Without Earnhardt, NASCAR Needs Black Crossover Star

Feb 16, 2016; Daytona Beach, FL, USA; NASCAR Xfinity Series driver Darrell Wallace Jr. during media day for the 2016 NASCAR season at Daytona International Speedway. Mandatory Credit: Jasen Vinlove-USA TODAY Sports
Feb 16, 2016; Daytona Beach, FL, USA; NASCAR Xfinity Series driver Darrell Wallace Jr. during media day for the 2016 NASCAR season at Daytona International Speedway. Mandatory Credit: Jasen Vinlove-USA TODAY Sports /
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As Dale Earnhardt Jr. retires from NASCAR, the sport needs a new crossover star. To truly begin the next era, the future face of NASCAR needs to be black.

Familiarity. That’s how Dale Earnhardt Jr. became NASCAR’s most popular driver.

In a time when comfort was needed most—the death of Dale Earnhardt, the uncertainty of 9/11 and an economic recession—Earnhardt Jr. was exactly that. A native North Carolinian with the right last name, an iconic sponsor, and a love for the sport’s history, “Junior” was classic NASCAR in a new look.

Clinging to what people most feared changing, racing fans embraced Earnhardt. In the early-aughts popularity surge, new viewers latched onto Earnhardt, too. NASCAR was America just as patriotism became a brand, and Earnhardt was who you cheered to be authentic.

As Earnhardt plans retirement at year’s end, familiarity, however, is not what NASCAR should look for. The sport needs what it’s never had.

Related Story: NASCAR: Earnhardt Retiring After 2017 Season

There’s an easy path to say Chase Elliott is Earnhardt’s natural successor, himself the son of a legend, himself coming to the Monster Energy Cup Series an Xfinity champion, himself Southern and traditional. But for all his talent, and all his appeal within NASCAR, Elliott does nothing to attract new audiences in a world that’s moved past seeing NASCAR as a down-home exercise in national pride.

One might point instead to Kyle Larson or Ryan Blaney. William Byron. Erik Jones. Yet their stories don’t gain traction outside of NASCAR, either. A young star might be interesting if you already like racing, but to the rest of the world, that doesn’t stand out at all. It’s tired. It’s been done before, and it’s being done everywhere.

To existing fans, someone like Elliott might be heir to the Most Popular Driver Award. Someone like Blaney might be exciting to watch. The non-viewing public, however, has already made a conscious choice not to watch the current product. That means younger versions of the usual cast of drivers won’t draw them in.

NASCAR’s next star must be someone we’ve never seen before, and they need to have crossover appeal. Someone with no interest in race cars must be able to see and take enough interest in a person to want to watch their day job. That requires a storyline to catch real media attention, outside the racing press.

Plainly, NASCAR’s next star must be black.

And not just black by skin color. Black by identity.

The exact person who those outside NASCAR would never expect to see in NASCAR is the exact person to attract those who never thought they’d be into NASCAR. In a sport bleeding its audience of traditional stock car fans, a potential pool of viewers can’t be ignored.

Consider Lewis Hamilton. With more than four million Twitter followers, Hamilton doubles Earnhardt’s count, and has just shy of eight times the reach of Elliott. He even exceeds Formula One rival Fernando Alonso in followers by almost two million.

Oct 23, 2016; Austin, TX, USA; Mercedes driver Lewis Hamilton (44) of Great Britain before the United States Grand Prix at the Circuit of the Americas. Mandatory Credit: Jerome Miron-USA TODAY Sports
Oct 23, 2016; Austin, TX, USA; Mercedes driver Lewis Hamilton (44) of Great Britain before the United States Grand Prix at the Circuit of the Americas. Mandatory Credit: Jerome Miron-USA TODAY Sports /

Hamilton’s social media presence also includes an Instagram account, itself with more than four million followers. NASCAR’s series-wide Instagram page has not even reached 700 thousand—about twice the tally of seven-time champion Jimmie Johnson.

As the first black driver to race in F1—let alone win Grands Prix and then its World Championship three times—Hamilton stands out. He’s been outspoken about his race, too, and become a polarizing figure for his lifestyle. Hamilton generates buzz outside of racing’s insular culture by running in famous circles, actively promoting himself online, and above all, being unexpected. Against the corporate backdrop of racing, Hamilton has tattoos, tries out new hairstyles, wears high-fashion sunglasses, and doesn’t downplay any of the “whats” that make up the “who.”

If you took Hamilton’s shirtless photos and asked people in public what they thought he did for a living, almost no one would guess, “race car driver.” That makes Hamilton precisely the kind of personality who can appeal to those with no interest in today’s motorsports archetype.

Hamilton isn’t the only black athlete captivating audiences. LeBron James is the second-most followed sportsperson on Twitter with some thirty million more subscribers than Hamilton, and is the second-most-endorsed. Like Hamilton, James is black, and like Hamilton, everyone has an opinion on James—whether adored for talent and service or despised for “The Decision.”

Of the top 100 athletes on Twitter by followers, twenty—including James and Hamilton—are black. Hamilton is one of just two racers (MotoGP’s Valentino Rossi the other), while Serena Williams is the highest-ranking woman. As Hamilton overachieves in popularity relative to motorsports, Williams overachieves relative to women’s sports.

Both do it as black athletes in traditionally white sports, and not by mere coincidence.

Meanwhile, fifteen of the top thirty athletes by endorsement money are black. Earnhardt ranks thirty-first.

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To reach outside the current fan base, NASCAR needs to do more than be its current self. The non-viewing public won’t care if Elliott, Jones, or Byron grow into Hall of Famers—that’s the kind of driver those who don’t watch NASCAR expect to see. It isn’t a story to them that someone started racing young, showed talent early, and ended up making good on the potential. That happens in every sport, everywhere.

It is a story to the outside world when someone breaks perception. Willy T. Ribbs showed up to auto racing in a limousine. He trumpeted himself as the best and dismissed his critics. He was suspended for punching out rivals. He even called out racism when he saw it.

That put Ribbs everywhere from the New York Times to the Disney Channel during his career.

A modern-day Ribbs must fill Earnhardt’s void, not because that driver would fill the void for those already here, but because that driver would bridge the gap to those who never were.

NASCAR mustn’t find the natural successor, but rather the least natural. The goal has to be crossover appeal: a driver for non-fans to get hooked in by, not a driver for current fans to switch over to. It would help to have someone who lives in the public eye, who speaks their mind, and who no one is left feeling indifferent toward.

But it’s imperative to have someone who defies stereotypes and turns the sport on its head. Only a black driver can truly do that.

In Earnhardt’s retirement, there’s a loss for existing fans. With those who have never cared, however, there’s an opportunity to turn the attention to someone who can re-brand—and reinvent—NASCAR. If the sport chooses familiarity in its next face, it will choose familiarity in its outcomes: empty stands and declining Nielsen ratings.

Indeed, the familiarity that boosted NASCAR to its peak is now the familiarity that will bite it hardest in a slump.

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Unfamiliarity. That’s how NASCAR’s next most popular driver succeeds Dale Earnhardt, Jr.