Searching for line between greatness and Hall of Fame

The first class is in, the first induction ceremony completed, the first commemorative spires installed in the Hall of Honor. The NASCAR Hall of Fame could not have asked for a better opening weekend, with speeches that magnified the familial ties that bind this sport so tightly, moments that so clearly illustrated why racing is so often passed down from father to son. This past Sunday afternoon was NASCAR at its absolute best, a day overflowing with emotion even though the festivities were far removed form roaring cars and champagne sprayed in Victory Lane.

• Content archive
• Special Coverage

That's what it's all about, really -- a triumphant recognition of five men who left indelible marks on NASCAR, an overdue industry-wide thank you to the King, the Intimidator, the original Junior, Big Bill and Bill Jr. Oh, sure, there was some squabbling back when the voting took place months ago, some arguments over letting both Frances in and leaving David Pearson out. But in all honestly, we're talking about people who are going to be inducted relatively soon, regardless. Any quibbles are over timing. This really is the easy part, the rubber-stamping of legends whose inclusion is automatic. The difficult part comes years from now, when voters have to draw that fine line between what makes someone a Hall of Famer, and what makes someone merely great.

It's there already, waiting to be unearthed, and it's going to make that Pearson vs. Bill France Jr. argument look like a dispute over seating arrangements. In baseball it's personified by a player like Dale Murphy, a two-time MVP who hit 398 home runs and yet still falls well short of the vote total required for entry into Cooperstown. In football it's someone like Cris Carter, who finished his career second in total pass receptions, and yet remains shut out of Canton. One day those men will have their NASCAR parallel, in the form of a driver whose greatness has never been questioned, and yet simply didn't do enough in the eyes of Hall of Fame voters to be enshrined as an immortal.

It's a difficult position, but it comes with the territory, and it's the purpose of a Hall of Fame to separate an elite few from the best. Still, that dividing line is going to be a living, breathing person for whom induction into the Hall of Fame would be a career-defining achievement. Who might it be? Here are a few test cases:

1. Ricky Rudd. Perhaps the toughest hombre ever to drive in NASCAR, Rudd won 23 races and made a record 788 consecutive starts. His toughness is legendary, best summed up in the all-true story of him taping his swollen eyelids open so he could race in the 1984 Daytona 500. He finished second in points in 1991, and was a title contender even in the final years of his full-time career. In 1998, Rudd was named one of NASCAR's 50 greatest drivers, a compendium that's sure to become a thorn to Hall of Fame voters.

And yet, with no championship, is Rudd a Hall of Famer? Are voters obliged to consider intangibles like his longevity and his perseverance in addition to his on-track results? If Rudd gets in, does that mean anyone with 23 or more race wins -- right now, there are 26 such drivers -- gets in, regardless of whether or not they won a championship? A yes vote on Rudd could open the door for a number of current drivers such as Kyle Busch, Carl Edwards and Jeff Burton, who own race victory totals in the low 20s or high teens but are without a title in NASCAR's premier division.

2. Geoffrey Bodine. The eldest of the Bodine brothers has been a fixture in racing since the early 1970s, when he began his torrid run through the NASCAR modified ranks. After he hit the big time, he won 18 Cup races, including the 1986 Daytona 500, and was named one of NASCAR's 50 greatest drivers -- oh, that list again -- two years later. Bodine never won a Cup championship, notching a best points finish of third in 1990, but showed a degree of versatility that made him a threat on any kind of track.

Still, with 18 victories and no title, does Bodine merit induction? Is his case bolstered by his stellar modified career, which included a record 55 race wins in the 1984 season alone? Right now, there are 41 drivers with at least 18 career victories on NASCAR's premier series, a group that includes the title-less likes of Neil Bonnett, Harry Gant, Davey Allison, Buddy Baker and Dale Earnhardt Jr. Like Bodine, Earnhardt and Baker also won Daytona 500s. If he gets in, shouldn't they as well?

3. Ron Hornaday. The veteran racer in the Camping World Truck Series has won four championships, and isn't done yet -- he's fourth in the standings after this past weekend's event at Charlotte. His 45 Truck victories are far and away the most in series history. Throw in his four wins on what's now known as the Nationwide tour, and Hornaday has more career victories than any national-series driver outside of the Cup level.

But Hornaday could likely be the index case for the thorniest debate among future Hall of Fame voters -- what to do with drivers who posted huge numbers on circuits clearly secondary to the Cup tour? Indeed, it's a NASCAR Hall of Fame, not a Cup Hall of Fame. Does that mean Hornaday's four titles are equivalent to Jimmie Johnson's four titles, even though Hornaday recorded only one top-10 in 45 Cup starts? Does Jack Ingram get in on the strength of 31 race victories and two titles on the former Busch Series? Does Richie Evans, the king of the modifieds, earn entry despite the fact that he never made a Cup start?

Those are all difficult, difficult questions, and ones that likely the next generation of NASCAR Hall of Fame voters will be forced to try and answer. Today's voters have enough of a chore wading through the backlog of legends, from the obvious to the obscure, and deciding who gets in first. With only five inductees each year, that job alone will take the better part of a decade. Then it will be time to consider men like Rudd, Bodine and Hornaday, and many others like them. And then the Hall of Fame debates will truly begin.

The opinions expressed are those solely of the writer.