There Is No Next Week

There Is No “Next Week”

Although I consider myself a motorsports enthusiast, I spend most of any free weekend I have working on or enjoying my own vehicles as opposed to watching broadcasts of other competitions. (These days it is more work than enjoyment; a topic for another day.) That is why I missed the opportunity to watch in real-time what Ross Chastain pulled off in Martinsville this past Sunday. I caught the highlights that evening and watched it over and over again. I’ve read many of the articles that have been written since. And yes, despite my years of experience that suggest that one should never ever enter the Comments Section, I’ve torn through many of the reactions to what really was a spectacular and gutsy maneuver. I made posts about it on both my Contender Motorsports company page and my individual profile . I just kept thinking about it, and how I could use some of that energy in my own pursuits.

For starters, I will not be putting my Z intentionally into any walls any time soon. Unlike a professional NASCAR outfit, I do not possess a pit crew or any semblance of a team of professionals who could put the vehicle back together in a week’s time. There’s no danger of any copycat maneuvers from me in a literal sense. That being said, Chastain’s decision was not without potential consequences, even for a team as well-resourced as his. The knee-jerk reaction of a critic might be that he simply didn’t care what happened and decided to Send It. I don’t believe that to be accurate. I’ve read transcripts of his interviews following the move. I didn’t come away with the sense that it was careless disregard for his own well-being or that of others. Those thoughts and the premise I lay before you are why I felt compelled to spend more time thinking and writing about this.

I believe he cared very deeply about what happened, and that’s why he did it.

I will readily admit that I don’t have a full command of how NASCAR’s playoff system works. There’s an explainer article here , but even having perused it, I still don’t really get it or care for it. (There still appears to be a full field of drivers beyond those in contention, which I’m just not sure why they continue to or are compelled to show up. I guess it would be weird with only 4 cars on the track. I dunno. I don’t make up the rules.) However, what I do understand is that if Ross Chastain wanted to be in contention for the overall championship next weekend, he had to secure the fourth and final spot this week or there effectively was no ‘next week.’

Over the years, I’ve taken a number of those personality assessments. I believe the most recent one an employer had us do was the DISC Assessment . In none of them am I absolutely any one definitive phenotype; I think the same was true for the DISC. I was some mix of C and D (with some bias slightly in favor of C if I’m recalling correctly.) I guess my point in sharing is that my default is typically to go slow and steady, make sure things are done correctly first before seeking to speed along to the next task. In offroad driving, the mantra is often, “Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.” That’s me at my baseline. There are times though, where the D in me recognizes that the circumstances warrant a more expedited and decisive response. “Fast is fast.” Chastain’s decision was a fast-is-fast moment for sure.

No race car’s tires can generate the resistive forces necessary to accelerate to the extent that Chastain needed to (a full 70 mph faster than his nearest rival) while holding the racing line. It is a physical impossibility. (Also, pretty much everyone was already on the racing line cluttering the path to success.) Chastain needed the position. And to achieve it, he needed the wall. There was, of course, the damage penalty. And as adept as I once was in my command of physics (and dynamics, and materials science), at my best, I could not have calculated in the moments he had available, the extent of damage he would incur and the practical performance limits governing how much damage his vehicle could sustain before catastrophic failure. Stated differently, once started, how much carnage could the car endure before calamity? Chastain’s certainly a better driver than me; I’m confident he’s not a better engineer than I was. Therefore, I doubt he knew the answer either. Regardless, without the commitment to the course of action this week, there is no conversation about next week. That’s what I find both compelling and inspiring.

It really doesn’t matter who is or isn’t your favorite driver (or if you even have one). What they do every weekend of the season takes tremendous skill and talent. No one out there is a bum. There is big money behind these outfits to put the best machine and the best drivers out there to compete. Sometimes the outcomes boil down to who made the least mistakes. Sometimes it is quality control. There can be a myriad of factors. What I really like about this moment is that things had mostly gone right for a good number of drivers who were all there jockeying for position coming into Turn 3. It was a move with both great risk and great reward. Only one driver took it. That’s what made the difference.

I’m not sure I can find it now, but the first article I came across Sunday night had audio clips from various drivers as the move was unfolding. One of the drivers whom Chastain overtook remarked, “I did all I could do, Chris.” Fans on Twitter were mocking this driver, rhetorically inquiring, “Well, did you put it into the wall? Guess you DIDN’T do all you could do then.”

That’s not entirely fair (albeit accurate). Much like this particular driver, I think I and many of my contemporaries are at times constrained by what we perceive as norms. We do what is expected of us without fully exploring what a given moment might allow or even require of us. Have you ever had a boss or a colleague remark towards the end of the work week when something hadn’t quite gotten buttoned up, “Well, we’ll pick it back up next week”? That’s all well and good when we have that luxury or convenience. Not every undertaking or task is mission critical. This weekend at Martinsville was mission critical for Chastain and his team. We got a very clear picture of two outcomes. We saw a proficient and competent driver execute a textbook race only to lose and lament that they had done all they could, within norms. And we also saw a driver that committed to defying norms (while still operating within rules) and achieve their intended outcome.

For the next 6 weeks, I’m committing to figuratively putting it – whatever IT may be – into the wall. Every decision, into the wall at 200+ mph. I don’t know that I have 6 weeks. None of us does, if you really think about it. Dark. But starting this week, I’ve already begun setting such things in motion as if I don’t have another week assured to me. I am both excited and terrified to find out if the things I’ve been building will withstand it. Now, more than ever, I realize the importance of winning this week, winning this moment. Because without that commitment, there is no such thing as next week.