DARLINGTON, S.C. -- At some point in their careers, they've all done it. They've all taken somebody out. They've all been taken out. The retaliatory tap that Carl Edwards delivered to Brad Keselowski is replicated dozens of times each week at every level of stock-car racing, from late models to NASCAR's premier series. It's as fundamental a part of slam-bang, closed-fender competition as scuffs on sheet metal or the long, black stripes that adorn Darlington Raceway's wall after every event.

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Guys, this is a tough sport. Everybody turns about the same speed, and you've got to protect your real estate. You can't let guys just run all over the top of you all the time.

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-- ELLIOTT SADLER

Some of them have found their way into lore, infamous moments that serve as a testament to a bare-knuckled sport. Dale Earnhardt rattling Terry Labonte's cage at Bristol. Jeremy Mayfield punting the Intimidator at Pocono. Brian Vickers driving through Jimmie Johnson to win at Talladega. Juan Montoya and Scott Pruett tangling in Mexico. Marcos Ambrose knocking Robby Gordon out of the way at Montreal. All of them are deliciously controversial incidents that stir the kind of emotion and passion NASCAR is famous for, and they aren't going away. As long as there are stock cars on a race track, at some point one will try to take another out.

That in mind, it's not all that surprising that Edwards got away with only a light slap on the wrist following his blatant punt of Keselowski late in last Sunday's event at Atlanta. Although Keselowski's car surprisingly and spectacularly flipped onto its roof, landing with a frightening thud that made you take a deep breath and hope the driver inside was OK, NASCAR's immediate response was only to place Edwards on probation. Taking the whole situation into account, the big loser was Keselowski, who endured a scary ride and had a chance at a strong finish ruined by an adversary who avoided any real repercussions at all.

And yet, strip away the controversy and the contempt and the image of that high-flying No. 12 car, and you essentially have one driver punting another -- something NASCAR has allowed, to one degree or another, for years. There was no punishment when Earnhardt took out Labonte in 1999 at Bristol, even though the move was every bit as intentional as the one that took place Sunday afternoon. When Keselowski and Denny Hamlin engaged in their on-track war late last season, there were only warnings and stern talking-tos. When Tony Stewart and Montoya went fender-to-fender at Homestead, there were no Tuesday afternoon penalties.

The reason underscores a fundamental difference between those incidents, and Edwards' punt of Keselowski at Atlanta. No, this isn't a matter of right and wrong. This is all about time and place. (Continued)