Racing to the Finish

by Dale Earnhardt Jr

  Don’t misunderstand me here. I wasn’t just riding around the racetrack super slow and scared to death all the time. That racecar demands nothing less than full attention. It doesn’t care if you have the flu or if your daddy died the weekend before. Big-ticket life events, stuff that happens to us all, they get lost inside that racecar. They have to. I ran 9,747 laps during the 2017 season, and during the vast majority of them I wasn’t thinking about my head or how I felt or worrying about crashing. But when I woke up on the Sunday morning of a race, I was thinking about it, going through my wakeup checklist of, Is this working right? Is that working right? Am I good to go today? And if there was a crash on the track during a race, even if I wasn’t in it, I was thinking about it.

  In the grand scheme of things, that’s not much. But it was too much. It certainly compromised the promise that I’d made to myself after I’d lifted my foot out of the gas at Talladega in 2014. Greg and those guys, they deserved someone in their racecar who didn’t bring with them all those worries and concerns. They deserved someone who was worried about that racecar and nothing else. Someone like Alex Bowman.

  We had just returned home from the fifth race of the season after having the kind of day that we had a lot of during 2017, finishing sixteenth at California Speedway after qualifying eighteenth and leading no laps.

  I called Rick and told him that I wanted to meet with him, one-on-one with no one else in the room.

  Wednesday, March 29, 2017

  Hendrick Motorsports, Harrisburg, North Carolina

  When we sat down in Rick’s office, it was almost seven months after our talk in his motorcoach at Daytona. This time, there was no yelling or confusion. There were also no surprises. Rick says now that when I’d told him I wanted to get together, he instantly knew the reason that I wanted to talk. And he was right.

  I told him that I was ready to retire from being a racecar driver.

  We talked for an hour and a half. I cried a lot, and so did he. I told him that it was important to me that I honored the contract we had signed and finish out the season. He told me how much I had impressed him with my fight to come back and finish what we had started together a decade earlier. “I was so shocked he came back in 2017,” Rick says now. “If it had been me, I don’t think I could have done it. I know I couldn’t have.”

  We did talk some business, about Rick’s stake in JR Motorsports, the future of my team and Alex, and how we would go about handling the breaking of this news to our sponsors. But mostly we looked back over our time together. We talked about my dad. We talked about the decision I’d made in 2007 to leave Dale Earnhardt Inc. and join Hendrick Motorsports and how it had fulfilled the promise of our napkin “contract” when I was a kid. We talked about Ricky and how much we missed him. I thanked him for not giving up on me when I struggled so much during my first years with the team. To this day, deep down, I truly can’t believe he did that. We remembered some of our greatest moments together, the ones we would have never had if he’d given up on me during those early years.

  There were a lot of times during my recovery period when I really struggled with those closest to me not being able to separate our personal and business relationships, being able to look me in the eye and share with me their genuine feelings about what I should or shouldn’t do about my future. There were times when I struggled with that with Rick. And I know, being the incredible businessman that he is, Rick knew he could make a lot more money with me in the car for a few more years than he could make with me retired. But that day when he told me that the most important thing to him was that I be happy as a person, I knew that he meant it. As soon as he said that, I felt a whole new level of relief about my decision.

  For a month, we kept that decision a secret. We decided on Tuesday, April 25, as the day I would announce my retirement, onstage at Hendrick Motorsports. We waited that far off because there was a lot to do to get that day together. In the meantime, I think there were only three people who knew at Hendrick Motorsports: Rick, team president (and Rick’s son-in-law) Marshall Carlson, and Jesse Essex, who oversees the team’s communications and media relations. At JRM it was Kelley, Mike Davis, and Tony Mayhoff, who oversees our marketing and partnerships. That was it. I had a list of people I wanted to reach out to personally and so did Rick, mostly family and friends. We moved very quietly. There aren’t a lot of secrets in the NASCAR world, but somehow, this one never got out. It was so hush-hush that when Mike Davis and Jesse Essex had their first conversation to discuss the details of the announcement press conference, they spent the first few minutes just trying to figure out if the other one on the call actually knew what the announcement was going to be. Neither one wanted to be the guy who spilled the beans.

  I have always had such a great appreciation for all of the people who work so hard just to take care of me and make sure I am where I’m supposed to be and do what I’m supposed to do when I get there. I’ve never been more appreciative of them than I was during this month. We all just went about our business at the track or at sponsor appearances and acted like everything was normal, even when it wasn’t.

  I don’t remember being particularly stressed out during that month, but it is worth noting that the day before my retirement press conference was also the first day that I took down any iPhone notes in eight months.

  Monday, April 24, 2017

  Bristol Motor Speedway

  The spring Bristol race was moved from Sunday to Monday because of weather. That compressed our schedule, but it also kept the media hounds off my case because they had to cover a race instead of wearing me out about the just-announced press conference. The weekend after my talk with Rick I had wrecked at Martinsville, but then bounced back to finish fifth at Texas Motor Speedway, my first top five of the season. Nearing the halfway point of the race we were running twentieth on a restart when my car just slid up the track and smacked the wall. We’d just had a pit stop and I noticed some smoke coming off the car. Turns out there was oil all over the place, including under my tires. With no grip, when I stood in the throttle to get going, it just took off and went wherever it wanted to go.

  April 24 Bristol (Monday race): Slap wall when oil got on tires. Feel headaches right away. Headache stayed all night and was there when I woke at 4 am Tuesday. No balance or vision issues. Although my reading vision seems a couple more inches farther out than normal. Main feeling is just some headache/pressure in temples and head. No problem with environmental changes. No attitude issues or sadness.

  I announce my retirement Tuesday so lots of emotions that are making any diagnosis difficult.

  That afternoon after I had returned from Bristol, we were on the phone with our sponsors to give them an official heads-up on Tuesday’s press conference. It was important to me that we talked to them and explained what was happening personally instead of just dropping a bomb on them Tuesday morning. Even if they had some idea of what was coming, I wanted them to hear it from me, even if it was what I was going to say to the world just a few hours later.

  When I woke up for good that morning, I gave myself a personal eye exam, and that checked out. I closed my eyes and rotated my head to see if that would trigger any dizziness. All good. I did my walk-the-line “sobriety” foot test. That was okay too. Finally, I tested my balance in a dark room. That checked out too. I put on a suit and tie, and we headed out for Hendrick Motorsports, with Amy driving so I could go over the speech that Mike Davis and I had prepared.

  Tuesday, April 25, 2017

  Hendrick Motorsports

  I met with my team that morning. They weren’t surprised. Even if anyone on the crew hadn’t known what I was about to announce in a few minutes over on the other side of the Hendrick Motorsports campus, they would have figured it out as soon as I walked in to address them in my suit and tie. I’m a T-shirt and ballcap guy. If I have on a suit and tie, then you know something is up.

  I would love to tell you that I gave the team some awesome speech, like something
out of a football or war movie. But I didn’t. I just let them know that the rumors they had heard were true and that I was indeed about to go announce that I was retiring. I thanked them for their dedication to me and for their patience with me during my recovery. I told them that I felt fine, that nothing had happened that forced me to make a rash decision. They knew me well enough to know that already.

  Then I promised the No. 88 team that they would be getting my 100 percent effort the remainder of the year and that, above all, we were going to have a good time. The part I had missed the most when I was out of the car in 2016 was them, and I wasn’t going to waste a second of that between now and our final race in November.

  I would also love to tell you that I was super nervous or super emotional before and during the retirement press conference itself. I wasn’t. I was really proud of my opening remarks, the ones that Mike and I had worked on together. Maybe I was a little worried about getting emotional when I got to the sections on my family and Amy, but even if I was, it didn’t happen. When we got to the Q&A part of the announcement, a couple of reporters did a little fishing for tears. They asked me if I had been emotional or sad, especially when I told my family members. But really, I hadn’t. The only time I had cried was during that meeting with Rick, and that had been a month ago.

  My overwhelming feeling that day? It was relief. Remember when I was keeping my head injury symptoms quiet for so long, but then felt so much better once I started sharing them with people, and Micky designed a plan? Having it out there and having a target to hit and to focus on—there was a huge sense of relief that came with that. I think this day was the same in a lot of ways. There would be no more speculation about when I was going to retire. It was out there, and we had a date on the calendar that I could circle and count down toward. My last Cup Series race would be at Homestead-Miami Speedway on November 19, 2017, and that was 208 days away.

  My favorite part of that day, even more than the moment I walked off the stage, was when I walked outside the building where we’d held the press conference. Next door is the Hendrick Motorsports Museum, and every weekday it has a steady flow of NASCAR fans moving through, taking pictures of old racecars and trophies, several of them being mine. As the word had gotten out that morning about our announcement, a much larger group of fans had gathered around the museum than you’d ever see on a typical Tuesday morning. They were dressed head to toe in Dale Earnhardt Jr. gear, and they were waiting on me. I signed autographs and chatted with them. I took my time. I wanted to make sure I paused to enjoy this. One fan yelled to me, “Dale, buddy, let’s make sure we enjoy this last ride together.” I smiled and responded, “That’s a deal, man.” I was talking to him, everyone around him, and all of Junior Nation.

  Wednesday, April 26th. No headache. No issues at all except feeling just slightly buzzed or hungover. Mentally slow. But otherwise zero issue. Later at work 10 am. Some headache when bending over. Wore prescription glasses till lunch and noticed some gaze stability issues while walking.

  Sinus cold from Easter still there a bit. Went for a bike ride after lunch and felt a ton better during and especially after that.

  There’s something that had certainly changed about me after my 2016 ordeal. I was becoming a cyclist. As I’ve told you, working out has never been my thing. But after everything that I’d had to do during my rehab, I learned the importance of being in good shape. I’ll always wonder if I might have recovered more quickly if I had taken better care of myself over the years. Well, I’m not running that risk again.

  I had watched Jimmie Johnson haul his bike all over the place and had seen all of his social media posts about his rides, how he would jump on his bike during race weekend, sometimes between morning and afternoon practice sessions. I thought he was nuts. Now I wanted to try it. When I talked to him about it, he was very excited. He even gave me one of his bikes. I’m not talking about a Schwinn you would have bought at Toys “R” Us. This is Tour de France stuff, gear worth thousands of dollars. Jimmie just gave it to me, and then he started inviting me on his weekend rides, giving me pointers to get me started, and helping me with any rookie questions, no matter how stupid. I think that’s all you need to know about the kind of man Jimmie Johnson is. He’s got every excuse in the world to be a cocky jerk, but instead he’s as generous a guy as you will ever meet. He wanted to help. He still does. I appreciate that so much.

  Thursday, April 27th: Still some headache. Takes a while in the morning to clear my head before I can tell something is not quite 100%. Flew to Ohio for Nationwide with Rick. Felt ok by the time we got on the plane by 9:30. Still have some sinus trouble that may be causing the headaches on flight. Vision seems a little better today, smoother.

  Friday, April 28th: Feel pretty good when woke up. Seemed all clear.

  I would love to tell you that I have a huge pile of memories and great stories to tell you from the 2017 season, as spring turned to summer and then fall. But the reality is that the year really kind of flew by. Amy always says we had “senioritis,” and that’s the perfect description. Once the announcement was out there, it really took a load off my shoulders. Off the track, I was working with Rick and Kelley to make sure our sponsor relationships were going to have the best chance possible to continue even when I was no longer driving the No. 88 car. That’s why you see that trip with Rick up to Nationwide headquarters in my notes. We also reached out to the racetracks remaining on the schedule and asked not to go too overboard with any farewell tour stuff, goofy gifts like rocking chairs and all of that. Instead, we encouraged them to find ways to support our charities through the Dale Jr. Foundation. Several of them were really creative and generous. That was very cool.

  On the track, we had a couple of disappointing runs immediately following the press conference, but we rolled into June with a pair of top-eleven finishes at Charlotte and Dover. As summer started, it was becoming pretty obvious that we weren’t going to be as competitive as we’d hoped. That wasn’t just a No. 88 car thing; it extended throughout Hendrick Motorsports. Jimmie, the defending Cup Series champ, won at Dover, his third win over the season’s first thirteen races. But he didn’t win again all year. Kasey Kahne, in his final season at HMS, won the Brickyard 400 in August, but wound up with only six top-ten finishes and left the team at year’s end. Chase Elliott was the most consistent of all of us, but he also went winless.

  It was also becoming obvious that my anxiety over my condition was always going to hang over my head. Though it certainly never reached the level of 2014–16, there were moments along the way when my over-busy mind was working overtime.

  June 7. Went to NBA Finals Game 3. All the noise and visual complexity ramped up my symptoms. Balance, and feeling awkward and disconnected. Dover race the weekend before was a very hard hit on my headrest and I felt like it shook my bell a little.

  June 11. Mistakes on two shifts at Pocono. I have no idea why that’s happening. It feels tied to my random feelings of dizzy/balance issues that happen sometimes. Turning around or any major motion of my head can upset my balance and understanding of level for a split second. This has been the case since I felt recovered.

  June 25. Sonoma Raceway. Concerned all weekend about using curbs and how that’s consistent with NFL linemen and constant pounding. Headaches Friday and Saturday. Saturday night there is nothing symptom wise going on. Just worry.

  September 16. Chicagoland. Nasty bumps on this track. Immediately gives me headaches in the car during practice. Headaches last all day and during sleep at night. Practice 1 on Friday gave me nausea and disconnected foggy feeling after running a couple laps. It clears up after 20 mins. Even when ride quality in the car is improved, my vision never has recovered enough to handle the jostling of the car going over the surface of the track.

  October 5. Charlotte. Practice crash. Right-sided the car exiting Turn 4. I notice my eyesight is affected. It’s blurred and harder to read at a distance. Focus on objects takes an extra second. Busy environments
are where visual issues are more apparent. My head had some aches. It’s a low constant ache around eye sockets and temples. No balance issues. No issues in dark spaces. Not really foggy but do feel a little trapped, buzzed, annoyed, and disconnected. Felt slow and groggy this morning. Hoping to clear up as the day goes. Feel pretty clear by 1:15. Feel awesome Saturday evening.

  Once you’ve experienced something like I did in 2016, even when you’re feeling great, there are no more normal days. Normal, as in, you don’t think about your body or your mind, and you just wake up, do your thing, and go to bed. Now, every little thing makes you pause and think, Now, what the heck was that?

  I have always had a bad memory when it comes to short-term stuff, especially to-do stuff. If Amy needs me to run to the store to pick up a couple of things, if I don’t write it down then I’m not going to remember it. That’s probably normal, especially for a guy who leans on his phone as much as I do. But when you’ve suffered a head injury you’re constantly questioning yourself. Why can’t I remember what Amy told me to pick up? Why can’t I remember where I put my car keys? Even if you know you couldn’t remember that stuff anyway, you still end up wondering, Dang, is this it? Is my mind about to go back downhill again?!

  Now, whenever I felt like that, I didn’t keep it to myself. I would tell Amy. And I would call Micky and tell him. They would both talk me off the ledge, and I would be okay. Then, a couple of weeks later, we might go through the whole thing again. It’s exhausting. But it isn’t as exhausting as it was when I tried to keep it all secret.

  You read all of that and you read those 2017 notes and you probably think, Man, he must have been terrible on the racetrack. But the second half of the season we actually improved quite a bit. I finished sixth at Sonoma and won the pole position at Daytona one week later, but that was really all there was to brag about during the summer. Once fall started is when we really picked it up. Starting October 1 at Dover, I finished twelfth or better in six of seven races. We scored half of our top-ten finishes for the season in October and November alone and won our second pole position of the year, in front of that Earnhardt-loving crowd at Talladega.