NASCAR's Incoherent Discipline Policies on Display with Matt Kenseth Suspension

Once upon a time, the United States Supreme Court ruled that it could tell pornography when it saw it.

In Jacobellis v. Ohio (1964), Justice Potter Stewart wrote, "But I know it when I see it, and the motion picture involved in this case is not that."

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The less-codified NASCAR judiciary does that all the time, and after reviewing an incident involving drivers Joey Logano and Matt Kenseth in the Nov. 1 Sprint Cup race in Martinsville, Virginia, officials announced Tuesday that Kenseth would be suspended for the next two races.

Joe Gibbs Racing, Kenseth's employer, is appealing the decision.

Precedent is rarely cited in NASCAR decisions. Officials routinely claim the past has no role in decisions. They judge each case individually and independently, which often means the decision has little rhyme and less reason. Comparisons are futile.

The first time Kenseth and I ever spoke was in the 1990s at a NASCAR All Pro Series race at Volusia County Speedway in Florida that was as lively as Martinsville on Sunday. Freddie Query, a rugged North Carolinian, had bumped his way past Kenseth and been black-flagged. Kenseth's car took the checkered flag but was later disqualified, and the driver who won the race, Rick Crawford, never led a lap.

Even then, 20 years or so ago, Kenseth was cautious, careful with his words and weighing every option.

It's why Kenseth, a champion in 2003, winner of five races this year, low key with a dry wit, is the most unlikely of drivers for Imperial NASCAR to make an example of its vast power.

Kenseth may have considered being hit by Logano's teammate, Brad Keselowski, at Martinsville as some kind of final straw, but surely he had been plotting to derail Logano's championship hopes for two weeks. First was the spin-out in Kansas, from whose smoke Logano emerged merrily in Victory Lane, and then Kenseth thought Logano was rubbing it in by crowding him on pit road at Talladega, Alabama.

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The Keselowski contact was a case of his car being bounced into Kenseth's, but it seems plausible that Kenseth would have thought something along the lines of enough is enough.

After all, the subtle opportunities to ruin Logano's title run—blocking on pit road, racing him extra hard, incidental contact—were running out, what with someone wrecking the luckless Kenseth's yellow car week after week.

Nine laps down. Limping around the track. Here comes Joey, leading the race. Somebody ought to do something, pilgrim, but I won't, I won't...the hell I won't (Kudos to John Wayne in McLintock!).

I don't believe what Kenseth did was a crime of passion. He may have erred because his temper rose a little, but what he did was premeditated. Most in NASCAR are crimes of passion, driven by the moment. Maybe it was the premeditation that NASCAR could not abide.

This Chase, though, is NASCAR's monster, a cutthroat of a process that turns friend against friend, teammate against teammate and chicken bones against empty beer cans in grandstand skirmishes.

Kenseth must have thought, Well, Joey wrecked me. Kevin [Harvick] caused a wreck to end a race (Talladega) because his car wouldn't go, and it was the only way he could stay in the Chase. I'm out of it now. What's to stop me from putting Logano in the wall?

He found out Tuesday. NASCAR chairman Brian France trotted out in the morning to warm the Sirius XM audience with sober words of impending woe for Kenseth, but then the official word waited until after dark, the better to facilitate the convergence of TV shows being aired by partnered networks.

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Appeal notwithstanding, NASCAR is Dad, driving the family station wagon on a long trip, with the kids getting increasingly unruly in the back.

Now, Matt, don't you make me stop that car!

Danica Patrick intentionally wrecked another driver at Martinsville, too. She got fined $50,000 and docked 25 not-very-important-at-this-point Sprint Cup points (and, oh yes, probation), which brings us to my final point.

During the Chase, I've had it explained to me that there was no clear evidence that Harvick intentionally hit Trevor Bayne's car at Talladega. I've pointed out that there certainly was an abundance of circumstantial evidence.

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I've been told that Patrick's act of wanton lawlessness wasn't the same as Kenseth's because it had no effect on the Chase.

My question: Why does circumstance matter?

If a slugger belts a long fly ball that hits the pole in right, it isn't foul in regulation but fair in extra innings. The pitcher doesn't get five balls or the batter four strikes in Game 7.

NASCAR flexed its muscles on Kenseth, but ultimately its arbitrary bent will force undesired change. NASCAR's history is that of a ruling body that hates having to write things down, and this travesty of a Chase will force it grudgingly to make more of its actions defined by procedures.

It wasn't too long ago that the rallying cry was, "Boys, have it!

Watch what you ask for, NASCAR. You might just get it.

All quotes and info are taken from NASCAR media, team and manufacturer sources unless otherwise noted.

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