Rowdy infields of 'Dega's past no longer present (cont'd)

The group let out a deep belly laugh, shoved a Bud in my hand and ushered me off to the "VIP lounge" atop their old red, white and blue school bus. The exclusive spot was more or less a rusty platform with no seating, but the view was better than any posh suite I had sat in. Once I got my bearings, I looked out and realized I was only a stone's throw away from Turn 3 and the Cup cars qualifying for Sunday's race.

Just as I was about to leave, Phillip Winslett, 43, of Birmingham put his hand on my shoulder and said, "This is the nicest place in the whole world, you don't want anything when you're here and among friends."

And then he had to go have his brother, Justin Winslett, shave the No. 8 into the back of his head. See what I mean about the depths of a NASCAR fan.

Jimmy Kilgore knows what I'm talking about; he knows the psyche of a NASCAR fan as well as the Earnhardts know winning at Talladega.

He's chief deputy of the Talladega County Sheriff's Department and oversees the intense police presence -- 25 police agencies deep from all over Alabama -- you see today in and around the track.

That increased police presence Kilgore said is the reason why Talladega Superspeedway is shedding its rough reputation and has become a safer, more family-friendly environment.

"Over the course of time, we have seen some strides made in the behavior of the crowd and we have the resources and facility upgrades like more fencing that help us do our job better," Kilgore said inside the Talladega Superspeedway detention facility built for the abundant number of arrests usually made during the weekend. That and because the county jail is about 18 miles away.

For the Nextel Cup race Sunday, the crowd will be patrolled by an estimated 200 uniformed officers either mounted on horse, flying overhead in choppers, posted up in squad cars, peddling on bikes or infiltrating the crowds on foot. They will be everywhere.

"In the last few years, this large presence has served as a deterrent and has provided a sense of security for fans," he added. "When you used to have only 20 cops out here, things were a lot harder to manage."

Recent numbers are proof that the wings of the 'Dega crowd have been clipped.

"About 15 years ago we would make 150 to 200 arrests a weekend and now we usually make about 50 or 60," Kilgore said.

That's not to say the appetite for destruction and mayhem is gone.

You can still find bead-seeking ladies willing to bear their breasts and over-beveraged men looking for a fight. And there are still certain camping areas Kilgore advises against, but "Rome wasn't built in a day" he added.

"When you have the number of people converge on a small town like this, you're going to have minor problems that arrive ... we are a fun place man," Kilgore quipped.

I asked the seasoned vet with 27 years on the job if anything still surprises him.

"No, but about five years ago a guy was in the infield doing an adept job of directing traffic, I mean a good job. Only problem was, he wasn't an officer. He was in a women's Tweedy Bird bathing suit with a full neck of beads from Louisiana. We still laugh about that one."

Still looking for more proof of Dega's new, slightly refined character, I talked to one of the sports' most visible and loyal fans.

If there was ever a fan with celebrity status, it's Charles Dever. He's been featured in several national publications noted for his NASCAR affinity.

Dever, a 45-year-old businessman from Georgia, attends several races on the NASCAR circuit and has reached iconic status with his Wrangler-emblazoned school bus, Karaoke machine and crawfish boils. (Continued)