By The Commish

Probably the most heartening news item I've seen this season was a brief press release from Mansfield Motorsports Park noting that the ARCA race on June 20 will be named in honor of Tim Richmond, who died 20 years ago this summer. Unless you're a long-time Hendrick Motorsports fan, you may not remember Tim. If you never saw him race, you won't know why remembering him truly warms the heart of longtime race fans. If you ever saw Tim on the track, then you'll know what I'm talking about. Before Jeff Gordon brought Hollywood good looks to racing, before Dale Earnhardt Jr won the hearts of populist fans, Tim Richmond was THE coolest driver to ever climb into a stock car.

Richmond was born in Ashland, Ohio, to a wealthy family, and started dabbling in racing in his mid-teens. After a few aborted experiments with sprint cars and go-karts, he moved into the Indy Car ranks, winning Rookie of the Year at the Indianapolis 500 in 1980 where he finished 9th. What brought him to the attention of race fans, though, was that he ran out of gas on the final lap. He then hitched a ride back to the pits on the fender of winner Johnny Rutherford's car to the delight of the fans lining the Speedway.

The owner of Pocono Raceway, Dr. Joe Mattioli, saw the race that day and offered Richmond an introduction to stock cars. Driving for a series of underfunded teams, Richmond racked up four wins, 25 top five finishes, and 44 top ten finishes between 1981 and 1985, even though he raced incomplete seasons in 1981 and 1982. With his Italian loafers and constant parade of starlet dates (including actress Mary Frann), Richmond became one of NASCAR's most watchable drivers. His 'checkers or wreckers' approach caught the attention of NASCAR owner Rick Hendrick, who said that Richmond's ability in a race car made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. Although conservative sponsor Procter & Gamble had some reservations, Hendrick teamed up the flamboyant Richmond with veteran Harry Hyde in his new #25 Folgers car. For a brief period, magic happened.

Richmond arrived at the 1986 Daytona 500 in an Armani suit and a man's purse slung over his shoulder. He routinely showed up late for sponsor appearances and media commitments. But somehow, he got away with it. Although it took the new team until early summer to click, Richmond and Hyde scored eight poles, 17 top tens, 13 top fives, and 7 wins in 29 races, finishing third in points to Dale Earnhardt. Richmond showed up at the season-ending banquet at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City in a custom Armani tuxedo with checkered flag lining.

His on-track battles with Darrell Waltrip and Earnhardt were becoming legendary. Everybody thought that 1987 would be Richmond's year, and that he and Hyde would be shoo-ins for the championship. Rival crew chief Larry McReynolds stated that "you could put Tim Richmond in a covered wagon, and if it would steer to the left, he would get the most out of it." The potential for greatness seemed unstoppable, but fate intervened.

Richmond never hid the fact that he had partied long and hard and enjoyed womanizing. Those traits were incorporated into the character of Cole Trickle in Days of Thunder, a movie loosely based on the Richmond-Hyde partnership. What the world didn't know was that Richmond was now paying a terrible price for his playboy lifestyle. A week after the NASCAR banquet in December 1986, he was diagnosed with HIV. In 1986, NASCAR -- and America in general-- was a far more homophobic place. AIDS was popularly associated with homosexuality and drug abuse. Richmond, fearing for his career, tried to hide his condition from the public, from NASCAR, and even from Hendrick. Eventually, it was Richmond's mother Evelyn who would explain to Hendrick what the diagnosis meant.

He missed the 1987 Daytona 500 with "double pneumonia." After a brief return during The Winston at Lowes Motor Speedway, his return to a full-length points race came at Pocono Raceway in June. Magically, after a 40th-place start, he won the race. Anyone who saw the tear-soaked celebration in Victory Lane will never forget it. The following week, he won again at Riverside, but was almost unable to complete the hat dance in Victory Lane because of a terrible racking cough. He would race for the next six weeks, scoring a pole and four top tens, but after a blown engine at Michigan on August 16, the illness began to take its hold on his immune system. Both NASCAR and some of Richmond's fellow drivers brought pressure on Hendrick to make Richmond step aside. He resigned from Hendrick Motorsports in late-August.

Richmond attempted a comeback in 1988, but NASCAR, in one of its most shameful moments, slandered the driver by demanding he take a drug test and then claiming he had failed it. To this day, Rick Hendrick grows angry, calling NASCAR's action "character assassination." Several days later the organization relented, admitting that the test had merely identified Sudafed, an over-the-counter cold medication. No illegal drugs were found. Richmond stopped taking his HIV drugs weeks before in order to pass the test. Unable to find a ride for the race, Richmond planned to hire a plane to tow an insulting message to NASCAR over the track. Kyle Petty, a longtime friend, talked him into a softer stance. As the cars took the track for the race, a banner reading "Fans— I miss you- Tim Richmond" was towed overhead to a standing ovation.

Richmond later filed suit against NASCAR. The organization counter-attacked by filing a request to have his medical records made public, while starting an organized whispering campaign to leak suspicions about his condition to the media. In homophobic 1988 America, Richmond had no choice but to withdraw his suit. He never drove a racecar again. Hendrick says he and Richmond discussed making his AIDS diagnosis public. "He always said maybe I should take a positive step and try to warn people," Hendrick said, "but the country really wasn't ready for it. We all prayed there would be a cure. We chased everything we could find. And if he did come forward, it might have been even worse for him."

His last months were filled with pain. "He suffered," Hendrick said. "He hurt." Richmond died in an isolation room in a South Florida hospital on August 13, 1989 at the age of 34. But Richmond wasn't afraid of death, his friend and former crew chief Barry Dodson recalled. "He was afraid of never having lived," Dodson said. Ten days following his death, his family asked the doctors to announce that Richmond contracted AIDS through heterosexual sex. By going public, Richmond's family hoped to help fight the disease. Instead, NASCAR did its best to obliterate Richmond's memory. With the exception of a mention at the outset of an ESPN telecast the following week, it barely acknowledged his death. The organization said nothing about his illness when Richmond was voted one of NASCAR's 50 greatest drivers in 1998. Dr. Jerry Punch, then an ESPN pit reporter and emergency room physician, quietly steered a number of crew members and other NASCAR-connected people to confidential HIV testing. Two women Richmond dated were disclosed to have developed AIDS; one later died from the disease.

It wasn’t until the 2008 documentary The Ride of Their Lives that a NASCAR-produced film discussed his story in detail. The Mansfield track's decision to honor Richmond is a long-overdue step. So many fans who've discovered the sport in the last two decades never knew how talented, how charismatic, how aggressive, how fun he was. "Richmond had more talent in his little finger than many of us ever had," Kyle Petty said. He's probably right. As Rick Hendrick said, "He would have won a bunch of championships. I think he may have one four or five—- and maybe more than Earnhardt. If you had your choice of spending a day with any driver in NASCAR, you'd spend it with him." Tim, we miss you, too. Now and forever, I will always think of you.

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