That's Racing: Busch shrugs off boos problem

Kyle Busch comes to Nashville and smashes a classic Gibson guitar to smithereens on national TV. What in the name of Chet Atkins was he thinking?

It seems that the more Busch wins, the more he loses — at least in terms of popularity.
That was certainly the case last Saturday night following his victory at Nashville Superspeedway. The boos were already raining down; they increased to a crescendo after Busch’s weird guitar-smashing antics in Victory Lane.

Busch said he meant no offense — he said he smashed the $2,000 hand-painted trophy guitar as a “rock-star style” celebration — but it looked ugly and juvenile. It looked, well, Busch-league.

When he’s not smashing guitars in Music City, Busch is taking potshots at Dale Earnhardt Jr., NASCAR’s most popular driver. Earnhardt, who replaced Busch at Hendrick Motorsports, loses and gets cheered. Busch wins and get booed. That really fries Busch’s bacon.

“He’s always had a chip on his shoulder for me,” Junior said in response to Busch’s barbs. “Anytime he gets an opportunity to throw a jab he’s going to do it. That’s just his personality.”

Busch has become the sport’s resident villain--the driver fans love to loathe.

“Let ‘em boo,” says Busch, who punctuates each victory with an in-your-face bow to the grandstand hecklers. “It makes me more motivated.”

Busch is arguably the most talented driver in NASCAR, but winning races hasn’t translated to winning fans. He seems to delight in his villainy. He goes out of his way to agitate.

A couple of weeks ago when Earnhardt got a new crew chief to try to generate better results, Busch remarked: “If Junior (still) doesn’t run well, he (the new crew chief) will be the ‘problem’ again. It’s never Junior.”

Another snipe: “You’ve got to make the most popular driver in the sport competitive, so you’ve got to do what you gotta do, I guess.”

Busch reminds me of a young Darrell Waltrip: bright and talented, but a brassy motor-mouth who’s purposely provocative.

Waltrip called it “stirring the pot” and admitted that he did it intentionally to draw attention. It was a way for a Good ol’ Boy from Nashville to get his name in the paper.

Eventually it got out of hand. When a crowd at Charlotte lustily applauded a hard crash by Waltrip — cheering even as he was loaded, dazed, onto an ambulance gurney — he realized he had gone too far.

“I didn’t want to be remembered as the most hated driver in racing,” he said. “The boos stung, even if I wouldn’t admit it.”

Waltrip worked hard to mend his image, and when he retired from driving nine years ago, he had morphed from heel to hero. During DW’s twilight seasons, cheers replaced jeers.

Busch shows no such rehabilitation inclination. He thrives on adversity and feeds off negativity. The more bitter, the better.

But as he grows older, so will his act.