NASCAR, glitzy Las Vegas were made for each other

LAS VEGAS -- Sitting in snarled traffic on the Las Vegas Strip, with towers of neon shimmering on either side of the eight-lane boulevard, you begin to think that Bruton Smith has it right. Maybe they really should move the NASCAR postseason banquet out here, and award a second Nextel Cup date to the 1.5-mile track rising out of the Nevada desert.

And while they're at it, bring along the all-star race. And move NASCAR headquarters. And stop building that hall of fame in Charlotte, and plop it down right in the middle of Fremont Street. Because no place on the planet better personifies NASCAR than this brash, bold, bright, beguiling city in the middle of nowhere.

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It's a natural marriage between a place and a series both built upon exposure and risk. The vivid, attention-grabbing lights along Las Vegas Boulevard perfectly complement the vivid, attention-grabbing sponsor logos on the hoods of the Nextel Cup cars. One features spectacular shows like Cirque du Soleil and Blue Man Group, the other spectacular sights like Paul Menard going airborne on a qualifying lap. Both include plenty of gambling -- two tires, or double-down on 11? -- and just enough danger to keep people coming back for more.

But it goes deeper than similarities and big crowds, like the 105,000 that showed up for Saturday's Busch race and the 160,000 expected for Sunday's sold-out UAW-DaimlerChrysler 400. Vegas embraces NASCAR on every level, doing more than almost any other city to help the sport put on races, gladly clearing a path for an economic dynamo that fills thousands upon thousands of hotel rooms each spring.

"They're very interested in things they can bring in to fill those rooms up. And they will go way out of their way, way more than any city I've ever seem, to help you out," said H.A. "Humpy" Wheeler, president of Speedway Motorsports Inc., the company that owns and operates Las Vegas Motor Speedway.

"It's impossible to tell someone what running a speedway is like. There are so many challenges, particularly municipal challenges. You've got water, fire, police, medical, all kinds of things that if you don't get cooperation, it makes it so much more difficult. And frankly, a lot of places may cooperate in one area, or they may not cooperate at all. This place here is so attuned to doing anything for people who bring events in, that it just goes across the board."

Both NASCAR and Las Vegas share a predilection for massive crowds, huge construction projects, choking traffic -- it took nearly two hours to get from the speedway to the Strip after qualifying Friday -- and plenty of bombast and bravado. Both display an uncanny ability to separate visitors from the cash in their wallets. And both dearly need each other.

NASCAR needs this western outpost where sellouts are routine and fervor is rampant, a desert oasis that stands less than three tantalizing hours from the sport's greatest enigma, California Speedway outside Los Angeles. And Las Vegas needs NASCAR, a big-time professional sport in a city that desperately wants to be considered major-league. Without NASCAR, Vegas is left with a little golf, a little tennis and a little boxing. The NBA All-Star Game isn't returning anytime soon.

Besides, a sport where so much emphasis is placed on entertainment value -- sometimes at the expense of more important things -- seems ready-made for the entertainment capital of the world. And Celine Dion doesn't exactly pack in 160,000 fans on a single Sunday afternoon.

"Here, if you've got a viable event, that's their industry. You're doing something they don't do. They don't put on events. They just have the place to bring people in. And they realize this is an island. It's 250 miles from anywhere. The first sign of civilization west is the San Bernardino Freeway, and south is Phoenix. They know people have to come in here," Wheeler said.

"It's just a warm feeling that you get, and it makes fans want to come, and it makes you want to do business here. I can tell you places that are exactly the opposite, but I won't name them. They just make it very difficult. Not just with our tracks, but overall. They don't appreciate what you're doing, because they're into something else."

But not in glitzy, gaudy Vegas, where the show is everything and NASCAR seems so at home. Series chairman Brian France should set up an office at the top of the Stratosphere, the 1,149-foot-tall tower that dominates the north end of the Strip. From there he could survey the entire glittering expanse of Las Vegas, the one big city in America where NASCAR never has trouble seeing its name in lights.

The opinions expressed are solely of the writer.