Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Days of Chunder

Mark Martin
The Daytona 500 isn't until Sunday, but that hasn't stopped a cyclone of cameras from already forming over parts of Florida. Yes, somewhere in Volusia County, the motoratti is hunched around a middle aged man in a butter-bean green jumpsuit, scribbling intently as he holds forth on his latest spit-cup endorsement. Could I make that up? Sure, but it wouldn't compare to the rarefied air inside the marketing and media maelstrom that is NASCAR's biggest race. But don't take my word for it, though. Ask Weaver. For the better part of a week, Mr. "Call the Law" himself has been prowling the grounds in a souped-up sat truck, high-fiving drivers and fans alike as he and a couple of Kevins crank out a steady stream of racing reportage. But what self-respecting media blitz would be complete without a torrent of social media? None that we'd be a part of, which is why at this very moment Weaver is most probably yammering into his Droid about the racing stripes on Clint Boyer's tube socks. Hey look, I just dropped the name of a Nascar driver I couldn't pick out of a line-up! Maybe I'm becoming a racing fan after all, maybe I'm discovering the bleary-eyed gear-head within, or maybe it's just because Weaver's many tweets come directly to my phone...

Yeah, that's GOTTA be it.

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