Papis' passion a lesson for which all drivers can learn

The last time Max Papis chased his dream, the pursuit left him bitter and broken. In 1995 he wrote a check for $400,000, all the money he had, to secure a ride in Formula One. The Italian-born driver made only seven starts for a Dallara organization that itself did not survive the season, and the crushing disappointment from that experience can still be heard in his voice.

"They took my dream, they use it, they throw it away. That's the memory I have for Formula One: disrespect the dream of a young kid, the dream and the work that everybody did to take me all the way there," he said. As he tells the story, he makes a motion with one hand as if crumpling up a piece of paper and throwing it in the trash. His eyes get misty.

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Max Papis talks about finishing eighth at The Glen and the sacrifices that he and his family make for his Cup career.

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"For me, I have some friends there. I love them, especially some people in Formula One. But I didn't enjoy it at all the lack of respect for the human being. Here instead, that's why I fit a lot better, because I think I'm a good human being, and people accept me for that. There, they look first at your wallet, and after they look if you are a son of someone famous, I don't know. If you are not one of those, they give you a kick in the butt and they let you go."

"Here" is NASCAR, where Papis is making what he says is his last stand as a competitive driver, including this season's 18-race Sprint Cup schedule with Bob Germain, whose outfit won the Truck Series championship in 2006. It seems like a strange combination -- Papis, a lifelong road racer who won three events in the old Champ Car circuit, making an attempt at oval-dominated NASCAR at 39 years of age. But Papis is serious, serious enough to have relocated his family to North Carolina, serious enough to have worked as a test driver for Hendrick Motorsports, serious enough to chase the dream one more time and completely throw himself into what seems an outrageously long effort.

And then there are days like Monday, when Papis finished eighth in the rain-postponed event at Watkins Glen International to record the best result of his short NASCAR career. Yes, it was a road course and yes, he doesn't have a finish better than 18th on an oval (that at Talladega earlier this year). But for a driver with only 10 Sprint Cup starts on his resume, it was one of those little victories that validates the effort. His Toyota ran out of gas 300 feet after he crossed the finish line, but his enthusiasm kept going well into the late afternoon.

"This is what I want to do, and NASCAR is going to be the last thing I'm going to do in my career. You're not going to see me racing anything else, not seriously. Maybe go-karts, something like that. I am dedicating all my life and my family, too, is dedicating, making a lot of effort. Without my wife, Tatiana, my kids, I would never be able to do what I'm doing. I put them through a lot to help them to achieve my dreams," he said.

"A day like [Monday], I think it's a little special present coming that tells everybody sometimes David [beats] Goliath. We were so small, we came up with so much. It just made me remember that all the help, all the advice from my dad, all the people that helped me on the way here, they're all riding with me. When you are there and your arms are burning, you have 10 laps to go, you dig deep because this is your chance."

You have to admire the conviction. Papis doesn't have to do this -- with victories in open-wheel racing and the 24 Hours of Daytona, plus starts in the Indianapolis 500 and F1, his reputation is secure. And yet, here he is in NASCAR, quite obviously bleeding for the opportunity, relishing every little bit of progress. We've seen this before; Patrick Carpentier, Juan Montoya and Marcos Ambrose, like Papis former road-course drivers who came to NASCAR later in life, all showed similar levels of enthusiasm and appreciation when embarking upon their stock-car careers. It reminds me of something the fiery old priest at my parochial middle school used to say about converts, and the superior level of passion and fervor they often displayed compared to those born into the faith.

Now, that's not to say that current Sprint Cup stars don't burn to excel, or that they've had it easy. The idea that these guys all bought their way to the top is a complete canard. By now, we all know the stories -- about how Jimmie Johnson grew up in a mobile home, about how Carl Edwards' mother was a school-bus driver, about how Clint Bowyer and Matt Kenseth happened to be in the right place at the right time. There are very few drivers competing on NASCAR's premier series who haven't earned the right to be there. We've witnessed time and time again, from Tony Stewart getting in the car with a cracked shoulder blade to Jeff Gordon racing despite his painful back, how much these men are willing to sacrifice for their profession.

And yet, when you hear someone like Papis talk so passionately about what just the chance to make it in NASCAR means to him, you can't help but hope that no one with a full-time ride is taking their opportunity for granted. Anyone who's been in the garage area for a long enough period of time has heard whispers about certain drivers, usually young ones -- and no, we're not talking about Kyle Busch, who'd Velcro himself to a steering wheel if he had to -- who seem a little too caught up in the money and the girls and the lifestyle to meet the demands and obligations placed upon them. They've always had the raw talent to make up for whatever they've lacked in terms of desire or work ethic. Sprint Cup is a big deal, of course, but ultimately just another rung on an expected climb up the career ladder.

Not so with Papis, the kind of driver for whom NASCAR has always seemed unreachable. He's probably not supposed to be here, and deep down he probably knows it, but he wants to make it so badly he celebrates every little step. In the process, he's offering a lesson from which every driver in the garage can learn. This was never expected or ordained for him, and he may not make it in NASCAR. But he's clearly getting more enjoyment out of his experience than some drivers who have competed in the series for years.

Again, it's a stark contrast to his stint in F1.

"The difference is that here you cannot buy the results. You need to create it. The human being [and] the team are creating your success. [In F1] you can buy the results, because you can make a new front wing, you can make a new rear wing, do different stuff. Here, it's very much left up to the people. That's why I love it, because there is no excuse here. My guys messed up my car, my car is not fast this year. Tony Stewart has the same car I have. So there's no difference with that," he said.

"That's what I love about it. It brings the best out of it. At the same time, there is so much respect for the human being here. You guys need to be very proud of being here. I'm proud every day when I walk into this garage, because it's a special thing, it's very special to be able to be together with athletes like Carl Edwards, Jimmie Johnson, people that make 20 times more money than most of the people in Formula One, but they're more humble. That's my opinion. Maybe I've been a little too hard, but I always talk what I think."

His deal with Germain and sponsor Geico calls for 18 events this season, the next coming at Bristol. He'd like to do more, to pull himself away from the top-35 threshold and what he calls the "insane" pressure that goes along with just trying to make races each week. "That would definitely, I don't want to say make my life easier, but I could be a little more in the rhythm," said Papis, who's failed to qualify for three events this season, "and my team would be more accepted in a way." Whether that happens is yet to be seen.

But that's for later. Monday was about a baby step forward, about the unquestioned delight Papis takes in his quest, about the beaming smile worn by his wife as she sat in the media center and watched her husband speak to the press. Afterward, Papis swept his youngest son up into his arms, shook hands with what seemed like everyone in the room, and walked out into a hopeful but uncertain NASCAR future. Where will it lead him? Who knows. But he'll certainly enjoy the trip.

The opinions expressed are those solely of the writer.