Loss of a true legend

First of all I would like to say that I've never been a fan of auto racing, whether it be NASCAR, Indy Racing or NHRA. My thought has always been that if you need to rely on a machine to win it's not a real sport.

Big races like Daytona or the Indianapolis 500, I'll watch the last 20 laps or so. It's like the NBA -- the last two minutes of the game is really all you need to see.

Just when it started to get interesting Sunday afternoon, a horrific crash involving Tony Stewart and 18 other cars brought out a caution flag ... and a long delay.

I went back to watching the Minnesota Wild hold on to defeat San Jose. After some time, I glanced over and saw a jubilant Michael Waltrip cross the finish line to win the biggest NASCAR race of the season. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then the camera concentrated on the infield grass, where a herd of medical personnel converged on a familiar vehicle -- the black No. 3 car of Dale Earnhardt.

I didn't think much of it at the time. The sound was down on the TV, and I figured Earnhardt would be ticked off for crashing on the last lap. I saw the replay and figured he didn't have much to gripe about because it looked to be his fault -- he was the one that lost control and took Ken Schrader's car into the wall.

It was awhile later when someone asked me what I thought about Earnhardt. I said he must have hated crashing on the last lap and will probably give his kid a smack for finishing ahead of him.

That's when it hit me like a shovel.

"No," he said. "Didn't you hear he got killed?"

"Yeah, sure," I said.

Then I heard it from someone else, and from someone after that. Now I had to flip on ESPN to see exactly what was going on.

I couldn't believe it.

For NASCAR and NASCAR fans -- or sports fans for that matter -- it's the equivalent of Michael Jordan dying under the hoop. Or Wayne Gretzky dying on the ice. Or Mark McGwire collapsing while rounding the bases.

The sense of loss was overwhelming.

I watched the crash over and over. It's something you've seen a million times on the track -- nothing looked to be particularly devastating. Stewart's crash looked much worse.

Nevertheless, he's gone.

If I had to root for a driver, it was Earnhardt. I've always liked the bad boys -- guys who did whatever they had to to win. No apologies.

Earnhardt was the master of that. His nickname fit him perfectly, because he intimidated almost everyone. Drivers knew he was lurking somewhere.

It's just unbelievable. The man was a legend, winning 34 times on the Daytona track alone -- including the 500 just three years ago -- and winning the Winston Cup championship seven times. His bravado was always apparent, and you just know he was trying to hold on to that third spot so the top three finishers would have all been from the Earnhardt camp.

Waltrip's elation lasted until someone told him at Victory Lane. The footage of Dale Jr. getting out of his car and running, trying to find out what happened. TV cameras catching paramedics performing CPR.

The footage from inside his car as the crash happened.

It was absolutely stunning.

No one will be able to replace him, and no one should even try. He was one of a kind ... another reason I liked him.

All I know is that he died on the last turn of the last lap of the Daytona 500. For some strange reason it just seems right that he went out doing what he loves to do on that particular track.

But for the rest of us, we lost a true sporting icon. Someone I'll never forget.

Column by Paul Dunlap, Journal sports editor