In NASCAR, reality is that only the present matters (cont'd)

Gordon and Busch are the lucky ones -- they've accomplished so much in their respective careers, that, like Burton, they'll receive another chance to become relevant once again. Not everyone does. Some people get chewed up by a machine that moves along just as fast as the racecars do on Sundays. Remember Danny O'Quinn? Kid was rookie of the year in what was called the Busch Series in 2006, when he ran a full season for Roush. Showed some potential, with five top-10s. But then the sponsorship went away, and before long, the driver was cut loose, too. Last weekend at Lowe's Motor Speedway, O'Quinn made just his second Nationwide start of the season, in a Team Rensi car that finished 40th with an electrical problem.

There are a million guys like that, drivers who get fired or lose their job for sponsorship reasons. Some continue to float around, working the garages, picking up rides when they can. Some go race in smaller series like USAC or Pro Cup. Some go to work as fabricators or crewmen, putting the dream on indefinite hold. Some disappear altogether. Just look at Casey Atwood, who as an 18-year-old in 1999 was the youngest winner in Busch Series history. He landed the big Cup job with Ray Evernham and drew comparisons to Gordon. But he struggled, was shuffled down the ladder, and has made only three Nationwide starts this season. Just look at Shane Huffman, who was one of the most successful drivers in Pro Cup history, caught on with JR Motorsports, got released, and worked this season as a car chief. Even guys with Cup victories aren't immune. Just look at Jeremy Mayfield, who has five career wins and two Chase berths, who at 39 is younger than several drivers filling seats these days, and who is still waiting for the phone to ring.

It can happen to anyone. Remember Doug Richert? He was an architect of Greg Biffle's rise to prominence on the Cup circuit, a crew chief who had won a title as a 20-year-old with Dale Earnhardt in 1980. He was shuffled around at Roush, took a few jobs that didn't work out, and now is calling the shots for Mike Skinner's Craftsman Truck Series entry. Remember Matt Borland? He was the whiz kid crew chief of the early 2000s, the one who helped turn Ryan Newman into Rocketman. But then he left citing a desire to get off the road, and then he was back at the racetrack as director of competition at Haas CNC Racing, and now nobody knows whether he'll be retained or let go by new team owner Tony Stewart.

No one is safe. One season, Robert Yates has a team capable of winning races and contending for championships. Another year, he's lost his sponsors and is just trying to stay competitive. Bill Davis goes from winning the Daytona 500 to the brink of obsolescence, all within a span of six years. Want a safety net? Go work in the circus. The risk and danger associated with this sport aren't limited to the racetrack. People can be marginalized, dismissed or forgotten faster than it takes a car at Bristol Motor Speedway to make a qualifying lap. Busch wins eight races and is an afterthought. Gordon nearly wins the title and is under siege. O'Quinn wins rookie of the year in NASCAR's No. 2 series and is swallowed by the cracks.

What's that they say about the stock market -- past performance has no bearing on future returns? That's NASCAR for you. This is a sport where jobless drivers and crew chiefs still show up at the racetrack week after week, shaking hands and making conversation, just so no one forgets about them. This is a sport where everything can change in two or three years. This is a sport where going from high to low is a brutal reality. The only solace is that people can climb back up just as quickly. That is, if someone gives them the chance.

The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.