Kyle Busch: One-Race Suspension, Probation, Fines. Is It Enough?

The talk of NASCAR this past weekend detracted from what should have been the story—the race for the Sprint Cup Championship. With two races left (Phoenix and Homestead), it’s a two-man race between Tony Stewart and Carl Edwards, with Edwards holding a slim three-point edge after finishing second to Stewart in the AAA Texas 500 last weekend. 

Yet it was Kyle Busch who stole the show, although for all the wrong reasons. 

First, no one questions that this kid is a monster talent. I’ve seen him do amazing things in a car. He just might be nearly as good as the legendary A.J. Foyt when he was in his prime—when he’s driving with a level head on his shoulders. Regrettably, his emotions far too often get in the way of his talent. 

Busch flat out drives on the edge of every lap, even when he’s 40 laps down and has no chance to win. There’s no quit in him. But maybe a little bit of “quit” would do him some good. 

Certainly a large dollop of humility would go a long way toward making NASCAR safer while at the same time making Busch a better, more consistent driver and winner. 

Maybe the first step in that process was what Busch forced NASCAR to do last Friday night as a  result of his actions in a Camping World Truck Series race at Texas Speedway: Suspend him. 

Busch rarely drives in the truck series, but there he was, door handle-to-door handle with Ron Hornaday, who himself was in the hunt for the season championship. 

The replays show Busch trying to get around Hornaday on the outside. When Hornaday got loose, he chased his truck up the track and traded paint with Busch. There was nothing belligerent about what he did. He wasn’t attempting to block Busch or crash him. He was following a driver’s instinct to save the truck by steering into the slide. 

Apparently Busch saw it differently, because a few laps later, while under caution, he drove his truck into the rear end of Hornaday, turned him around and sent him head-on into the concrete retaining wall, effectively ending both their nights, striking a blow to Hornaday’s chances for a championship. 

Most of us have experienced road rage during our daily commutes to and from work: We've taken offense when someone cut us off or pulled out in front of us, forcing us to slow down, or when they took that parking space we had our eye on.

We frown, mutter an obscenity under our breath, flip him off as we pass him, wonder where a cop is when we need him. We don’t act with malicious intent to do bodily harm by forcing the other car into a tree, a telephone pole or a concrete freeway barrier. 

After the race, a heated Busch, still believing he’d done nothing wrong, told viewers he’d been wrecked several times over the previous few weeks, he was tired of it, and so he was justified in pushing back, seeking payback—retribution for wrongs done him by others—from a driver innocent of any wrongdoing in previous weeks, let alone Friday night. 

It was typical Kyle Busch, painting himself as the aggrieved victim, with absolutely no accountability for his actions, let alone remorse. 

If Hornaday had been taken by stretcher to a waiting ambulance with serious, life-threatening injury, would Busch have told the viewers that Hornaday had gotten what he had coming for his audacity in swapping paint?

Why should it make any difference that Hornaday walked away uninjured? Wrong is still wrong, and it was up to NASCAR to, well, NASCAR couldn’t make it right, but they had to try to prevent future similar wrongs from taking place. 

It wasn’t until Busch spoke with his Cup car owner, Joe Gibbs, and after NASCAR held a closed door meeting with him, telling him that he would sit out the remainder of the weekend, that he showed any contrition. 

Sunday morning Busch issued an apology that read like a press release, leaving one to wonder if he’d written it, let alone read it himself. 

Did anyone ever believe for a second that Michael Vick’s apology about his dog-fighting ring being wrong was sincere, or was I alone in thinking he merely read from a script, prepared by someone else, parroting the words he knew were required in order to be allowed to again play in the National Football League?

That’s what happens when someone acts as Busch acted Friday night. He makes it difficult for us to take his repentance seriously. At this point, after the fact, we know he’d rather this all go away and that he wants to get back to the business of driving the number 18 M&Ms Toyota. 

But what NASCAR and Mars and race fans want and need to believe is that Busch is sincerely sorry, beyond just saying the words, for what he did to Ron Hornaday, to Joe Gibbs, to his sponsor and to the reputation of NASCAR as a family sport. Because actions speak louder than words. 

No one wants to see a vicious spearing at an NFL game that ends a great receiver’s career; nor do we want to see a major league hitter take a 95 mph fastball to the noggin after showing up a pitcher his previous at-bat by standing to admire the arc and distance of his home run. 

Yet this is the sort of behavior we’ve come to expect from Busch. He gets irate and doesn’t hesitate to cry “foul” when someone bump-drafts him out of the way to get to the winner’s circle; but the next week, he’ll do the same thing to someone else and smile and say, “That’s racing.”

We’ve seen him turn someone around on pit road after a race for not racing him clean, even as he doesn’t always race someone clean in return. 

Granted, in today’s modern NASCAR era, a lot of drivers show little respect to other drivers; but what Busch did to Hornaday last Friday night, while the field was under caution, was unconscionable. NASCAR needed to do something to get his attention, since putting him on probation for a few races, as they’ve done in the past, wasn’t likely going to achieve the desired result. 

Love him or hate him (and most fans are of the latter variety), Busch is colorful. But he needs to understand that NASCAR does not need Kyle Busch. The sport was successful long before he came along, and it’ll be successful long after he’s gone. 

Yesterday’s race was as exciting a race as I’ve seen all year long—without Busch in the field. With the dazzling duel between Stewart and Edwards, I didn’t miss hearing Busch’s name called out. There were plenty of other race stories to keep me entertained for the afternoon. 

There was Jimmie Johnson’s drive for a sixth consecutive championship—stick a fork in him; he’s all but mathematically done.

There was Casey Kahne's and Jeff Gordon’s strong pushes to the front late only to fade.

There was Greg Biffle’s strong start, disappointing mid-race, but encouraging finish, as well as Jeff Burton rolling the dice on fuel mileage in an effort to steal the win away from Stewart, who had dominated all day. 

Kyle who? Petty? Isn’t he the son of NASCAR legend Richard Petty? 

During the prerace, Rusty Wallace held Busch partially accountable for his actions, but his words lost some bite when he went on to say that he wished the fans could see Kyle Busch away from the track. Wallace then depicted Busch as personable, funny, donating his time to children and charity. 

Yes, I’ve seen him in a number of NASCAR-related commercials and he does reasonably well for someone who is not trained for work in front of a camera. But he’s being paid to be a spokesperson. Joe Gibbs Racing doesn’t pay Kyle Busch to act like an idiot out on the race track. 

That Busch donates his time to charity and children is fine. It’s as it should be. Athletes, along with the “haves” in the world, should give something, if only their time, to the “have-nots” in the world. But it’s not a free ticket to lose your temper, to drive someone head-on into a retaining wall.

What was he thinking? Or was he thinking? 

Perhaps he was thinking that Kyle Busch is the face of NASCAR.

If so, he couldn’t be more wrong.

Football, hockey and basketball all have penalties for unsportsmanlike conduct, up to and including suspension. Why should NASCAR be any different? 

Wallace went on to say that he thinks Busch is scared right now, uncertain of future penalties from NASCAR and unsure of whether he’ll have a job with Gibbs next year. 

Busch should be scared. He crossed a line—a line NASCAR later said they would recognize when they saw it. Buschs’ words immediately after the incident proved he has little regard for the safety of others or any semblance of conscience. It’s a shame it took NASCAR telling him he was parked for the remainder of the weekend for him to realize the seriousness of his behavior. 

Kyle Busch should’ve thought about the repercussions before he crossed the line. Anything he now says, any action on his part, will only come across as contrived and insincere, as necessary to getting back behind the wheel of his car.

Rusty Wallace said it best: It’s going to be a long, hard road to win back the trust of his fellow drivers, NASCAR and fans alike. 

Yes, we’re all guilty of acting rashly in the heat of any given moment, with little or no forethought. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be held accountable for our poor judgment, that we shouldn’t try to do better next time.

We’d all be better people, and a much healthier society, if we learned a little humility in the face of some of the dumb things we sometimes do. 

It’s difficult, living in these bags of flesh, segregated as we are. It’s easy to think we’re special, the center of the universe. 

But guess what? We’re not so special. The world was spinning long before I was born and it’ll be spinning long after I’m gone. And during the time I am here, it will never spin around me. 

I’ve had my share of disappointments in my life, had my heart broken a few times and broken a few of my own. It wasn’t the end of the world. I’m still here, and the last woman whose heart I broke is no doubt happier without me. She should thank me, but she won’t. 

Do I want to make a mark in the world, leave behind a legacy? Sure. But I care more about a world I won’t live to see. I try to not put myself ahead of someone else because you know what? None of us gets out of this world alive. 

It doesn’t matter how many races Kyle Busch wins or how many trophies he has in his den at the end of his career. Nor does it matter how much business I help my company win, or how many novels I have published. No one brings their legacy with them when they depart this world. 

Maya Angelou: “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 

What we (all of us) leave behind will, in time, become a distant memory. A hall of fame can keep alive only accomplishments. But a hall of fame should not be the total measure of a man’s life. 

I’m awed by what Ty Cobb did between the chalk lines of a baseball field; but closer inspection reveals that Cobb was racist, a philanderer and wife-beater, and once pistol-whipped to death a man he later claimed tried to rob him at knife-point. 

50 years after his death, Cobb is merely a ghost in a record book—one of baseball’s nine immortals (the first of the first nine players inducted into the Hall of Fame). Today, biographies on Cobb’s life—his antics both on and off the field—read like fiction. 

But in time, the same thing will happen to Kyle Busch. Should he make it into NASCAR’s Hall of Fame, he’ll eventually become simply a face associated with a car number. 

No one is immortal. 

Kyle Busch needs to learn that he is not the face of NASCAR. NASCAR does not need Kyle Busch, or any driver who behaves poorly on or off the track. 

If Busch doesn’t return to Joe Gibbs Racing next year, if he never drives another Cup car, it won’t be the end of NASCAR, nor will it be the end of Kyle Busch. Life goes on. 

Mars, his car’s sponsor, wrote to Gibbs to express their disappointment in Busch’s on-track actions. With Mars being a candy company, the lion’s share of Mars’ customer base is children, and Mars is right in not wanting their product associated with a hot-head who will use a one-ton lethal weapon with murderous intent. 

That’s right: murderous intent. 

How would the law treat you if you drove a fellow motorist into a concrete barrier and cost them their life? 

How does vehicular manslaughter sound? 

The trouble with Busch, and yes all of the drivers in NASCAR, is that the cars are so safe today, they all think they’re invincible. 

Guess, what, you’re not. Dan Wheldon found that out a few weeks ago. 

Busch put Gibbs in an untenable position. He could lose the Mars sponsorship if he doesn’t deal with the Busch situation to Mars’ satisfaction. 

If I’m Gibbs, guess who I’m going to please? 

On Sunday, before the Texas race, Gibbs was non-committal when asked if Busch’s job was on the line, saying only that they were working to do the “right thing.” It’s interesting to note that a viewer poll showed that 55 percent of respondents thought the right thing was to fire Busch. 

Joe Gibbs is a highly-principled man. He’ll do the right thing after weighing all the evidence and considering the potential fallout of any decision he reaches.

And NASCAR may not be done with Kyle Busch—the one-race suspension may only be the first. It wouldn’t surprise me if they sat him out the remaining two races, and frankly, I think they should.

If Joe Gibbs doesn’t fire Busch, I also think he should be heavily fined. 

It’ll be interesting to see how this plays out over the next few days—whether Busch’s season is done and whether he’ll be back with Joe Gibbs Racing next year. 

I’m all for giving second chances; but honestly, it’s not like Busch hasn’t been hauled into a NASCAR trailer for a heart-to-heart before, or been given probation. Friday night, Busch pushed the envelope, and NASCAR needed to do more than slap his wrist. Maybe a suspension will get his attention—and the longer the suspension, the greater the chances of keeping his attention. 

Bottom line— I’m not at all surprised by the suspension issued. Nor am I surprised by the probation and fine tacked on. I’ll be more surprised if Joe Gibbs brings him back for another year.