It probably seems as if I have written an inordinate amount about NASCAR.

Any other suggestions?

First of all, it is my strongest field of expertise, having toiled for two decades at the great speed palaces of the land.

More importantly, when I watch a stock car race, I don’t already know who is going to win it. There’s no one in the stands, and this is by design. NASCAR makes a lot of money from TV and is determined, by hook, crook, jaws of life or jet dryer, to get that schedule on TV, and that is why a race is scheduled for tonight (Monday), Tuesday and Wednesday. Throw in Xfinity and Truck, and by Wednesday, if by some miracle it doesn’t rain much, the sport will have run seven races in a span of 10 days.

It’s the Jerry Lewis Telethon of sports, particularly in as much as Jerry is no more.

If the good Lord’s willing and the novel coronavirus does not overrun the race cars, it is entirely possible in the not too distant future that grandstand gates will reopen after a light dusting of WD-40 on the rusting locks.

As mathematically impossible as this may seem, the Coca-Cola 600 took roughly a week last night.

The last tactical call as disastrous as Alan Gustafson’s decision to pit Chase Elliott’s Chevrolet with two laps to go, at oh-dark-30 this morning, was a pitch-out on a squeeze play, but I don’t recall the time and place.

The strenuous propagandists of the TV booth pointed out that Elliott was “damned if you did” and “damned if you didn’t,” and there is truth to the notion that if he hadn’t pitted, others would’ve, and when he did, others didn’t. With two laps to go, he i give up the lead, especially since passing at the front of the pack was a rare and precious thing.

C’mon, man!

In the greatest miracle of all, I had picked Keselowski to win on the radio show that lets me talk on stations across the state on most Friday nights. To my credit, I had considered the matter. Sometimes I pick my winner based on the first driver who enters my mind, and I don’t really think my innate knowledge is much better than picking a number out of a hat. I am trained in describing what already happened. Furman didn’t offer a prophecy major during my college years.

For a few minutes, Jimmie Johnson finished second, but then his Chevrolet was disqualified for something related to the alignment of his car’s body on its chassis.

I picked Keselowski because he’s smart, and that comes in handy over the course of a long day’s journey past midnight. His victory was close to what I imagined, and the long race required intense attention, which I maintained with the assistance of a couple mixed beverages in the responsible safety of my home.