Living the life of a pit crew -- one Reuben at a time

CHARLOTTE, N.C. -- There were two crossroads that led to my participation (and ultimately may have affected my performance) in Wednesday's Sprint Cup Celebrity-Media Pit Crew Challenge at Time Warner Cable Arena.

The first arrived a few days earlier in the form of an instant message from my esteemed boss, NASCAR.COM managing editor Duane Cross.

While others felt practice would be benefecial, Joe decided food would improve his performance.

"You have any interest in doing this?" he asked.

"Not really," was my nearly immediate reply.

Then I made the mistake of adding, "But maybe I could get a decent column out of it, probably poking fun at myself."

"Great idea. Do it," was the gist of Boss Man's response to that suggestion.

So I was in. There was no way to back out. The second crossroad came when I arrived at the arena itself. My Blackberry read 1:26 p.m. My stomach said it was lunchtime.

A friendly Sprint representative lurked around the guard shack and beckoned for me to come on in. The young lady said I didn't even have to go around to the media entrance like the others. My stomach still said it was lunchtime.

"What time does this event start again?" I asked.

"Well, there is a practice session with members of the Red Bull Racing pit crew that runs from 1:30 to 2 p.m. That starts in about four minutes," she replied.

"But the real competition doesn't start until like 2:05, right? That gives me time to grab a quick bite to eat, doesn't it?"

She nodded, and mumbled something about a pizza-and-sandwich place right around the corner. I was gone before I heard the rest.

Gassed up and ready to go

Thirty minutes and one Reuben later -- light on the Thousand Island to reduce the risk of having it come back up -- I was back at the arena with nearly 10 minutes to spare. Who needs practice, right?

I was hoping it would not turn out to be problematic that the "half Reuben" actually turned out to be a stout nine-inch submarine sandwich.

This was where the rigorous training program begun one day earlier at the YMCA would kick in. (The one where I felt pretty good about my effort until I noticed the woman working out next to me on the same type of machine was about seven months pregnant and more than keeping up).

Nervous? You bet. I didn't want to totally embarrass myself. Although I wasn't sure of the competition, I was pretty sure most of them hadn't been balancing their workouts with semi-regular guzzling of beer for the last 30 years. What can I say? Back when I turned 18, it was perfectly legal.

As Danielle Trotta shines, the effects of the sandwich are starting to kick in with Joe.

Upon arrival, I learned my assignment would be right-rear tire carrier -- working on the local WBTV team captained by long-time acquaintance and sports anchor Delano Little and side-by-side with the lovely Danielle Trotta, who immediately took on the air of someone who knew what she was doing with the power tool in her gloved hands.

Across the way, I noticed Michael Waltrip readying himself for ... what? He was going to be a front-tire carrier for the SPEED TV team and was in the first heat.

"You nervous?" I shouted across.

"Yep," he nodded. "I'm used to being in the driver's seat. Not doing this."

I noted Waltrip wasn't the only driver participating. Also on the stacked SPEED team was Brian Vickers, and across the way in Heat 1 was a team that included Kasey Kahne as a tire changer.

Suddenly, they were off. Or at least the team fueled by Waltrip-Vickers was. They left Kahne and Co. in their pit stall dust as each team jacked a car, changed out the required two tires, pumped in two cans of gas, and then ran to and pushed another car 40 yards across the finish line.

We were next up in Heat 2.

Trotta looked at me with a hint of disgust at first, perhaps because I had skipped practice ... perhaps because I had a hint of sauerkraut lurking in my breath. But then she professed to have confidence that I could do the job, advising me to "stay low" with the 65-pound tire "and slam it in."

I wish I could say I did. But I didn't. I fumbled the first try -- and by the time I finished my required duty and attempted to run back to push the car, the rest of the team already had advanced it two-thirds of the way toward the finish line, leaving me hopelessly and uselessly behind. Still, our time of 24.509 seconds was not that far off the time of 23.144 posted earlier by Waltrip-Vickers.

And it was way better than the time of 31.646 registered by Kahne's crew.

"Hey, it's not easy. Your heart rate really goes up instantly," said Kahne, who like Vickers said Wednesday marked the first time he had actually played tire changer. "It's a tough job."

Paying the price

Agreed. I thought my day was done, my lesson learned.

Then I learned instead that our time was good enough to earn us a spot in the semi-finals. Now I was getting into it, and determined to do better -- which I did.

This time I got the tire in place quickly enough that I was able to actually lend a hand (I may have only gotten one on the rear bumper) in pushing the car across the finish line. And our time, amazingly, was good enough to place us in the finals against the dreaded Waltrip-Vickers combo.

By now I was feeling it, and not the effects of the Reuben, either. I felt like we could actually win this thing.

Alas, I went in low -- and slow -- with the tire. Then I couldn't get it mounted right. Precious seconds were lost.

Our tire was the last to get mounted and as our car crossed the finish line, the results became all too official.

For Waltrip-Vickers, a time of 20.512 seconds.

For the lovable underdogs from WBTV, NASCAR.COM and points beyond (we also had a regular from Red Bull and some guy from a local radio station who went by the name of White Shadow), a time of 20.565 seconds.

Michael Waltrip and Brian Vickers celebrate their victory but don't plan on any career changes.

I felt terrible -- no, it wasn't indigestion -- and sought answers from Doug Newell, our ringer from the Red Bull team.

"You look at the times. That last round, we lost by half of a tenth of a second. Half a tenth of a second on race day might mean one or two cars beat you off pit road. That might be the difference between winning or losing a race," Newell said.

I had to know. Did I cost us the championship?

Newell tried to be nice.

"This was no championship here," he said. "We were just having fun, right?"

Right.

But what did Newell really know? After all, he was only a gas man. My kids have been calling me that for years.

I needed to talk to someone who could feel my pain -- someone who really knew what it was like to fill the role of right-rear tire carrier. I needed to talk to Mike Metcalf from Red Bull.

"The key is consistency, doing it the same every time," said Metcalf, who has performed the task for both the No. 82 car driven by Scott Speed and the No. 83 driven by the reviled (at least on this day) Vickers. "A lot of it is just knowing where your tire changer is. It's just teamwork. One (pit-crew position) is not more important than the other, but you've got to work together. That's something you might want to do next time -- maybe go through a round or two on the side and get to know your tire changer better."

Wow. Even he knew about the Reuben-over-practice decision?

"You mean I should have chosen practice over a sub beforehand?" I asked.

"Maybe so. Maybe lay off on the sub next year -- and that's less weight you've got to carry when you push the car, too," Metcalf added.

That's provided I can even get to the car. Or if I answer the boss's call next year.

The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.