Pray for Kyle
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Wisdom of Dads

I remember sitting in the middle of my hometown baseball diamond one hot summer day when I was a kid, head between my knees, glove over my head and tears of frustration at my inability to hit a curveball streaming down my dirty cheeks.

Nothing anyone could have said right then could possibly have suppressed my anger. I didn’t care if Dale Murphy himself appeared to tell me that he couldn’t hit a curveball when he was a kid. I was furious, and there was no changing it.


Then I smelled my dad’s cologne.

He crouched down beside me, snow cone in one hand, glove in the other, and sat on second base. He assured me my lack of prowess at hitting the “old number 2�?hadn’t marked the demise of my young career, and that we’d work on it until I ripped every last one of them.

We spent hours working on it, so much that my old man is probably incapable of throwing a baseball anymore. But you know what? I learned how to knock the crap out of a curveball that day, and seeing him beam with pride every time I did so made it obvious to me that a mutilated rotator cuff was totally worth it to him.

That’s a lot like Kyle Petty. Most of his NASCAR Winston Cup dreams having already been fulfilled, he sacrificed any remaining glory to help his son achieve his high-speed hopes and dreams.

Kyle tossed his own career aside to assure that Adam’s would prosper. He was perfectly content with that. It was obvious in the way he carried himself, how he tripped over himself with glee at how well his son was performing in a race car.

Then the unthinkable happened.

As the NASCAR Winston Cup Series steered to Loudon, New Hampshire, for Sunday’s New England 300, Petty faced the stiffest test of his lengthy career. For the first time, he returned to the racetrack that claimed his eldest son’s life and, sadly enough, a significant part of his own.

Kyle is a wonderful man, arguably the most giving, caring, thoughtful man ever to grace the racetrack. When his son was so tragically taken from him, a part of him died as well. Still, he gives far more to others than he gives to himself.

He doesn’t want to give to himself. He doesn’t want to feel whole. He’ll never get over Adam’s death, doesn’t want to. He feels that the day he wakes up and doesn’t hurt, that Adam isn’t as close to him as he once was.

That is so, so sad.

July 7 was one of the greatest father/son days in NASCAR history. Ricky Hendrick won the inaugural NASCAR Craftsman Truck Series race at Kansas City with his father on hand to celebrate.

Jon Wood finished fourth in that same race, his father Eddie calling countless times from Daytona to check in on his son’s progress. In one of the most poignant moments in NASCAR history, Dale Earnhardt Jr. won the Pepsi 400 that night. You know his daddy was smiling.

After the 400, I remember being so happy for all three of those kids. I remember thinking how awesome it must have been for those fathers to experience such a triumphant day with their sons. I called my father to discuss it with him, and during our conversation I remember thinking about Kyle.

He wanted moments like that with Adam so badly.

Sometimes life has its own curveballs.