It seemed like such a simple question. David Reutimann had just streaked under the checkered flag at Chicagoland Speedway, stripped an annoying asterisk off his chest and took center stage in a proper emotional Victory Lane celebration.

His No. 00 Toyota was wet again, but this time it wasn't from rain, but from a combination of Coca-Cola, champagne and tears.

"So, what does this mean to David Reutimann and Michael Waltrip Racing," a reporter asked.

That question has been ringing in my ears for days. It makes you wonder ... what really is the impact of such a definitive win for an emerging organization, a maturing race car driver and the sport itself?

As for David, there were weekends in which he slept in his pickup truck, wrote checks for racing tires that couldn't be cashed until he picked up his sparse winnings at the pay window and several weeks he didn't know how he was going to make his house payment. And that was when he was 30.

Since the first moment I met David, I sensed the fear of returning to those days had become his shadow, the boogie man under the bed. It seemed as if he has always wondered if he belonged, if he was secure, if he was worthy.

When we jokingly started calling him The Franchise last year, he played along. When his name was replaced on the race car with the word "Franchise," he had an ill reaction. He didn't want the attention and most certainly didn't want people to think he was conceited and had it removed.

For Reutimann, a win of this caliber is confirmation. When champions, competitors, his heroes and the president of NASCAR speak so sincerely about the popularity of the win, it is life-altering. David's career, his family and his demons are now secure.

For Michael Waltrip -- who invested a career into this organization -- the impact is enormous. Waltrip's legacy as a driver is securely in the record books. What history will say about him as an owner is just starting to be written. And wins are the only real statistics recorded.

For people like EVP of Operations Cal Wells, who had to see his own team shut down at the conclusion of the 2006 season, a proper Cup win is validation and in some ways a continuation of his initial vision when he entered NASCAR from open-wheel racing. A driving force behind operational controls, procedures and an engineering-centric team, Wells can beam with pride once again.

For MWR, the impact is something priceless -- street cred. To build a long-standing successful race team, credibility is the key and it is found in one place -- Victory Lane. When you live inside the gates of the racing community, there is no more precious commodity among sponsors, drivers, crew members and the sanctioning body than credibility.

Perhaps the neatest part about walking into the headquarters Monday morning after Chicagoland was there was no ticker-tape parade, just a lot of smiling employees going right back to work. The sense from the floor was simple -- our work is not done. This is only the beginning.

With that attitude, now only time and more champagne-drenched uniforms will clearly define the impact of such a special night.

Ty Norris is vice president and general manager of Michael Waltrip Racing. He has worked within the NASCAR industry with MWR, Speedway Motorsports Inc., Dale Earnhardt Inc. and RJ Reynolds since 1990. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.