Day in the pits gives noisy perspective on inner workings of racing

Monday, September 10, 2001

By Chris Dolack, Post-Gazette Sports Writer

Post-Gazette sports writer Chris Dolack was granted access to Mac Hill Motorsports' pit stall during the Chicagoland ARCA 200 Sept. 1. Here is his account from behind the pit wall:

The press box.

At a racetrack, it's often plush and luxurious. Air conditioning. Food and drink. Cushioned seats. Television monitors. Unobstructed views. Hardly seems like a place for work, some say.

But despite common belief, press boxes are not exactly utopia. They are somewhat detached from actual racing. Often times a press box is atop the main grandstand, far removed from action on the track or in the garages.

Or in the pits, where races often are won or lost. As drivers become more equal on the track, pit stops have become more crucial. Does a team change two tires or four tires? Does it put 22 gallons of fuel in the tank or only 11? Should there be an adjustment to the tire pressure? These are questions a crew chief agonizes over, but it's difficult to know exactly how much while observing from the confines of a press box.

So when Waynesburg-based Mac Hill Motorsports asked if I would lend a hand at the Automobile Racing Club of America's inaugural 200-mile race Sept. 1 at Chicagoland Speedway in Joliet, Ill., I hesitantly agreed. After all, this would mean leaving the serene setting of the press box to do actual work during a race. Plus, I hadn't changed a tire in about three years -- and even then I think it took about 20 minutes.

Still, I showed up on the day of the race not knowing exactly what task I would be asked to perform. The track is a new 1.5-mile D-shaped oval about 40 miles southwest of Chicago. It is a beautiful 75,000-seat facility.

The garages were buzzing all morning -- mechanics rushing around making last minute adjustments, team representatives showing sponsors where their money is going. The driver for Mac Hill Motorsports is Richard Mitchell, a two-time NASCAR Northeast Region champion from Bruceton Mills, W.Va., who also won the 1999 and 2000 late model titles at Motordrome Speedway in Smithton. Making his sixth ARCA start, Mitchell qualified fifth in a Pontiac the team bought from NASCAR's Bill Davis Racing.

An hour before the race was to begin, I was outfitted in the team's uniform. I anxiously strolled from the team's hauler to the pit stall, where tire specialist Bill King was gluing lug nuts onto wheels that would be used during the race. Sticking the lug nuts onto the wheels in advance, I learned, is the only way a tire changer can complete a lightning-quick stop. Todd McNair, the front tire carrier, was putting florescent orange tape on the concrete pad in front of the pit stall as a target for Mitchell to hit when he stops.

The first stop

Everything still is calm as crew members from each team form single-file rows in their pits to hear the national anthem. The view down pit road is stirring.

Mitchell is in his car somewhere down pit road when the command to start the engines is announced. No matter, there's work assignments to be handed out. Chris Mitchell, Richard's brother and crew chief, will change the front tires. My task for the race: Haul the hose from the air wrench Mitchell uses and don't let the changed tires bounce off the pit wall and back across pit road. Should the car drive over the hose leaving the pits, I was told a penalty will be assessed, so I approach the task, as does everyone else on the team, with the same intensity as if I were behind the wheel of the car.

With each parade lap, everyone on the team starts clapping, even if it is with glove-covered hands. Finally, the green flag waves and the deafening sound of 39 800-horsepower cars roars right in front of us.

I quickly realize that watching the race has to be much better from the grandstands. From my vantage point, I see cars come blasting out of Turn 4 at about 170 mph and disappear into Turn 1 just as fast. The pit crew is silent, but each one pivots in place and strains to see the car on the backstretch.

Mitchell is keeping pace with the leaders when about 25 laps into the 134-lap race, cars spin out of Turn 4. The yellow flag comes out. The field slows behind the pace car. King and McNair get the first set of tires ready.

Dave Garrison extends a sign with a West Virginia University logo -- Mitchell's alma mater -- at the front of the pit stall, which is the first one after an access road to the garage area. In front of Mitchell is Ed Berrier, a Winston Cup veteran racing in ARCA again.

McNair, with a new right front tire, and Chris Mitchell, with an air wrench in his hand, balance on the edge of pit wall. Everyone waits, careful not to fall. Mitchell is spotted, and everyone starts waving their arms so he can see the stall, which is about three-quarters of the way down pit road. He comes to a perfect stop on the tape marks. Chuck Parker jumps over the wall with the jack, but I don't take my eyes off Chris Mitchell. Engines scream all around. The distinctive high-pitched whizzing of air wrenches is almost as loud. Lug nuts fly everywhere. The tire comes off and is thrown toward the pit wall. Mitchell sets down the wrench to put the new right front tire on. I start pulling the hose and wrench not realizing he hasn't finished. I stop before it causes trouble. Everyone races around to the left side. Car's up, tires off and then on. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tony Neiman finish fueling. The engine revs, Parker drops the jack, Mitchell blows out of the pit. All is see is his car number, 54, and the logo of his sponsor, Coach USA, turn into a blur against the white background of his car.

The team looks frustrated. It is a 29-second stop. I'm stunned. Mitchell drops from fifth to seventh. Four new tires and 22 gallons of 110-octane fuel in 29 seconds. All I can think is, "How do Winston Cup teams pull off 16-second stops?"

Mitchell later says the stops are some of his best this season.

"They're a lot better than they have been. They kept us up there in the top seven."

The second stop

The team catches its breath as the field gets ready to restart the race. King seems to be the busiest guy in the pits, consistently monitoring the remaining tires, getting the next set ready. There is no drop in intensity. Chris Mitchell practices his tire changing technique with an assist from former Winston Cup crew chief David Ifft, who is working as a consultant for the team. Parker maintains his post at the pit wall. Garrison and I recoil the hoses for next the stop.

Caution comes out again. Mitchell is battling with Tim Steele and Jason Jarrett to get back into the top five. The stop begins the same way, Garrison waves the WVU sign, Mitchell hits the marks. McNair and Chris Mitchell race around to the right side. Parker has the car on the jack in split seconds. Tires roll toward the wall. Lug nuts fly again. This time I leave enough slack in the hose for Mitchell to get around the nose. Everyone races around to the left side, the car's up, the engine revs, there's slight trouble with the wrench on the left front. I'm still focused on Mitchell but out of the corner of my eye I see Parker waving his arms. I think something's wrong but yelling to hurry up is futile with a screaming motor two feet away. Back tires are on, fuel's in. The car's down. He's gone. The stop is 25 seconds. Again, I can't figure out how a Winston Cup team can do this any faster.

The third stop

McNair scoops up the loose lug nuts. The field gets ready to restart again on lap 76. Then comes the news over the radio -- the transmission in Mitchell's car has lost third gear. It takes him eight laps to reach the same speed as the leaders. He drops back into the middle of the pack before he mounts another charge. No words are spoken -- the crew's somber faces tell the story. No one is smiling. Without third gear, Mitchell has virtually no chance of winning. But the race isn't over. King runs around again getting tires ready for the next stop, which will most likely be the last.

Caution comes out on lap 112. Everyone is back on the wall. Car owner Jack McNelly is bracing Neiman and a full can of fuel. Garrison waves the sign. McNair and Chris Mitchell again are perched and waiting on the wall. Mitchell has raced his way back to ninth. He is strong on long runs.

Everyone's leaning over the wall, waiting and watching. Berrier blows into the pit next to us. Mitchell is right behind. McNair, Chris Mitchell and Parker race around to the right side. The car goes up, tires are off and on in no time. Berrier leaves his pit in a cloud of smoke. McNair and Mitchell service the left side, I yank the hose back, Mitchell blasts out of the pit. Four tires and fuel in 26 seconds. Everyone seems to take a deep breath. The rest is up to Mitchell.

The checkered flag

The green came back out on lap 117. Without third gear and battling a loose condition where his car seemed to slide up the track in turns, Mitchell again faded. Despite knowing he had little chance to win down the stretch, the team still cheered and high-fived each other with every car Mitchell passed to finish ninth.

Berrier, who appeared to have the fastest car the final 25 laps, held off Jarrett for the victory. As Chris Mitchell collected all the equipment from the team's pit stall, the celebration in Berrier's pit caught his attention. "I was carrying the jack and the air tank. I wasn't even watching where I was going, I was staring at them the whole time because I want to be there. I want to be there bad."

And after spending the race in his pit, I fully understood what he meant.