Politics once again puts NASCAR fans center stage

In the 2004 election, a new voting demographic emerged, or at least was named for the first time. "NASCAR dads" were a coveted contingent by both Al Gore and George Bush. They will figure into this year's election, as well, as was foreshadowed by concurrent trips by John McCain and Barack Obama to Virginia, where the NASCAR dad is a beloved state treasure.

NASCAR dads are thought to be white, middle-aged, working-class Southern men, for whom weekends are devoted entirely to kneeling in the great oval chapels of Bristol, Talladega, Daytona and Indianapolis. The NASCAR race -- or as my dad calls it, the "Hubcaps Make Great Windchimes 500," a real betrayal to his Kentucky upbringing -- is where these voters galvanize amidst insider talk of pistons and chassis, drafting and weight jacking, restrictor plates and the HANS device. It's often assumed, thus, that NASCAR fans vote overwhelmingly Republican. NASCAR itself is often stereotyped as a Republican sport, and one that somehow gives its imprimatur to the GOP.

The perception is somewhat understandable. Joe Gibbs, a seasoned NASCAR team owner, spoke at the 2008 Republican National Convention. Many of its top drivers are in fact conservative Republicans. Other cultural commodities often associated with Republican politics -- like country music and patriotic flyovers -- figure into many NASCAR races, and may help to cement the caricature.

But just how reliable or predictable is this group of voters? And how appropriately are they named? Just after John McCain took in the Sylvania 300 at New Hampshire recently, it seems as though NASCAR dads deserve another look.

NASCAR's fan base, first and foremost, is massive. With more than 70 million fans, it is second in U.S. popularity only to the NFL, and therefore hard to sum up in political, demographic, or any other kind of terms, really.

Its fans vote 35 percent Republican and 28 percent Democratic -- a separation of only 7 percentage points, hardly a convincing argument for NASCAR's political leanings.

Furthermore, the average NASCAR fan is more affluent and more likely to have children who are under 18 than the average American. Women make up 40 percent of NASCAR's fan base, and minorities account for 20 percent, making it the fastest-growing major sport among minorities. And NASCAR reaches every corner of the U.S., with races past or present in or near Chicago, Detroit, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Kansas City, Phoenix, and Boston. Tissot -- a high-end Swiss watchmaker -- is the sport's official timekeeper. It holds its annual awards banquet in, of all places, Manhattan, at the tony Waldorf-Astoria.

S.E. Cupp

And NASCAR's increasing popularity among A-list (and largely liberal) celebrities also helps to prove that the NASCAR dad voting contingent may need another name. Ben Affleck, Kiefer Sutherland, Evander Holyfield, Tony Hawk, Jessica Simpson, Matthew McConaughey, and countless other Hollywood types are known fans. Gavin DeGraw, Melissa Etheridge and Kelly Clarkson are just a few of the live acts who have opened races.

Maybe it's not that NASCAR dads should be renamed, but that the description of them should be expanded to more accurately represent the sport's wild and wide popularity, which isn't limited to a certain economic, social or geographic group.

And NASCAR fans aren't the only interest group that's been subjected to political scrutiny. In 1996, white, suburban, minivan-driving, bulk-buying moms all around the country finally got some time in the spotlight. It was, at long last, the year of the "soccer mom." All hailed the queens of Bactine. They carried a plastic bag of Cheerios in one hand and magic markers in the other.

In fact, 1996 was so good to the soccer mom, that that term was voted Word of the Year by the American Dialect Society. And they worked hard for the distinction. Soccer moms helped put Bill Clinton in the White House, electing him 53 to 39 over Bob Dole.

NASCAR dads and soccer moms. Over the next month and a half, another group of sports enthusiasts will be watched and wooed, and in part because of Sarah Palin, they, too, now have a name: hockey moms. Thanks to her now-famous joke, we already know they're supposed to be as tough as pit bulls, but only time will tell if they'll help elect an elephant or a donkey in November.

S.E. Cupp is author of "Why You're Wrong About the Right," (Simon & Schuster) with Brett Joshpe. She lives in New York City.

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