He's fiery.He's intense.
He has a burning desire to achieve.
Got one? Good, now put it back in the pile and forget it.
Do each of the previous apply to Mark Mark? No question. But, even taken together, they still don't come remotely close to conveying who this man is.
Mark simply crackles with intensity. The energy seems to sparkle from his fingertips, and he underscores it with the help of certain mannerisms. The pointed finger here, the caustic laugh there. And though each of those small gestures helps make his point, none is as effective as the man's eyes. It's like this: Mark's eyes just dance. They can be soft, hard, angry, compassionate, happy, frustrated, bemused, you name the emotion, in a matter of seconds, his gray blue eyes show it.
Because of those eyes and the presence they have, it's even possible, in conversation, to forget that Mark is, really, small. He is, remember, perhaps 5'6" and an almost wispy 135 pounds. But, despite that and the fact that Mark is into middle age -- 43 years old come January -- and, to all appearances unimposing, he is anything but. No, not hardly.
Mark didn't win a race in 31 Winston Cup starts this year.
Mark is, in a word, driven. How better to explain the fact that since 1989, he has won 32 races and never finished outside the top 10 in points? How better to explain the absolutely palpable anger he feels toward those who have implied that in this, his 19th and most difficult season, he no longer has what it takes to challenge for wins or a title?
"I may be semi-crippled for the rest of my life because I haven't let injuries heal properly before I got back in the car," he said a few minutes before practice last Saturday at Talladega Superspeedway. "But that's me, that's my commitment. As long as I race, racing will come first in my life -- that's almost like a sickness. If you want to find something negative to write about me, that I'm selfish or self-centered, you can find stuff to write about me, but don't you dare question my commitment or my will."
The emphasis is all his and extremely effective. Mark isn't one of those athletes who suffers the questioner, he seems to treat him with the same respect with which he wants to be treated. And as he brings you into the conversation and answers your question, it's perfectly clear, as his voice rises and his eyes narrow and he slams those few words and taps a finger on your knee, that he means business.
Mark is, of course, angry with those who doubt him in general and his performance in particular. If he doesn't win any of the final five races of the year, it will mark the first time since 1996 that he hasn't won a race. And for a fiercely proud man, that's not an acceptable state of affairs.
And yet, despite the fact that Mark spent the better part of the first half of the season ranked back in the 20s in points, here he is, with just those five races remaining, 11th in points. Any reasonable man, eyeing where he'd been and where he's heading, with four consecutive top-10 finishes, might find some comfort in turning around what could have devolved into a nightmare of a season.
Of course, Mark is no different than any of his fellow Winston Cup drivers -- he spouts all the usual pabulum about not being satisfied with not winning -- but, what sets him apart is, well, you believe him. He is, though he might not want to admit it, an emotional man, the kind of person who wears his heart on his sleeve. Just look at his eyes.
"This has been, no matter what, a sub-standard, sub-par year," he says quietly, when asked the very question about being satisfied with his year. "The only other year that I've been less competitive on the racetrack, the only year that compares to this was 1988, my first year with Roush."
Couple that decade's worth of excellence with a few injuries and the deaths of friends and family and, not least, the evolution of a son into a racer in his own right (9-year-old Matt Mark's career in midgets has begun to take off), and it's not unreasonable to think that his priorities might have shifted ever so slightly. And they have -- "Whether or not I ever win a Daytona 500 or a Winston championship," he said, "or whether or not I win another race, I did the best I could. I've done better than most kids from Arkansas" -- but don't for a minute think that his focus has wavered.
"I am obsessive and compulsive," he said. "When I retire, my yard will probably be unbelievable because I will obsess about it. That's me, I can't help it. But until I retire -- and be careful how you write this, but I am excited about stepping away from this commitment when the time comes -- this is what my obsession is."
