PRO-gress…

HOME / PRO-gress…

June 30th, 2016

My wife Barbara and I are both big hockey fans. Like, huge hockey fans. And not just the games, either (Go Minnesota Wild!) but also the talk shows and highlights. And, since many hockey players and executives are Canadian, we get a big kick out of one of the most standard lines you’ll ever hear from a Canadian-born coach or NHL Network analyst, with a perfect Canadian accent. When things haven’t been going well but are starting to turn around, for their team or one they’re analyzing, they’ll say “There’s PRO-gress in the organ-eye-zation.”

Any time we’re working on a project, whether at home or at work, and we’re finally starting to see the finish line, we both say “Pro-gress in the organ-eye-zation” and laugh.

Well, in terms of “Bats, Balls, & Burnouts” and its long-running development, there’s been pro-gress since the first day I sat at my desk and started to write. But now, as June turns to July and I complete my sixth month of writing, it’s really heading toward the finish line and the biggest thing I have to keep in check is impatience. There’s a part of me that wants to strap into my office chair and work nonstop until I’m done. I’m getting that close, but that’s not the way to write. It’s not a marathon. It’s a series of short sprints.

Each day, when I’m writing a new chapter on Monday through Wednesday every week, I find four hours to be about the right amount of writing time. I can spend just as long fixing, editing, and tweaking things, but four hours of creativity is about right. When I write any longer than that, in one sitting, I start to get sloppy and see later that I have more “fixing” to do. After three days of that, I typically have around 20 pages done. Then, like today, it becomes Thursday and it’s Blog Day around here. On Friday, one more look and a few more tweaks, and then it’s off to Greg Halling for his input.

I finished the initial draft of Chapter 23 yesterday, and it focuses on my first job doing PR for professional teams on the NHRA circuit. That’s how close we’re getting. I wasn’t yet an independent PR rep at the time, I worked for a guy in New Jersey who represented a number of NHRA teams, but it gave me my first taste of writing press releases, pitching stories, and seeing my work appear in print, despite the fact we rode dinosaurs to work and sent out releases out via the Pony Express.

There would be a few additional detours in my career, as I consistently followed my heart and refused to stop and think, but the NHRA public-relations thing was imbedded in me, and would steer many of my dreams from that point forward. By the time Chapter 23 ends, I’m less than three years away from going to work for Del and Chuck Worsham. And I started this book writing about my earliest memories, when I was three years old. That’s a lot of ground to cover.

And while covering that ground, I’ve had to dig back into my memory banks to connect a lot of dots. Today is Throwback Thursday on social media, but my last six months have been one long TBT adventure. I sometimes blank out when it’s time to enter my PIN at the ATM, but I remember so many tiny details, spanning what’s now six decades of life, and it’s been a joyful thing to write all about them.

1982-ish. Alumni Game. Three former roomies, still so young.
1982 SIUE Alumni Game. Three former roomies, still so young.

A few minutes ago, I posted this gem on Facebook. I was looking for a particular magazine to come up with a certain guy’s name (it’s research, and I do it every day because I don’t remember EVERYTHING) and when I reached into the back of yet another box full of stuff we moved with us to Minnesota, I found this photo.

I’m 99% sure the year is 1982. From left to right, we have Bob “Radar” Ricker, Lance McCord, and a very young version of me. I was a scout for the Blue Jays then, hence my apparel. We were back at the ballpark at Southern Illinois University – Edwardsville for the annual baseball alumni game. We lost to the varsity, not surprisingly, and I’m pretty sure I went 0-for-4, but the fun was simply getting together with a bunch of former teammates and having a blast. There was also beer, after the game.

At this precise point, we were only three years beyond the last time we’d all lived together. Still so young, with so much ahead of us. So many experiences, good and bad, yet to encounter. And in just a few weeks, the three of us will be joined by another former Cougar and former roommate, James “Oscar” Noffke, here in the Twin Cities for our annual reunion. I can’t wait.

Nice hat! Heartland Park 1991.
Nice hat! Heartland Park 1991.

Keeping with the TBT theme, there’s this magnificent photograph. 1991 at Heartland Park Topeka for the AC Delco Heartland Nationals. I was the GM of the track, and I brought my parents over for the race. My mom took this photo of my father and me, behind the suite tower at the track. I am wearing a hat that is taller than anything any train conductor ever wore. And again, so young and so naive at the time.

Skip and Taffy had a great time, and the race was spectacular. We packed them in for four straight days, and I’m pretty sure we sent all of those fans home happy, knowing they’d seen a great event. I’m sure my dad was saying “Why do these cars have to be so loud?” in the photograph.

That year at Heartland Park changed everything. It was my first experience with racing of any sort, including NHRA, and before the summer was over I was convinced that I wanted to work for an NHRA team, doing marketing and PR. The funny thing was, I had never done any public or media relations to that point in my life. I think I saw myself as more of a marketing genius, but the PR thing ended up being the job I did best.

It took me a few years to make that dream of being part of a professional NHRA team a reality, but I never lost sight of it and I kept trying until I made it happen. I also went broke a few times, making the effort.

The wine is moved, and the racing wall is hung
The wine is moved, and the racing wall is hung

Here at the ranch, in Minnesota, we continue to make that pro-gress in our organ-eye-zation. Although we still need a second wine rack, we do have all the bottles safely tucked away and that allowed me to finish the “racing wall” in the lower level.

I have enough racing photos to fill a house of almost any size, but I made the conscious decision to follow a more minimalist formula. Instead of dozens of shots from various years, various cars, and various wins, I go with four frames that mean the most and cover my two-decade career. On the far left, a series of shots from the 2005 US Nationals and Skoal Showdown, when Del Worsham and all of us on the CSK team enjoyed our “double-up” win and the big oversized checks that came with it all. (Yes, as always, you can click on the photos to enlarge them).

In the middle is the single largest photograph I own, of Del doing his burnout in Denver circa 2002. It’s a great shot, but it has far more meaning than any standard burnout pic. In 2002, the year this was taken, Del won the race in Denver. But, I wasn’t there. It was the first race I’d missed since I joined the Worshams in 1997, and it was only because my father passed away just a day before I was supposed to get on a plane and leave.

In Memory...
In Memory…

In the photo, you can see the decal Del put on his side windows. It says “In Memory… Del Wilber”

The framed photos on the right are from my Team Wilk years. A great victory collage from Seattle, and Whit Bazemore’s unbelievably great photo of the LRS car lighting up the night.

I sent a FAX to the team hotel that Sunday morning after my father passed away, explicitly explaining my thoughts to my teammates. The FAX said “KICK ASS!” in large bold letters. The guys taped it up inside the transporter.

When they won, they called me from the Winner’s Circle.  More than a couple of the guys who got on the phone were crying. 100% of the people on my phone were doing the same. It was one of the more emotional wins of my NHRA career, and in such a sad but heartfelt way.

And that’s why I risked everything, on numerous occasions, to be a team PR rep. I wanted to be a part of a team. Of a family. I grew up in baseball, never dreaming of ever being in racing in general, or drag racing in specific. I never thought of it as a career path until I was hired at Heartland Park. And that’s when I knew I wanted to be on a team. I needed to be on a team.

I’m learning a lot about myself writing this book. As I piece it all together and go back over so many memories, so many things crystallize and become abundantly clear. Needing to be on a team is just one of them. And it needed to be a real team. A sports team. I’d worked a number of great jobs before I got to Topeka, and I always considered the people I worked with to be a team, but that wasn’t precisely what I craved. Winning and losing, as a sports team, is unique. There’s nothing like it.

Between baseball, indoor soccer, and drag racing I’ve been incredibly fortunate to be on a some phenomenal teams, and that’s not simply a case of winning. It’s the chemistry and the camaraderie. It’s winning AND losing. Having each others’ backs, supporting each other, pulling for each other. And when you do win… It’s incredible.

See you next week before I head to Joliet to see some former teammates.

Bob Wilber, at your service on Throwback Thursday.

 

Leave a Reply