Saturday, Jun. 30, 2007

Season begins anew, minus some friends

By Jody Moore, Hydro.commentator

The Stanley Cup has been awarded, the NBA championship decided, and NASCAR is getting ready for its mid-season party.

And over in Evansville, Ind., the ABRA fleet is finally stretching its legs in competition form. It's the moment we've all been waiting for since the awesome climax of last season. There are lots of great things going on in the pits and in the camps of teams that didn't make the haul to Indiana, but before I get to that, I want to take just a few minutes and pass along some thoughts about a few friends in the sport that won't be joining the fleet anymore. In early November, we were still breathless from the end of the season when I got word that Troy McIntyre of Kennewick had been hospitalized for a blood clot in his lungs. He'd had a seemingly routine surgery on his Achilles' tendon earlier that week. However, he passed away later that day after heart failure. McIntyre was a fixture at the Columbia Cup races, but it was in the R/C Unlimited racing community that he was most well-known. When we first met, Troy was racing his version of the 1985 Frank Kenny Toyota. He later went on to campaign the Winston Eagle's "Lobster" boat before turning his skills toward boat building. Troy was a big part of the R/C Unlimited organization and a good friend. Back in the days when testing was commonplace on the Columbia, we had a little network of people who always seemed to be tuned in to when the teams were going to show up. Troy was an integral part of that network, and probably single-handedly responsible for me skipping more classes in high school than anyone else I know. (Yes, I'm that geeky.) Last year, some of you may recall my writing an article about an R/C unlimiteds after attending a race in Ellensburg with my boys. If I ever had a reason to think that R/C racing was cool, it was because of Troy. His enthusiasm for the sport, his sharp wit and his habit of speaking his mind and not pulling any punches will all be sorely missed. Last year, I waffled about going to Detroit and couldn't get things together. I later published a column stating that I had every intention of going to Madison this year, and maybe hitting Evansville as well. Those are two races that I am dying to go to. That column sparked the last e-mail exchange I had with Joe Rood, the quintessential ambassador of the Evansville Regatta and long recognized as its voice over the local PA system. Rood, ever the ambassador, was the first to pop off an e-mail and let me know that if I took the time to visit Evansville, he's make sure I got the VIP tour and my first cold one while I was in town. We agreed that it'd be nice to finally meet face to face.

Unfortunately, Joe passed away in mid-February, and that cold one will have to wait. The Internet has made the world a much smaller place and helped paved the way for relationships such as the one I had with Joe and others in places I've never visited. I was excited to perhaps finally meet him, so now I feel a sense of loss. But for the folks in Evansville, the impact is much, much deeper. Joe was involved in everything around town, from the race to animal conservation to the Shriners Circus. A Waterfowl USA project has been set up in his memory. Some of my closest friends are people that I have met over the Internet thanks to common interests or experiences. And few were closer than Paul Scurlock of Detroit. Though we never met, Paul and I shared a common industry -- newspaper writing, and a love for all things sports, motorized or otherwise. He never occupied one of the "glamour jobs" during his time at the Detroit News, such as columnist or editor, but unlimited racing never had a higher profile media figure pounding its drum than Paul. To a lot of us, Paul WAS the Detroit News. I'd bet other sports got the same treatment. Paul was a pretty big ball fan and used to enjoy calling me (and probably a few others as well) so we could hear the timely crack of a bat or some other clue as to where he was and what he was covering. He ate, drank, and slept sports in a way I could only dream of. It was his absolute passion. When I attended the Coke 600 in Charlotte, N.C., several years ago, I called Paul from the stands as the green flag waved, finally with something to let him listen to. I don't think we actually talked because we were drowned out by the sound of 43 big-block motors screaming by. But he got the point. A few weeks later, he reciprocated at an Indy car event, then called me during qualifying from Madison so I could get my hydro fix by cell phone. Paul and I never met, but we regularly called each other to talk shop and trade stories and see how things were going. If I hadn't talked to someone, he had, or (rarely) vice versa. Paul was on the underside of every scoop to be had, and he loved it. We were supposed to get together last year between Atomic Cup and Seafair because my house in Ellensburg was roughly halfway between courses. He had to cancel his plans to head west because of the cost of it all, which I recognize as well. That's what has kept me out of Indiana for so long. But we were definitely going to get together this year. In late April, Paul suffered a massive heart attack and died. I still have his cell number programmed into mine, and it's hard to resist calling sometimes when the news gets interesting or when I just need somebody on the level to shoot the breeze with. I've nominated him to find Joe wherever he's at and collect on my cold one. So it's time to go boat racing again, and I couldn't be happier. But it's tinged with a little bit of sadness for those who aren't with us anymore and for the memories of what was and the thoughts of what could have been. All three were taken before their time. So I'll be thinking about those guys as the season unfolds, wishing they were here to enjoy it all with us again. And in their honor, I think it's time to go enjoy it all.

Cheers, guys. We all miss you.

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