A pit crew loading a car at the NASCAR Michigan International Speedway, 44th Annual Pure Michigan 400, August 16, 2013.
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To see an African American at the wheel, 50 Cent would have to go to NASCAR's minor league, the Camping World Truck Series, where Wallace is the best hope of NASCAR's diversity program. (There are two women in the program and several Latinos, including Daniel Suárez and Sergio Pena.) "We have not had a breakout," says France of NASCAR's inability to produce a star who is not Caucasian. "But we are really close with the most talented African-American driver I have seen in a long time."
Wallace, who grew up in North Carolina and is known as Bubba, is barely 20 years old but carries the load without too much apparent stress. "It means a lot and it's a lot of weight, so I try to do the best I can," he says. "But I have to put it behind me and focus on racing." Last year, his father told the Orlando Sentinel that fans and event promoters had used racial epithets around him in the past, but Wallace seems to shrug these incidents off. He was invited to the 2012 BET Awards and walked the red carpet. "Nobody knew who I was," he laughs.
The biggest obstacle to a more diverse sport isn't necessarily race or gender; it's money. NASCAR's creation myth is built around the trials of hardscrabble moonshiners driving souped-up cars to evade the tax man. In reality, stock-car racing may be the most elite sport in America. To get into the game, all a teenager needs is about $100,000. "When you start at 15, you either have to be really good [and get sponsored] or have a lot of money," explains Wallace. (His parents were wealthy enough to stake him in the lower rungs until he got signed by Joe Gibbs Racing.) The financial meltdown only amplified the problem. When race teams had to make budget cuts, funding for development--NASCAR's best hope for attracting a more diverse group of drivers--took a hit.
Too bad, given that Danica Patrick turned this year's Daytona 500 into the Danica 500 when she won the pole position, driving her slime green GoDaddy.com Chevy around the track's 31-degree banked oval faster than all the boys. Patrick is a NASCAR diversity dream, a charismatic 99-lb. woman who can absolutely boss a 3,400-lb. stock car. She finished eighth in the race but caused a television-ratings spike. "You are going to see more and more girls getting into the sport," says Bill Race, business manager for driver Greg Biffle. "Unfortunately, if 100,000 kids are qualified and ready to race, they just don't have the money to bring to the table."
NASCAR's diversity ambitions are genuine--who wouldn't want to appeal to more customers?--but its cultural totems still trail its broader aspirations. At Daytona, two flags fluttered in the wind. One was the Stars and Stripes, the other the Confederacy's Stainless Banner, plus a sign that read, in part, Obama can kiss my ass. Most nonwhites at the race were track employees. This is a sport that, despite its best efforts, may still be whiter than ice hockey.
Playing It Out