McLaurin: Burnout competition lives up to namesake

A BURNOUT COMPETITION in racing is like the NBA’s slam dunk contest, only sillier. It’s a waste of gas, tires and engines. And for the guys who have to prepare the cars, it must be a great test of patience.

At least in the NBA, a dunk requires a degree of skill, and it’s fun to watch those guys try to outdo one another once a year. But how many double-tomahawk, behind-the-back half gainers with a twist to do you see in games?

A burnout, in its essence, requires holding your left foot on the brake, your right on the accelerator, and turning the steering wheel. (“I’d like to thank my personal trainer, who gave me the leg strength ... “)

Last week at Lowe’s Motor Speedway, a.k.a. the Barnum & Bailey Circus of Auto Racing, five drivers took part in the inaugural Pennzoil Burnout Contest. Let’s hope it will be the last.

I’m sure there are fans who enjoy a Goodyear roast, but they’re probably the same ones who like to watch the “Hey, Look At Me” end-zone dances so popular in the NFL. And don’t mind going home reeking of tire smoke.

I appreciate that NASCAR’s racers have sort of voluntarily retired the Polish Victory Lap of the late champion Alan Kulwicki out of respect. That was a legitimate, unique celebration. But after you’ve seen one burnout, you’ve pretty much seen them all.

There is nothing wrong with adding your own touch to a victory. Carl Edwards has his flip. Kyle Busch’s flourishing bow worthy of a Spanish Grandee is just right in the context it’s usually offered — amid a chorus of boos.

I even enjoyed watching Fat Tony Stewart wheeze his way up the starter’s stand to retrieve the checkered flag. That, at least — will he make it or won’t he? — had an element of drama.

And having your teammates come out to do the Matterhorn number on the fence alongside you when you win gives them a chance to celebrate, too.

But, for goodness sakes, fellows, let’s not mistake celebrating for showing off.