Quick reminder: A reception to honour the life of the late Bob McAllister will be held tonight at the Musket Restaurant, 40 Advance Rd. (right off Kipling, four streets north of the Queensway).
A complementary buffet will be served at 7 p.m. Celebration to follow.
I’ll be there (here’s a link to a story I wrote when Bob died) and I hope you will be too.
It will be a gathering of the clan and there will be a million stories.
Moving right along, NASCAR is back in action at Phoenix this weekend — my favourite NASCAR speedway in a great part of the world (particularly in winter) and it really would be nice if INDYCAR could somehow find a way to get back there.
Two things: 1, it’s highly unlikely that we’ll see any of the doggy-style racing
we saw at Daytona last weekend and 2, we’ll get to see what Trevor Bayne is really made of. It’s possible that this young guy is the Real Deal. On the other hand, his victory at Daytona could have been just one of those things.
Something I hope we don’t see at Phoenix (or anyplace else again, for that matter) is all that palsy-walsy-ing between the drivers that went on at Daytona.
Everybody in the 500 had everybody else’s radio frequency. Everybody was everybody else’s friend.
“Hi Kyle . . . this is Kurt . . . want me to push for awhile? . . . or would you like me to push you? . . . we could go to the front together . . .pretty please?”
Dale Earnhardt, who was dead 10 years as of last weekend, rolled over in his grave. Guaranteed.
Dale Earnhardt would drive up behind someone he was racing against for money and glory and he would say OUTTA MY WAY.
Now they say, “Hi Kurt . . . mind if I pass?”
How can any of those guys ever get out of a car again and shake his or her fist at another driver because of something that happened on-track?
Because two weeks later, they might need each other. . .
“Hi Jimmie . . . this is Kyle . . . how’s the baby? . . . Can I go by? . . .”
NASCAR racing is showing signs of becoming the NBA, which is now officially a fraternity of rich guys who give each other hugs before the games start.
Sheesh. Give me Jay Rosehill and P.K. Subban any day.
Talking about rich guys, and rich series, the Williams F1 team is reviewing the price it wants to charge for shares in the team.
Seems the stock market where the shares will be sold thinks the price is too high and won’t attract buyers.
Read more in today’s Daily Telegraph.
P.S. There’s a chapter floating around from that new book on Bernie Ecclestone that I wrote about yesterday (see post below, if you’re interested). It’s about his marriage to Slavika. It illustrates perfectly that even if you have all the money and just about all the power in the world, you can still be led around by the nose at home.
You read that chapter and you almost feel sorry for the guy.