By The Commish

The "de-Southernization" of NASCAR has been widely debated. True, the sport’s roots are deeply and inescapably entwined with the culture and values of the South, but to be considered a truly major sport, NASCAR had to grow outside its regional bounds. The arrival of Jeff Gordon, a Californian raised in Indiana and familiar to a large part of the country through his ESPN exposure, gave NASCAR the perfect marketing tool. Before the arrival of Gordon, the majority of NASCAR races outside the South were in small TV markets (New Hampshire, Pocono, Dover). Today, 10 of the 36 Cup races are held outside the South, and NASCAR is eagerly pursuing tracks in the New York and Seattle metropolitan areas as well. Articulate, handsome, media-savvy, and regionally unmarked (is his accent California, Indiana, or Carolina anyway?), Gordon was the perfect vehicle for NASCAR to send into new media areas as the "typical" NASCAR driver.

In the first decade of his career, Gordon was many non-racing fan's first exposure to a clean-cut, respectful driver. In a period when sports fans were becoming increasingly disillusioned with athletes with feet of clay, Gordon’s TV persona — whether it be on Live with Regis and Kelly, Larry King, or Saturday Night Live — attracted a fan base NASCAR desperately wanted to attract. Namely wealthier, better educated, and more predominantly female. That popularity was parlayed into a variety of national sponsorships from Pepsi to Tag Heuer—with companies not often associated with a regional sport. Gordon’s arrival and conduct opened up NASCAR as a national sport—one that continues to build on the base he established.

Drivers, especially champion drivers, achieve their success through being selfish. That’s why a multi-car team may have several drivers, but the concept of drivers as true teammates hasn’t worked since the Carl Kiekhafer days, not even in the heady days of the Rainbow Warriors. When Gordon and Hendrick teamed up to field the 48 car driven by Jimmie Johnson in 2002, they were consciously creating a new model of total sharing among teams. Gordon’s willingness to set aside his ego and share his race shop, his car, and all his data with an unproven teammate—and the success both teams have enjoyed since the 24/48 shop opened—has set a new standard for NASCAR teams. Since moving into a new shared race shop last winter, the #5 and #25 teams, long the stepchildren at HMS, have begun to show signs of coalescing. Though Mark Martin has long argued that he doesn’t have teammates, just drivers who drive for the same owner, Jack Roush’s first championship (Matt Kenseth in 2003) came when he moved to the same “sharing” concept. Richie Gilmore, tagged with the thankless task of straightening out the snake pit DEI has become, has announced that the #8 and #15 teams will finally go to this model. The Penske teams admit that interteam rivalries between the #2 and #12 cars have hampered their progress. As multicar teams achieve a greater and greater dominance in racing, Gordon and Hendrick’s insistence on totally equal teammates is changing the sport even further.

Gordon’s largest legacy to the sport will be his public support of philanthropy. While NASCAR drivers always have been generous with their time and support (and to a lesser extent with their money), Gordon has set new standards for his peers to emulate. Gordon’s foundation, established in 1999, was an outgrowth of his work with the Hendrick Marrow Foundation and is a visible signal of his commitment to sharing the results of his success with others. Tony Stewart may have gained headlines for promising to raise a million dollars for the Victory Junction Gang Camp (over a ten-year period), but Gordon quietly but effectively has raised more than double that amount every year since his third championship.

While older drivers tend to hang on to their money, and the Dale Earnhardt foundation has been criticized for being slow to distribute the proceeds of the funds donated after the driver’s death, slowly, the drivers who have arrived in NASCAR after Gordon have established foundations of their own—Stewart and Ryan Newman being the most visible of them. After the Jeff Gordon Foundation donated $250,000 to endow a campers’ cabin at Victory Junction, a group of young drivers headed by Brian Vickers raised the cash for a matching donation.

That legacy of generosity reached its peak in May, when NorthEast Medical Center announced that it would name its new children’s hospital wing after Gordon, who has donated over a million dollars to the building efforts. While Gordon was characteristically humble about it, saying “All I want is to see other boys and girls have the ability to take advantage of their opportunities,” this is truly a life-changing action on his part. Drivers have streets, parks, and sometimes playgrounds named after them for their success; to my knowledge, this is the first time a public entity has named a hospital after a driver, not for his success on the track, but for his generosity as a philanthropist. What could be a more enduring legacy than helping children and their families find health and comfort? Gordon has once again raised the barrier for successful athletes in their sport; now it’s time for Dale Earnhardt Jr., Jimmie Johnson, Kurt Busch, and others to step up to Gordon’s legacy of helping.

So whenever that 77th win comes for Gordon — and it will come in the not-too-distant future — expect lots of controversy over which was the better driver on the track. That’s inevitable, and probably an argument that can never be settled. But feel free to argue that Gordon’s impact on his sport has been far bigger than Earnhardt’s ever was. With probably five more years to go in his distinguished racing career, his legacy is already secure as a man who has changed his sport in scope, in practice, and in impact. Gordon may not be a cultural icon, but his greatness is assured.

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