Daytona.
Being my
teammate now, I sat him down and told him this would stop happening. Did I
mention I was part owner of Riley-Simplex Racing now? So yeah, this would stop
happening if Paul wanted to keep his spot on the team. Screw his five-year
contract. I would find a way out of it.
“You know
that I own part of this team, right?” I said to him after a team meeting at the
shop in Mooresville when he told me I had an attitude.
He smiled
reaching for the door but kept his eyes on me.
“I don’t
say that to be cocky, but, well, if you want to continue with this team shit
needs to change.”
Again, he
smiled. Here’s something most fans don’t know. When another racer spouts off
after a race that he will be getting another driver back for his on track
aggression, this is usually false representation. If he says nothing, expect
the payback when you least expect it.
Paul being
as hungry as the next driver, and on a 56-race losing streak, didn’t feel too
threatened by my response and tried his “cutting down” trick again in Bristol.
One thing
I had learned about Bristol over the years that most hadn’t figured out was the
track. It was as if Bristol was my own personal playground so to speak. I knew
every corner and every crack on that surface. I could set the fastest lap
without trying and could win on any given night with a fifth place car if
needed. So, when Paul came down on me entering turn two at the night race
there, he had a rude awakening.
I checked
up, let him come down and then passed him on the high side, roosting the marbles as I drifted into turn three to take the win.
He smashed
so hard into the inside concrete wall he had to be taken to a nearby hospital
because they thought he did some damage to his head.
Did he
ever pull that move on me again? No.
Would he
be searching for another job next season?
Without a doubt.
In my
mind, if you couldn’t respect your own teammates, you had no reason to be out
there. Even back in my rookie season, I also respected, and still do, my
teammates. Hell, I respected every driver out there until they gave me a reason
not to. Paul gave me a reason. I like to think that most understood where I was
coming from with Paul but most didn’t. My dad did, for the most part. It was a
constant question debated with the media and one interview with my dad had a
lot of impact on the situation.
“That’s
Jameson,” he told the media after Bristol. He spoke slowly and with a passion
we understood. “No one can take this from him and not expect a fight. Like it
or not, he’s ruled by his heart whether you guys wanna believe that or not.
While my son is practical to a point, he’s impulsive but that’s Jameson. Deal
with or don’t. I don’t really care.”
I loved
that my dad stuck up for me and more importantly that he spoke the truth.
Something the media knew nothing about. My family, the people I surrounded
myself with, when the bell rang, they were ready and willing to stick up for me
and fight for what they believed was true.
Much of
this debate between Paul and me resulted in a few meetings with me and my dad,
mostly because he was searching for another driver for next season.
After the
team meeting Tuesday morning, following that Bristol race, Dad, much like my
grandpa Casten, kept his praising to a minimum. When they did offer it, you had
better take it to heart.
I can’t
say he was thrilled about it but these days, he wasn’t making a lot of sense to
me when he replied with: “Don’t waste it Jameson. You’ve got more talent than I
ever had. I mean that.”
I tend to
think he was still on pain meds from the hip surgery. There was no way he’d say
that lucidly.
I was
annoyed when dad left for his bingo game, I’m sure he wasn’t playing bingo
these days but what else would he do if he wasn’t racing? All the boys at the
shop joked that he played bingo.
After
Bristol we also did another inventory. Mulling over the latest results, I
noticed
Being my
teammate now, I sat him down and told him this would stop happening. Did I
mention I was part owner of Riley-Simplex Racing now? So yeah, this would stop
happening if Paul wanted to keep his spot on the team. Screw his five-year
contract. I would find a way out of it.
“You know
that I own part of this team, right?” I said to him after a team meeting at the
shop in Mooresville when he told me I had an attitude.
He smiled
reaching for the door but kept his eyes on me.
“I don’t
say that to be cocky, but, well, if you want to continue with this team shit
needs to change.”
Again, he
smiled. Here’s something most fans don’t know. When another racer spouts off
after a race that he will be getting another driver back for his on track
aggression, this is usually false representation. If he says nothing, expect
the payback when you least expect it.
Paul being
as hungry as the next driver, and on a 56-race losing streak, didn’t feel too
threatened by my response and tried his “cutting down” trick again in Bristol.
One thing
I had learned about Bristol over the years that most hadn’t figured out was the
track. It was as if Bristol was my own personal playground so to speak. I knew
every corner and every crack on that surface. I could set the fastest lap
without trying and could win on any given night with a fifth place car if
needed. So, when Paul came down on me entering turn two at the night race
there, he had a rude awakening.
I checked
up, let him come down and then passed him on the high side, roosting the marbles as I drifted into turn three to take the win.
He smashed
so hard into the inside concrete wall he had to be taken to a nearby hospital
because they thought he did some damage to his head.
Did he
ever pull that move on me again? No.
Would he
be searching for another job next season?
Without a doubt.
In my
mind, if you couldn’t respect your own teammates, you had no reason to be out
there. Even back in my rookie season, I also respected, and still do, my
teammates. Hell, I respected every driver out there until they gave me a reason
not to. Paul gave me a reason. I like to think that most understood where I was
coming from with Paul but most didn’t. My dad did, for the most part. It was a
constant question debated with the media and one interview with my dad had a
lot of impact on the situation.
“That’s
Jameson,” he told the media after Bristol. He spoke slowly and with a passion
we understood. “No one can take this from him and not expect a fight. Like it
or not, he’s ruled by his heart whether you guys wanna believe that or not.
While my son is practical to a point, he’s impulsive but that’s Jameson. Deal
with or don’t. I don’t really care.”
I loved
that my dad stuck up for me and more importantly that he spoke the truth.
Something the media knew nothing about. My family, the people I surrounded
myself with, when the bell rang, they were ready and willing to stick up for me
and fight for what they believed was true.
Much of
this debate between Paul and me resulted in a few meetings with me and my dad,
mostly because he was searching for another driver for next season.
After the
team meeting Tuesday morning, following that Bristol race, Dad, much like my
grandpa Casten, kept his praising to a minimum. When they did offer it, you had
better take it to heart.
I can’t
say he was thrilled about it but these days, he wasn’t making a lot of sense to
me when he replied with: “Don’t waste it Jameson. You’ve got more talent than I
ever had. I mean that.”
I tend to
think he was still on pain meds from the hip surgery. There was no way he’d say
that lucidly.
I was
annoyed when dad left for his bingo game, I’m sure he wasn’t playing bingo
these days but what else would he do if he wasn’t racing? All the boys at the
shop joked that he played bingo.
After
Bristol we also did another inventory. Mulling over the latest results, I
noticed
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