Bungee jumping is one thing. Taking a flying leap off a cliff while wired for sound so everyone in the world can listen in and evaluate your comments, that is another.
Same goes for listening in on a secure helmet frequency to whatever springs from the mouth of an NFL quarterback in the heart-pounding rush before, during and after a sack. That can't be too complimentary, for opponents and teammates alike.
Unfair to hold a person accountable at a time like that. Life and limb are at stake. Emotions are at full boil.
And this is why we shouldn't hold Tony Stewart accountable for calling Dale Earnhardt Jr. a "no-talent SOB."
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That's what came whistling over the scanners at last week's race in Phoenix, and over the ABC airwaves, too. With the help of YouTube replays, the echoes are following all the way to Homestead this weekend.
Stewart's outburst, delivered after the cars had stopped spinning from a nine-car wreck caused by Junior, was meant for his crew to hear, but there is no privileged information in NASCAR, the most fan-friendly of sports organizations.
There is no more privileged reputation, either, than Dale Jr.'s. In the midst of a 56-race losing streak, he remains the most popular driver.
And here's what makes racing different. On Wednesday, before a corporate autograph fest at Office Depot's massive Boca Raton headquarters, Stewart emphasized how much he likes Junior, too.
"The part that's disappointing is everybody is making a big deal about it," said Stewart, who stands fifth in the Sprint Cup standings, higher than anyone could have guessed in his first season as an owner/driver.
"That's the heat of the battle. I've always gotten along well with Dale Jr. When you're in a situation where you know you're going to lose points and it's going to affect your season and your standings, anybody who is a competitor at all is going to get emotional. People focus too much on the little stuff that isn't near as big as reality."
Is Earnhardt as eager to climb into Tony's reality, where nothing that's said under the pressure of race day is too nasty to be wiped away by a smile? Stewart says so.
"I saw him after the race and we were fine," Stewart said. "He asked me if I was mad at him and I said, 'No, I'm mad at the situation.'"
That won't be good enough, of course. Fans who think Stewart is whiny and doesn't own up to doing anything wrong on a race track will continue to think that. Fans who see Dale Jr. as a victim of bad equipment or, in this case, an oil leak that stole control of the No. 88 car, will solidify their stand as well.
And come February, at Daytona, Stewart and Earnhardt will be drafting together again.
None of this makes much sense in another setting or another sport. NASCAR has a way, though, of vicariously planting fans right inside the cars with their favorite drivers. The further leap inside their helmets is a technological wonder, listening in by radio to communications with crew chiefs and spotters, but it's more fantasy than anything else.
None of us will know what it is to sling one of those rolling rockets through traffic, expecting every now and then to go flying and tumbling and crumpling across the asphalt and into a wall.
Stepping into one of the race simulators that dozens toyed with Wednesday does not show a person how that feels, or instruct them on which words are appropriate to cut through the constant, high-wire tension of race day.
As for hearing sparks fly on a NASCAR scanner and equating it to a rush-hour drive on I-95, don't even try.
It's not a fair comparison, for any driver.