Rowdy infields of 'Dega's past no longer present

TALLADEGA, Ala. -- This weekend I had the privilege to view Talladega, with its storied past and colorful personalities, through virgin eyes.

But first I should tell you that I was warned, cautioned to "stay out of the infield, don't go out past dark and watch out for those 'Dega fans."

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Well if any of you know me personally, you could probably guess I met the admonition with defiance and set out to form my own opinion of the company this track keeps.

Admittedly, I'm a bit defensive of the NASCAR fan base, because their avidity and love of the sport shows no limit and continues to impress me. That said, I sought to disprove the stereotypes and dispel the bad rap 'Dega fans have acquired over the years.

With my tennis shoes tied tightly, notebook in hand, and Sweet Home Alabama playing in my head, I trotted out in search of candid discussions with various pockets of fans and officials in and outside of the Superspeedway tucked away in rural Talladega County.

Some of you may perceive my assignment as naive or just stupid. Me: I just don't believe in judging a book by its cover.

And the cover of my first stop was especially lively. Rich with NASCAR memorabilia, an old beat-up school bus name "Daleadega" and a beer cart with headers, Camp Site No. 725 was ripe with stories from a group of friends that had traveled to Talladega from all corners of the country.

Redden Knight, 40, has reveled in the down-home traditions of Talladega for 15 consecutive years. In the beginning, he sat front row to a show where open nudity (both male and female) and illegal drug activity were merely a part of the landscape.

Crowd control was such an issue; Knight recalls emergency vehicles having trouble responding to emergencies.

"Before now, anyone could come in and set up a tent wherever they wanted. It was chaos. At night, cars would drive right between or next to your tents," he said.

Today, the infield is organized. Reservations are required in advance and so is the cash.

And as for Dega being "dangerous" ...

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.

The welcome mat is always out at Dever's spot in the infield.

I walked onto his bus, which was covered in NASCAR pictures, plaques and posters; signatures from everyone famous and infamous who had been on the bus.

Athena Barber

Lanyards are "it" for women at track

NASCAR ladies are upping their fashion ante inside and around the track with beads this weekend at Talladega Superspeedway. Colorful beaded lanyards are becoming commonplace on the traditionally fashion-backward scene of NASCAR.

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Eager to join the lore, I scribbled a large NASCAR.COM on the ceiling and Dever told me about Talladega.

"Well first of all it hasn't been dangerous since about 1994 or 1995, but Mike Helton and NASCAR have done a lot to clean it up," he said. "But some areas they've gone overboard. Some things are still accepted here and it adds character. You're in the heart of NASCAR right now, right here in Talladega."

The changing tone of the infield doesn't bother Dever and if he drinks a few too many and can't recall where Junior qualified, that doesn't bother him either. Because Talladega is not about who wins the race.

"It's about getting to see your friend just one time that whole year ... one time at Talladega," said Dever with a look of sincerity that convinced me I was missing out on something here. "Me personally, I've made friends and memories and had conversations that can never be replaced."

For me, it was about soaking up the institutional knowledge of all the fans in the infield. Oh and learning to two-step with Dever.

His black-brimmed cowboy hat kept hitting me in the face and I kept stepping on his bare feet with my purple Nike Shox. The scene alone was a clear distinction between my world and his.

Nevertheless, my side hurt from laughing and we danced to a Tracy Lawrence song, If the World Had a Front Porch.

At the end of the ballad, he dipped me, looked into my wide eyes and asked, "Now was that so dangerous?"

Nope and I believe if the world did have a front porch, it would be full of NASCAR fans, NASCAR fans from Talladega.