In NASCAR, reality is that only the present matters

Remember Kyle Busch?

Guy won eight Sprint Cup races, more than any other driver this year. Led the series points for 17 consecutive weeks. Was featured in national magazines as the man to beat for the Chase title. Has had as good a season as anyone in NASCAR, with 20 victories in the sport's three top series combined. And he's been all but forgotten, thanks to three consecutive weeks of mechanical problems that derailed his championship hopes, and turned him into just another bystander watching Jimmie Johnson march to a third consecutive crown. For a while, there was a chance that the driver who had dominated the first two-thirds of this season wouldn't even be one of 10 invited to the year-end awards ceremony in New York.

"We're just trying to go as high as we can go," Busch said. "If there's a shot to get to fifth or a shot to get to third, that's all fine. We just try to do every week what we've done all year long, and finish up front."

NASCAR can do that to you. Perhaps no other sport is as unforgiving as this one, which is capable of demoting a competitor from headliner to afterthought in a heartbeat. For Busch, all it took was a busted suspension joint, a leaky engine seal, and poof -- suddenly he's gone from running for a championship to running around in circles.

Remember Jeff Gordon? Cat had one of the best seasons in modern NASCAR history last year, with 30 top-10 finishes. He's had one of the best careers ever, with four championships and 81 race wins. But what have you done for me lately? He's gone winless this season, and he's struggling to adapt to the new car on intermediate tracks. No matter that even in a mediocre year, he can still make the Chase and lead 359 laps. The achievements of last year might as well have happened a decade ago. People want his crew chief fired. They're wondering if having a baby has made him soft. They're whispering about whether the sport has passed him by.

It all makes Jeff Burton seethe. "If anybody believes that Jeff Gordon forgot how to drive, they've lost their mind. If anybody believes that Jeff Gordon still doesn't want to win, they've lost their mind. This thing about being successful is a whole lot more to do with the driver, the team, the whole deal working together than people give credit for," said Burton, who would know. People thought he was finished as a championship contender when he split from Roush Racing. Now he's been in the Chase three years in a row.

"I'd venture to say there's probably about 40 teams that would kill to have the kind of year he's had," Burton said. "They haven't had a terrible year, they just haven't been able to knock some wins off, which obviously is what we're here to do. Jeff Gordon hasn't forgot how to win races, he hasn't forgot how to race. A lot of people are [saying], 'Well, he had a kid.' It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life. You had a kid and you don't care anymore? Do you think if you have a kid you just wake up one morning and say, 'Well, I don't care anymore. I've got a child, and I love my child, so I don't need a trophy anymore.' Competitive people don't work like that. That's why when George Foreman retired, he came back. It's why when Michael Jordan retired, he came back. It's because you have it in you. Jeff Gordon didn't wake up the day his baby was born and look at the baby and say, 'Well, my life is all changed now. I don't need to race anymore.' It doesn't work like that."

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.