In the end, teammates are out only for themselves

The two most successful restrictor-plate drafting partners of the last few years have only a car manufacturer in common. They aren't current teammates, or former teammates, or future teammates. They aren't brothers or cousins or kids from the same hometown. But Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Tony Stewart have proven that when they get their clashing red and orange vehicles linked up nose-to-tail, they're capable of sailing straight to the front.

It has nothing to do with who signs their paychecks or what team logos are displayed on their firesuits. Stewart and Earnhardt have confidence in each other. They're comfortable being around one other on the racetrack. And when the shuffling begins in the closing laps of a race at Talladega or Daytona, and drivers inches apart from one another begin to jockey desperately for position, each has faith in the other's ability behind the wheel.

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Saturday night's Pepsi 400 should have been an eye-opener to anyone who still adheres to the myth that, at least on the track, NASCAR is a team sport. This isn't the Tour de France, where a cadre of riders is hired to run interference for one team leader who's set up to win. This isn't Formula One, where some organizations have a pecking order so obvious that drivers have slowed down on the final lap so the No. 1 guy can get to Victory Lane. In NASCAR, teammates help you get sponsorship. They appear next to you in commercials and promotional materials. They help you gather more information during testing, and improve your setups during practice.

But once on the asphalt for real, the survival instinct takes over, and any allegiances fade away. Which is why Jeff Gordon tried to overtake Hendrick Motorsports teammate Kyle Busch at Bristol, and tried to bump stablemate Jimmie Johnson out of the way at Martinsville. Which is why Joe Gibbs Racing teammates Stewart and Denny Hamlin crashed each other at Daytona. Which is why Busch didn't get the help he needed Saturday night as the field stormed toward the checkered flag.

What a coincidence -- the driver on the outs at Hendrick, the guy being moved to make room for Dale Jr., the kid on the verge of being banned from weekly competition meetings, can't find a push despite two teammates running a densely packed top 10. "I think bliss is over at Hendrick Motorsports for Kyle Busch," he said. "We'll get ready for 2008."

Maybe those blissful days -- if he ever truly found them at Hendrick -- really are over for the 22-year-old. But the reality is that no one has any allies at the end of a plate race. The reality is that Gordon and Johnson weren't really in a position to help push Busch across the line. And the reality is that a lot of top drivers tiptoe around Busch, who they find talented but somewhat unpredictable. No one denies his ability to win. But veteran drivers often prefer a more proven dance partner in thick traffic and with the race on the line.

It's not uncommon to hear spotters or crew chiefs issue a warning over team radio: "Watch out for the 5." It's not uncommon to hear other drivers question -- sometime in quite colorful language -- Busch's tactics on the racetrack. In March at Bristol, as the cars approached the final restart, a then-second place Gordon effectively cautioned his teammate over the radio: If I get alongside of you, don't wreck us. You wonder if the same notice would be sent out to Johnson.

But Saturday, none of that came into play. Lost in all the Hendrick hubbub was the fact that the big push that helped Busch charge into contention from the outside came not from a teammate, but from Roush Fenway driver Greg Biffle. Lost was the fact that Gordon was forced to push eventual winner Jamie McMurray because of the line he was in, and you can't just change lanes on a whim at 200 mph. Lost was the fact that, at the very end, any Hendrick driver who might have wanted to help Busch was two rows behind the leaders.

Besides, these guys don't ride around all day with the intention of helping someone else win. What were Johnson and Gordon supposed to do, be content with pushing Busch for the final four laps, and sacrifice any chance they might have had of winning themselves? Not a chance. This is nothing new; Saturday night was similar to another brush-up between teammates at Daytona, this one in 2002, when Earnhardt tried to pass Michael Waltrip at the end instead of just pushing him across the finish line.

There was a another such incident in 2004, when rather than link up with Waltrip in a Daytona 500 qualifying race, Earnhardt blew by him and went on to win. In 2003, the Richard Childress Racing lineup of Jeff Green, Robby Gordon and Kevin Harvick took heat for not working together as well as some thought they should. Rick Hendrick himself has plenty of experience in this area -- the team owner tells a story about having to separate former teammates Ricky Rudd and Ken Schrader after the two took each other out at Martinsville many years ago.

Jack Roush gets it. "It's every man for himself," said the co-owner of Roush Fenway Racing, which fields McMurray's car. "The only thing that I've told the guys, the only orders are that you should make an effort to be respectful and to not exacerbate somebody else's problem by causing him to wreck, except for the last corner of the last lap. Then all bets are off. They can do whatever they want."

So enough of this fantastical version of teammates, this fictional vision of philanthropic drivers working together for a greater good. The reality is a confederation of competitors with rival motives, linked only by a desire to win. Anyone in the way of that risks getting booted -- even if, technically, they're playing on the same team.

The opinions expressed are solely of the writer.