide back to second base. Rojas, the superior defender whose offensive production prompted Betts’ return to right field last season, can fill in on at least a part-time basis. So can Tommy Edman, who at this point will probably split his time between center field and second base, and so might Hyeseong Kim, the 26-year-old middle infielder who was signed out of South Korea this offseason.
But it’s clear Betts wants to give it another shot.
As Roberts acknowledged, “He certainly felt he had unfinished business.”
PHOENIX — Milwaukee Brewers outfielder Blake Perkins is expected to miss the first month of the season after fracturing his right shin during batting practice.
Brewers manager Pat Murphy revealed the severity of Perkins’ injury before their Cactus League opener Saturday against the Cincinnati Reds.
“They’re estimating another three to four weeks to heal and a ramp-up of four to six weeks,” Murphy said. “So you’re probably looking at May.”
Perkins, 28, batted .240 with a .316 on-base percentage, six homers, 43 RBIs and 23 steals in 121 games last season. He also was a National League Gold Glove finalist at center field.
“Perkins is a big part of our team,” Murphy said. “The chemistry of the team, the whole thing, Perk’s huge. He’s one of the most loved guys on the club, and he’s a great defender, coming into his own as an offensive player. Yeah, it’s going to hurt us.”
Murphy also said right-handed pitcher J.B. Bukauskas has what appears to be a serious lat injury and is debating whether to undergo surgery. Bukauskas had a 1.50 ERA in six relief appearances last year but missed much of the season with a lat issue.
ALTUS, Okla. — Eddie Fisher, the right-hander whose 15-year major league career included an All-Star selection for the Chicago White Sox and a World Series title with Baltimore, has died. He was 88.
The Lowell-Tims Funeral Home & Crematory in Altus says Fisher died Monday after a brief illness.
Born July 16, 1936, in Shreveport, Louisiana, Fisher made his big league debut in 1959 for the San Francisco Giants. He later played for the White Sox and Orioles, as well as Cleveland, California and St. Louis.
Primarily a reliever over the course of his career, Fisher was an All-Star in 1965, when he went 15-7 with a 2.40 ERA and made what was then an American League record of 82 appearances. He was with the Orioles the following year when they won the World Series.