The fireworks on the track were just starting to give way to the fireworks above it, just beyond the lit torch of the iconic Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, a fitting backdrop to the spectacle that preceded it.
In many ways, the Busch Clash at the Coliseum sequel was every bit the presentation intended by the original.
There was a podium presentation with winner Martin Truex Jr. standing one step above the Richard Childress Racing duo of Austin Dillon and Kyle Busch. And you just know ‘Rowdy’ was beyond ecstatic to stand there forcing a smile while accepting an Olympics-style bronze medal — especially after being forced to drive through the field following an early spin to get there.
Above all, is there anyone in the history of motorsports who loves finishing second or third more than Kyle Busch? /s
Childress spoke of the spectacle as well as anyone, keying into his veteran’s radio after the race and telling Busch that they will get it better for him next time … if they have to come back next year.
The second running of the Coliseum Clash main event took double the amount of time as the original, had triple the number of cautions, and featured an average speed of 21.831 mph. That wasn’t a typo. The eventual winner was completely out of rear brakes by the end of the race.
“Your rear brakes are glowing like a motherfucker,” said Truex crew chief James Small with 37 to go.
They’re just overheated,” Truex said. “They’re red because they aren’t stopping anymore and I’m using too much pedal.”
The situation the Joe Gibbs Racing No. 19 team found themselves in was surely better than those chasing him. The pursuers still had brakes by the end, seemingly from their decision not to use them for 150 laps, while using each other up like ping pong balls.
And if this sounds like a complaint, it’s not, because this is exactly the kind of exhibition race, all-star spectacle the Clash needs to be at this point in the rebounding history of NASCAR.
Everyone longs for the time Cup Series events were attended by A-list celebrities, musical acts and headliners. They lament that the highest level of the discipline is no longer appointment mainstream television. But on a day designed to be the unfiltered fun needed to pull them in, a subset of the audience rejected it.
But really, this is effectively The Winston for our times.
Even as drivers beat the hell out of each other during the heats simply…
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