Many of us have said it that there are the drivers we like and the ones we don’t. But real race fans have at least one thing in common: we respect all drivers for their skills and the love for our sport.


With this Blog, I am putting my money where my mouth is, by writing about one of my least favorite drivers: Kurt Busch. Now wait, please don’t leave and hear me out. We are all quick to say which drivers we like and which we don’t. But have you, like me, ever stopped to think about why you do not like a certain driver? In my case, it does not always have something to do with their skills as a racer, like it is in the case of Kurt Busch. Some of you may not like him because of the on track and pit incidents Kurt was involved in. Others may not like him because he is nothing like his little brother Kyle. Yet others may not like him because when Kurt tried to change his bad boy image, he ended up looking more like a phony to some of us and way to PC. It is hard for me sometimes to separate the person from the driver as I always look for a total package. One of my problems is that my standards for a total driver package are way to high, but I am sorry, I am not willing to change that. The last total package to me was Dale Earnhardt and I am still looking for the next one.


So back to Kurt Busch, since I am dedicating this Blog to him.
Complexity is not one of the qualities stock-car racing fans look for in a champion driver. But that’s what they got in 2004, when baby-faced Kurt Busch won NASCAR’s season series by the narrowest margin in history. A smart, studious third-generation racer who received his big break before he had a handle on his emotions, he did his maturing like he does everything else: Fast. They always said Kurt would be willing to drive the wheels off his car to win, and in the final race of his championship season, he did—literally!


This is his story…
Kurt Busch was born on August 4, 1978, in Las Vegas, Nevada, to Gaye and Tom Busch. Tom was a mechanic and tool dealer from the Chicago area. His father had
raced on dirt ovals throughout the Midwest in the post-war years, and Tom followed in his footsteps. He and Gaye moved to Las Vegas in 1972, where he continued to race in Nevada, Utah and Arizona. Tom won several NASCAR-sanctioned
late-model events and a couple of regional titles, and then switched to dwarf cars when NASCAR started handicapping him.


By the age of six, Kurt was accompanying his father to the track. He especially liked the pre-race and post-race strategy and analysis, which he soaked up eagerly and efficiently. Kurt eventually learned at his Daddy’s knee how to tweak chassis, size up tracks, deal with officials, and even how to schmooze sponsors.
Kurt also picked up enough to handle a beat-up go-kart pretty well around their neighborhood’s cul-de-sac. He would race his dad on the unwieldy machine, as they competed against the clock. Within two weeks, he was beating Tom.


Kurt possessed a rare passion for everything he did, had a steel-trap mind, and was a natural athlete with particularly sharp reflexes. Baseball was his favorite team sport. He also took a liking to shooting when he was old enough to handle a gun. Not surprisingly, Kurt became an adept golfer, too. What Kurt lacked was patience. Living in Las Vegas, a town where people went from nobodies to superstars seemingly overnight, he was not a big fan of paying your dues. And in auto racing, sometimes that’s what you have to do. Even so, Kurt’s ability to consistently out-drive his competition accelerated him toward the top of his sport faster than anyone anticipated.


Though underage, Kurt and his father agreed that he was ready to go against adult track rats in Dwarf competition. Tom doctored the necessary paperwork, and Kurt sped to victory in just his second race, at the Las Vegas Speedway Park.
From there, the father-son team hit the road, competing at western tracks from Southern California to Utah. In 1994, Kurt’s first full year as a driver, he won 10 consecutive races at 10 different tracks, convincing Tom the 16-year-old was ready to move up again. The elder Busch eventually sold their dwarf equipment and purchased a powerful car for the Legends Series, which Kurt began driving in 1996, when he turned 18.


Kurt also enrolled at the University of Arizona, after graduating near the top of his
class at Durango High School. A whiz at math and physics, Kurt went to college hoping to get a degree in Pharmacy. Gaye had been a longtime arthritis sufferer, and Kurt could think of no better focus for his energy than finding a cure for this disease. Providing, of course, that racing didn’t work out.


To continue his motor sports career, Kurt needed more cash, so he eventually took a job with the city of Las Vegas, helping to construct new water mains in the country’s fastest-growing city. Between his job and his studies, he began to see some
interesting opportunities in microbiology, and actually planned to move into that field. To this day, he believes he’d be making six figures in that business had he stuck with college.


In 1997, Kurt joined the Featherlite Southwest, a NASCAR-sanctioned stock car tour, and college took a backseat. Craig Keough, who owned a chain of nurseries, sponsored Kurt, relieving some of the cash pressure (though he kept his water works job through 1999). During the three seasons he raced in the Featherlite series, Kurt won seven events. A great competitor, he almost always had a decent shot at grabbing the checkered flag,
despite the fact he rarely had the best car. Often, however, he blew his chance by making his move too soon.


As impetuous as he was talented, Kurt was starting to recognize that he still had a lot to learn. He knew that developing patience was the key, but at his impatient best he was still head and shoulders above the other drivers at the Featherlite level. This he proved by capturing the series championship in ‘99.


During a race at Sears Point that season, NASCAR owner Jack Roush and his truck team manager, Max Jones, happened to catch Kurt’s act on television. Roush was smitten with the young champion. As luck would have it, an opening would soon be created when Craftsman Series driver Mike Bliss decided to get out of the category.
Roush and Jones decided to fill this vacancy with what they called a “Gong Show” approach. They would look over as many as 100 young drivers, narrow that field down to a handful, and have them audition for the part in head-to-head to competition.


Kurt made the final cut, and was invited with five others to the Toledo Speedway.
He received permission to take a short leave from his water works supervisor, and showed up at the Ohio track ready to rock. There the drivers were asked to
demonstrate their skills both in and out of truck. In a round of high-pressure tests, Kurt and the others not only had to drive their butts off, they had to prove that they could communicate with their pit crews, and even show how they would deal with the press. Kurt was the winner, and was hired to drive truck # 99 the following
season.


One of the things Roush and Jones noticed about Kurt were his eyes. He had an animal hunger, a relentless desire for victory. Not a measured, focused Jeter-Jordan kind of drive. More like psychotic a Ty Cobb, Lawrence Taylor drive. Given that Kurt was pushing a couple of tons of heavy machinery in front of him, many in NASCAR found it unsettling that someone so young had risen so high.
Then again, Kurt had the kind of God-given ability that even the casual fan can spot from the grandstand. He knew when to slow down, when to jog right or left, and when to stomp on the gas. Kurt’s main problem was recognizing that the vehicle he
was operating actually had limits, and that he had to drive within those limits or risk
injury to himself and others. Drivers like this may move up the ladder quickly, but they don’t make many friends along the way.


Despite a legion of doubters, Kurt was magnificent in his Craftsman rookie year. He won four races in 2000 and finished second in the standings. It was somewhat nerve-wracking in the early going, as Kurt kept spinning out during racing. Seven times he lost control of his vehicle, but each time he managed to avoid a wreck. The
eighth time was the charm—he got creamed. This proved to be a blessing, however, as Kurt finally was locked in on what his truck could and could not do. From then on it was smooth sailing.


Off the track, the first year of Craftsman required a lot of adjusting. Although Kurt had been sponsored in the past, he had never had to deal with Fortune 500 sponsors.
And having never driven as part of a high-profile shop, he was often perplexed by team dynamics. Kurt was doing well in races, but there was a lot of grumbling between starts. Roush, who saw a lot of himself in the rookie, placated egos and
smoothed over the rough spots as best he could. Pretty soon, everyone got the message: the kid stays in the picture.


Although Kurt probably could have used another year of seasoning at this level, Roush played a hunch and promoted the 22-year-old to his Winston Cup team in August of 2000. His first race at the apex of NASCAR competition was at the MBNA.com 400. Kurt qualified 10th and finished 18th. Two weeks later, he posted his best showing, a 13th-place finish at the UAW/GM Quality 500. In all, he made
seven Winston Cup starts in 2000 and finished with $311,000 in earnings.


The idea that Jack Roush would hand over a full-time ride to a driver so wet behind the years met with mixed reaction in Winston Cup circles. To some, it was just a weird experiment. To those who knew Roush, however, it made perfect sense.
Friends suspected he had always wanted to have a father-son relationship with a talented driver. To Kurt, the fact that he had gone from the dusty tracks of the Southwest to a Winston Cup ride in less than two years seemed completely natural.
As had been the case in Kurt’s Craftsman debut, Winston Cup officials cringed at the thought of someone so young and impetuous behind the wheel of a Roush car. But few knew Kurt’s dedication to excellence. His ‘00 crew chief, Jeff Hammond, was amazed when he saw Kurt out on the track one morning with a bubble level and protractor, measuring the transition from the curves to the straightaways. He might have been young, but no one was more serious about success in his sport.


The 2001 season found Kurt paired with Ben Leslie, a fast rising young crew chief. The thinking that these two strong minded individuals would click was a calculated risk, and to a degree it worked. Kurt finished with a #27 ranking, was the runner up Rookie of the Year, and racked up more than $2 million in winnings. He won the
pole at the Southern 500, finished third at the Talladega 500 and fifth at the Brickyard 400. Still, by season’s end Roush felt that an older hand was definitely needed.


Heading into the 2002 season, the owner decided to pair his young star with veteran mechanic Jimmy Fennig. Fennig had worked with all-time greats Bobby Allison and Mark Martin, but never had experienced a talent as pure and raw as Kurt.
Roush’s instinct turned out to be right-on. Fennig was the same age as Kurt’s dad and had a similar demeanor. The communication was instant, and the results soon followed.


The first win and in many respects, the signature moment of Kurt’s career came at Bristol, when he traded paint with old hand Jimmy Spencer to take the 2002 Food City 500. As Kurt accepted the winner’s trophy, the unthinkable happened:
100,000-plus fans booed him. He smiled and waved, but it hurt him deeply that he was not accepted by the huge crowd. Kurt put this disappointment behind him and concentrated on the rest of the season.
By the end of the year, he and his crew had come together nicely. After inching their way into the Top 12 at the end of the summer, they won three of the final five Winston Cup events the Old Dominion 500, NAPA 500 and Ford 400—to finish
third in the standings.


Despite Kurt’s great finish and gaudy stats, the consensus at Roush Racing was that he still had some growing up to do. Kurt felt in his heart that he should win every race, and became difficult when the breaks did not go his way. Of greatest concern to the organization was his penchant for going public with complaints. And even when Kurt kept it in the family, the words he chose were often harsh and accusatory, not constructive. Team owners like their drivers to be leaders, and Kurt wasn’t even close.
These concerns lingered in the off-season, but were not acted upon. NASCAR had instituted numerous tech changes, and new body templates had been ordered for 2003, so the focus was on the cars. Kurt’s maturity became even less of an issue when he and teammate Matt Kenseth got off to terrific starts in ’03. Kurt began the year like a ball of fire, challenging for victory in about half his starts and taking the checkered flag at Bristol again for his fifth career victory. Kenseth was having a championship-caliber season, too.


Kurt slowed down, but did win three more races, the Auto Club 500, Sirius 500, and Sharpie 500, to finish 11th in the standings. No one expected him to improve on his #3 ranking from the year before, but 11 was lower than most had hoped, and a far cry from where Kurt thought he could be. The frustration mounted as the year wore on and the victories stopped coming. His youth was showing, his temper was flaring, and it seemed only a matter of time before something went wrong.


That something finally happened in August, at Michigan Int’l Speedway.
Kurt, who had been feuding with Spencer since he beat him at Bristol two seasons earlier, admitted on his radio show that he had tried to flatten the beloved veteran’s fender. After the race, Kurt went over to Spencer’s garage to give him a piece of his mind. Instead, Kurt got a piece of Spencer’s fist—right in the kisser. Consensus along pit row was that the kid deserved it. This incident, along with Kurt’s race tape, was enough to land him on probation for the rest of the year.


The Roush people tried their best to be patient with Kurt. They had always recognized the downside of accelerating a young driver’s development—he would
have to grow up in the spotlight. But Kurt didn’t seem to be maturing at all. The Spencer incident was one thing, but at a race in Atlanta, he chewed out his crew over the radio with thousands of fans listening in. Afraid that one of his outbursts would permanently damage his career, Kurt’s main sponsor, Newell-Rubbermaid, along with Roush and Kurt’s crew members urged him to see a stress-management specialist after the ‘03 season. Kurt agreed and completed a program in the off-season.


With Nextel as NASCAR’s new main sponsor in 2004, the format of the season changed. The first 26 races would establish a Top 10 group , which would then vie for the championship in a “shootout” comprising the season’s final 10 races. It would be known as “The Chase” for the Nextel Cup.
The format change had come about partly as a result of the 2003 Winston Cup points race. Kurt’s teammate, Matt Kenseth, had grabbed the points lead in the
spring and never let it go, taking some of the thrill out of the season. Kurt was not crazy about the new format. Had these rules been in place in 2002, he would have finished out of the running instead of third, because his late-season charge would not have counted as Chase points.


The fact that he finished 11th in ‘03 no doubt also played a part in his thinking. After a 16th-the place finish at the Daytona 500, Kurt raced consistently and never fell out
of the Top 10 in ‘04. He scored Top 10 finishes in three of his next four events, then won the Food City 500 for the third time. By mid-summer, he was a lock to make the Nextel Chase field.
This was a kinder, gentler—more grown-up—Kurt Busch. He was masking his emotions when they reached the boiling point, and choosing his words more
carefully when he did speak to the press. When he communicated with his crew, even when he was angry, he spoke in measured tones and no longer issued
sharp-tongued criticism.


Kurt had always been a proponent of learning from his mistakes, and he continued to do so in ’04. The difference was, he was now publicly admitting them. He was developing into a team player, a young leader, all the things Roush imagined he would someday be.
Ironically, “Busch II” was even less popular with the fans! They felt Kurt was being a phony, and were no longer sure who the guy was. They may have booed him for
insulting other drivers and chewing out his pit crew, but at least he was saying something interesting. Now he was saying nothing. Kurt seemed more corporate than his own corporate sponsors sometimes. There were no more malapropisms, no more good-old-boy chatter. Although he had long since given up thoughts of being a pharmacy student, the once-fiery Kurt now had all the sex appeal of a light-blue-jacketed pharmacist.
The criticism leveled at Kurt was understandable, but also unfair. What the fans were forgetting was the measured consistency that is constantly preached to Roush Racing drivers. It was what turned Kenseth into the Winston Cup champion the year before, and it was now doing wonders for Kurt.


From a racing standpoint, the change in Kurt was obvious. Whereas in past seasons he would try to win every race, regardless of how well his car was running, in ’04 he took measure of his vehicle, analyzed the opportunities and concentrated on finishing as well as possible. Boring? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.
Kurt grabbed an early advantage in the shootout stage of the schedule, winning the Sylvania 300 in New Hampshire. Next, he turned in a fifth-place finish at Talladega. Another fifth, followed by a sixth, fourth and fifth, boosted Kurt to the top of the standings after six races, as the other drivers jockeyed for position. Kurt and his crew worked together beautifully. They limited their errors to minor ones, and cleaned up any messes, including a couple of hairy spinouts as quickly and efficiently as possible.


The Chase for the Nextel Cup would have been a cakewalk were it not for a blown engine in Atlanta with four races to go. This resulted in a 42nd-place finish for Kurt, which left little margin for error the rest of the way. Jeff Gordon was right behind him, and Jimmie Johnson got hot and won four races to make a late charge.
Going into the final race, the Ford 400 at the Miami-Homestead Speedway, Gordon and Johnson were 21 and 18 points behind Kurt, respectively, after nine races had been run. Mark Martin and Dale Earnhardt, Jr. were also in the mix. Kurt responded to this challenge by winning the pole, sending a message that anyone who wanted the championship would have to take it from him.


Obviously, if Kurt could finish ahead of his pursuers in Miami, the math was moot.
But this would not be an easy day.
Kurt blew out to an early lead, and then drifted back after four laps, content to let others battle it out for first and keeping tabs on Gordon and Johnson. The plan was working well until Kurt sensed an irregularity with his right front tire on Lap 93, almost as if it were losing air. An unscheduled pit stop would put his championship in jeopardy, but he had always had a good feel for minor problems like this, and he wasn’t about to start ignoring his instincts. Kurt made his way toward the pits, confident that there was enough racing left that day to make up the time he would lose.


Then the unthinkable happened. As Kurt veered toward the access road, his wheel literally came off. It was like a bad dream and bad cliche rolled into one.
Despite initial appearances, however, all was not lost. As luck would have it, Kurt’s tire rolled back onto the track, bringing out the caution flag. This meant, assuming his crew worked fast enough, he would be able to rejoin the race without going down a lap.
Getting to his crew was no easy trick. Kurt barely missed the water barrier and, with sparks flying, fought his vehicle like mad and finally managed to swerve it into the pits on three wheels. He got patched up, and back out before losing a lap. It was the most nerve jangling pit stop of his career. Kurt was still in the running, but would
have to work his was forward from 28th place. Had this turn of events been written into a movie script, any self respecting racing fan would have walked out of theater.


But the best was yet to come. Kurt began his charge with Ryan Newman and Tony Stewart setting a torrid pace at the front. Moving up through the pack, he came upon Johnson, who was running just in front of Gordon. They tried to shake Kurt, but could not. Neither driver could afford to simply finish ahead of Kurt—in order to win the Nextel Cup, they had to finish way ahead of him.


The mathematicians in the stands were having a field day. The jockeying was such that, at one time or another during the race’s second half, the Nextel champ could have been Kurt, Johnson or Gordon.
With five laps to go, Kurt was running seventh. That meant Gordon could win the Championship if he took the checkered flag. It also meant that Johnson could finish
second and win it. Things got even more interesting when Newman suffered a cut tire and Stewart dropped back with fuel problems. Kurt made a couple of key passes, and then a late caution extended the race by four laps.


Incredibly, Kurt’s Roush Racing teammate, Greg Biffle, grabbed the lead on the restart and beat Johnson and Gordon to the finish line. Kurt’s fifth-place finish left him with just enough to hang on to the championship.
During the final couple of laps, Kurt experienced a wave of emotion. He felt sick to
stomach, he felt all alone, he felt great to be part of a winning team, he felt giddy and at no time was he even sure he was going to win the title. When he crossed the line and was told he was officially NASCAR’s third youngest champion, he cut loose in joyous celebration. Tom Busch and Jack Roush beamed like a couple of first time fathers.


The NASCAR marketing machine can handle just about anything, but it may find it especially challenging to transform Kurt Busch into a popular champion with its core fans. He lacks the down-home charm of the other drivers, and although his high intensity approach to racing is appealing, his high brow demeanor is not.
It was perhaps inevitable that, as stock-car racing became more technical, its top driver would end up being someone like Kurt. That may be less a debate than a reality at this point, however. For whether fans love him, hate him, or just wish he would be someone else, Kurt looks like he is here to stay.


In the sometimes cartoonish world of NASCAR personalities, it seems as if Kurt is destined to cultivate a “bad guy” image. Whereas the old Kurt was quick to criticize other drivers and tended to hog the spotlight, the new Kurt is more in line with the traditions of NASCAR, especially when it comes to sharing credit with his teammates and crew. It is actually hard to tell where he belongs on the driver spectrum right now, which may be part of his PR problem.
Once he got his anger issues under control, Kurt’s other qualities combined to make him a terrific driver. He is often described as cerebral, but what fans tend to overlook is that he has an unusually good feel for his car. Kurt can feel a slight vibration or hear a tiny noise and know almost immediately whether its a minor problem, major problem, or a potentially catastrophic one. This might make another driver overly
cautious, but it gives Kurt the confidence to be uninhibited behind the wheel.


Yet far from being a know-it-all, he continues to sponge up advice and information
as fast as it comes. Indeed, Kurt is not one to enjoy a mystery. If he doesn’t understand how something works or why it works the way it does, he studies it obsessively until he knows it backwards and forwards. If there is a technique or strategy that eludes him, he practices it until it is mastered. And when he makes a mistake, he analyzes it from every angle until he is satisfied he will never make it
again. These are not recent developments. Kurt has been this way since his teen years.


This is a good place in the Blog to add some of the quotes made about Kurt during his time with Jack Roush:


“He’s done a great job handling the pressure.”
—NASCAR star Matt Kenseth


“It’s a new NASCAR championship, and it’s a new Kurt Busch. Although you might not have liked either in the beginning, it’s time to give both a chance. Neither is going away any time soon.”
—Sportswriter Lee Spencer


“Kurt is a very driven young man, extremely focused, extremely competitive.”
—Roush GM Geoff Smith


“He’s got very high standards for himself, and he has a tendency to impose those on others.”
—Roush


“There’s a lot of work when you come into this level of racing, and it takes a lot of time. I’m not sure he realized all of that exactly when he came in.”
—Roush


“I admire Kurt for his passion. I’ve never seen anybody learn everything you have to learn in this sport as quickly did.”
—Roush


“When he needed something to happen—whether it be a caution, whether he spun and didn’t hit anything—that’s what makes up a championship year for you.”
—NASCAR champ Jeff Gordon


“Kurt doesn’t argue with me. Not much anyway.”
—Crew Chief Jimmy Fennig


“I don’t think people understand the time we’ve invested to get Kurt where he’s at today. How he’s matured—he’s done that on his own. But the transformation in the last couple of years has even surprised me.”
—Gaye Busch


“Kurt is more even-keeled as opposed to getting really upset and losing focus.”
—NASCAR driver Jeff Burton


“He’s a talent that comes along once every ten years”
—Legendary crew chief Robbie Loomis


Well, we now know that Kurt is a pretty smart cookie and we cannot doubt his passion for our sport. And by God, he’s pretty dang good racing a car too.


Let’s move on to the present. We know that Kurt is one of the first in recent Nascar History to get out of his present contract with Roush and join the Captain, Roger Penke to drive the Blue Deuce Miller Lite car, previously driven by Rusty Wallace. Hind site is 20/20 and I bet if Kurt had to do it all over again he would have shopped around a little longer to find a team that’s a better fit for him. Things have been slowly going down hill for Kurt, but we cannot and must not lay most of the blame on Kurt’s shoulders. We all know it takes much more than skill, luck and a will to succeed to win a Cup race. Roger Penske is spread way to thin with the various types of racing he is invloved in and I think his Cup teams are suffering because of it. With all due respect for the Captain, he needs to get his head out of his butt and see what is happening to his Cup teams and start making some changes. And oh by the way Roger, taking Kurt’s points away that he worked so hard for, only to hand them over on a silver platter to Sam Hornish, a open wheeler brand new to Nascar, did absolutely nothing for Kurt’s self esteem. Yes, I know, Kurt helped Ryan Newman win a race this year, but that does not make them great team mates, not by a long stretch, especially compared to teams like RCR, now there is team work. But they had to work on it and so do the Penske teams with the guidance of Roger himself.