We've Lost Bobby Hamilton
There are times when no news is good news. Bobby Hamilton was doing better in his fight against head and neck cancer. That was what we last heard.
It’s been somewhat of a slow off-season in NASCAR. Although testing was approaching, even that can be rather boring. So when I launched my browser last night and NASCAR.com came up as my home page, I barely looked, predetermined to type in a search. Just as I was sent to my result page, I saw it. The red alert bar. Hamilton. Dies.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to go back and look again. I hoped I was just seeing things, or it was false information. But when I returned, it was still there, and it remained there as I broke down in anguished sobs. The article was posted at 7:15PM. When I first thought to look at the current time, it was 7:19.
Bobby lost his battle with cancer. He was only 49.
His death seemed to take everyone off guard. It was so sudden and took a complete opposite turn from what we all believed. A shock, a loss that sent me reeling and wondering why horrible things happen to good people.
I became a NASCAR fan in 2003 and I am ashamed to admit I was disgustingly narrow-minded and hateful towards many drivers. Jeff Gordon, Jimmie Johnson, Rusty Wallace…so many I would insult as they were interviewed, or won races. Bobby Hamilton Jr. won my detest in the Busch Series. When my cable provider introduced SPEED to the basic channels, I watched the Craftsman Truck Series for the first time. Bobby Jr.’s father raced there and naturally, I hated him too.
Hating takes a lot of energy. It drains you. And eventually, I grew up. Suddenly, I began to develop a fondness for Jeff, and Jimmie, and everyone else. The Hamiltons were no exception. I held a respect for them, even if I didn’t always hang off their next words during interviews.
In 2004, Bobby Hamilton led the points in the Truck Series. Darlington in the fall found himself and his son racing for the win behind Kasey Kahne. The unthinkable happened during the restart for the green-white-checkered – Bobby Jr. messed up. As the field leaped forward, Bobby Jr. did not. His father plowed into the back of him, sending him spinning into a horrific crash that brought out the red flag. The younger Hamilton was okay and the race completed, but Bobby Sr. did not care. In a post-race interview, he let the pain and devastation show through tears and a shaky voice. He just crashed his son. How could he be happy with a second place finish?
And it was then that I became a fan of the Hamiltons. This was even more enforced when for the first time I learned how Bobby Hamilton got where he was – all the hell he went through, all the danger he faced, all the obstacles and nay-sayers. He surpassed everything and everyone. When he won the championship, I was glad and proud.
Then the worst happened. In the beginning of 2006, Bobby Hamilton announced that he had head and neck cancer. His son would take his seat as driver for the #18 Fastenal Dodge. However, Bobby was determined to beat the cancer and drive again in the season closing race at Homestead. Homestead came, but not his return. Then came the news that Ken Schrader would drive the truck in 2007. I guess there were warning signs, but I never expected this.
Bobby knew that beating the cancer would be the fight of his life. And, as sometimes is inevitable, it claimed his life.
Now we sit and wonder what will happen next. We contemplate the uncertainties of the future and grow apprehensive of the realization that things happen so quickly. There are things so much bigger than who-wrecked-who, or why my driver finished so poorly, or who is gay, or who should’ve hung up his career ten years ago. The truth is that we take these peoples’ lives for granted. Who we insult or laugh or scoff at today may very well be gone forever tomorrow.
Think about it.
Please give your thoughts, prayers, strength…anything…to Bobby Hamilton’s family and friends. And while you’re on that mindset, send them to Benny Parsons as well, for things have not gone as planned. His cancer is in remission, but there are still battles to fight. Unfortunately, the horizon looks dark.
Just remember…think about it. Life is so precious.
Bobby Hamilton, Sr.
May 29th, 1957 – January 7th, 2007
It’s been somewhat of a slow off-season in NASCAR. Although testing was approaching, even that can be rather boring. So when I launched my browser last night and NASCAR.com came up as my home page, I barely looked, predetermined to type in a search. Just as I was sent to my result page, I saw it. The red alert bar. Hamilton. Dies.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to go back and look again. I hoped I was just seeing things, or it was false information. But when I returned, it was still there, and it remained there as I broke down in anguished sobs. The article was posted at 7:15PM. When I first thought to look at the current time, it was 7:19.
Bobby lost his battle with cancer. He was only 49.
His death seemed to take everyone off guard. It was so sudden and took a complete opposite turn from what we all believed. A shock, a loss that sent me reeling and wondering why horrible things happen to good people.
I became a NASCAR fan in 2003 and I am ashamed to admit I was disgustingly narrow-minded and hateful towards many drivers. Jeff Gordon, Jimmie Johnson, Rusty Wallace…so many I would insult as they were interviewed, or won races. Bobby Hamilton Jr. won my detest in the Busch Series. When my cable provider introduced SPEED to the basic channels, I watched the Craftsman Truck Series for the first time. Bobby Jr.’s father raced there and naturally, I hated him too.
Hating takes a lot of energy. It drains you. And eventually, I grew up. Suddenly, I began to develop a fondness for Jeff, and Jimmie, and everyone else. The Hamiltons were no exception. I held a respect for them, even if I didn’t always hang off their next words during interviews.
In 2004, Bobby Hamilton led the points in the Truck Series. Darlington in the fall found himself and his son racing for the win behind Kasey Kahne. The unthinkable happened during the restart for the green-white-checkered – Bobby Jr. messed up. As the field leaped forward, Bobby Jr. did not. His father plowed into the back of him, sending him spinning into a horrific crash that brought out the red flag. The younger Hamilton was okay and the race completed, but Bobby Sr. did not care. In a post-race interview, he let the pain and devastation show through tears and a shaky voice. He just crashed his son. How could he be happy with a second place finish?
And it was then that I became a fan of the Hamiltons. This was even more enforced when for the first time I learned how Bobby Hamilton got where he was – all the hell he went through, all the danger he faced, all the obstacles and nay-sayers. He surpassed everything and everyone. When he won the championship, I was glad and proud.
Then the worst happened. In the beginning of 2006, Bobby Hamilton announced that he had head and neck cancer. His son would take his seat as driver for the #18 Fastenal Dodge. However, Bobby was determined to beat the cancer and drive again in the season closing race at Homestead. Homestead came, but not his return. Then came the news that Ken Schrader would drive the truck in 2007. I guess there were warning signs, but I never expected this.
Bobby knew that beating the cancer would be the fight of his life. And, as sometimes is inevitable, it claimed his life.
Now we sit and wonder what will happen next. We contemplate the uncertainties of the future and grow apprehensive of the realization that things happen so quickly. There are things so much bigger than who-wrecked-who, or why my driver finished so poorly, or who is gay, or who should’ve hung up his career ten years ago. The truth is that we take these peoples’ lives for granted. Who we insult or laugh or scoff at today may very well be gone forever tomorrow.
Think about it.
Please give your thoughts, prayers, strength…anything…to Bobby Hamilton’s family and friends. And while you’re on that mindset, send them to Benny Parsons as well, for things have not gone as planned. His cancer is in remission, but there are still battles to fight. Unfortunately, the horizon looks dark.
Just remember…think about it. Life is so precious.
Bobby Hamilton, Sr.
May 29th, 1957 – January 7th, 2007
