Bryan Clauson taught me that it’s cool to be an eternal optimist
From 2007 to 2011, I worked at Motorsports Management International, the marketing agency that represented budding NASCAR driver and USAC favorite Bryan Clauson. My level of interaction with him during this time was high.
Grading his talent is a pointless exercise at this juncture. He was outstanding, without question, but his ability on the racetrack was secondary to what I saw from him off the track.
Bryan died earlier this week from injuries sustained during a crash at the famed Belleville High Banks, a track that — please pardon this out-dated, hackneyed phrase — separates the men from the boys. It comes to me as no surprise that he was leading the race at the time of the crash.
Of the heartfelt Tweets and think-pieces I’ve read — I’ve tried to consume all of them — the mention of his character off the track has been common. Somehow, I still think we’re underrating it.
I knew Bryan well during the time in which I worked with him. Against him, I played every conceivable basketball contest I could play — full-court, arcade pop-a-shot and fantasy. I was also around for what might be the lowest point of his driving career, which was the dissolution of his NASCAR trial with Chip Ganassi Racing. NASCAR fans today might not recall what occurred during his transition to Stock Car racing, but I can point to three ill-informed decisions that threw him off-course:
- There were two Nationwide Series crew chiefs on the CGR payroll at the time: Brad Parrott and Brian Pattie. CGR gave him Parrott, who is no longer employed, anywhere, as a crew chief. Pattie has since made the Chase three times. I literally think about what would have happened had Clauson been paired with Pattie at least once a week.
- CGR signed Dario Franchitti, which all but ended its driver development endeavors. Franchitti lasted just 10 races in the Cup Series.
- CGR allowed Kyle Krisiloff to buy unsold Nationwide Series races, which limited Clauson’s schedule to just 21 starts in 2008, his final season in NASCAR. Great job, Chip. Way to invest in your future.
In all the time I was around Bryan, he never showed one moment of cynicism or any semblance of feeling jaded by this weird, wild industry. He was an eternal optimist, grateful for what he’d been given. Mind you, he didn’t pay a dime to compete in NASCAR. He earned it, and seemed to have no desire to think he deserved more than what he received. He was a rarity.
For some, this will be a Santa Claus-level revelation, but the NASCAR industry as a whole is one of jealousy and bitterness, above all else. The poor are upset they aren’t rich, they rich are upset they aren’t richer and most are territorial. It isn’t a place for those that prefer to hope, dream or wield optimism like a hammer, combatting all the cynical weirdos walking around with hard cards around their necks.
I spent about an hour with Bryan at this year’s Chili Bowl, and our discussion felt as if we never went our separate ways. He told me of his plans to compete in 200 races in the span of a year. He knew it was, logistically, an insane concept — he named it the “Circular Insanity Tour,” after all — but he was so freaking happy about the fact that this was his life. He valued what he had. It was genuine. That’s how I’ll always remember him.
Bryan Clauson was a big, beautiful star in a sky lined with cynics. I’m deeply disturbed by his death, and I can’t fathom the toll its taking on his family, his fiancée and those closer to him than I was. But I’m really happy that someone like him existed in the first place, because it encourages me to wield optimism like a hammer.
