Columnist Ron Kantowski: Back in the buffet line main course is a beef

Monday, Nov. 22, 2004 | 9:46 a.m.

Ron Kantowski is a Las Vegas Sun sports writer. Reach him at ron@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4088.

As he sped under the checkered flag to finish fifth and clinch the Nextel Cup championship by the closest margin in history Sunday, it was apparent by the reaction at the NASCAR Cafe at the Sahara hotel-casino that Kurt Busch already was cultivating new fans in his hometown.

Of the nearly 200 patrons who filled the local NASCAR watering hole to capacity, I counted, oh, about nine or so who were cheering for Busch.

Las Vegas, you should be ashamed of yourself.

This was supposed to be a viewing party to root home the hometown hero, at least according to the news release, but it was stunning to hear the majority of the crowd cheering against Busch. It would be like going to a local sports bar to watch the UNLV basketball team play for the NCAA championship only to find nearly everybody there cheering for Duke.

"I think if we were to obtain the championship and bring the trophy back to Vegas, people would be more worried about where the next buffet line was or where they could get some free slots versus hoisting the championship trophy with me," Busch said during a national teleconfence last week.

Well, now he will have a chance to prove his theory.

Take that, all you Dale Earnhardt Jr. fans. Hope you enjoy the prime rib.

As I wrote in this space a couple of weeks ago, winning the Nextel Cup is arguably every bit as difficult as winning the NCAA championship. Yet Busch, who graduated from Durango High and cut his racing teeth on the local Las Vegas bullring, is nowhere near as popular in his hometown as the Rebels of the early 1990s, only one of whom (Greg Anthony) grew up in the shadow of the Strip.

To me, that's harder to understand than Ward Burton with a head cold.

"Looking around here, every time we cheered for Kurt it was like we were outsiders," said Gary Tabberner, an engineer at Southwest Gas who was sitting at a table -- the only table -- that cheered every time Busch's No. 97 Sharpie Ford passed a guy named Ricky, Rusty or Dale. "I don't understand it ... because this (Busch's championship) is just phenomenal."

Tabberner's fellow race and Busch fans included his wife Rhonda and her co-workers Melissa Allison and Cindi Thornton, all part of the management team at Las Vegas' Star Nursery. If their place of employment sounds familiar, than you might be a Kurt Busch fan, too. Star Nursery was his sponsor when he won the NASCAR Southwest Series championship a few years back to catch the eye of racing people such as Jack Roush, his Nextel Cup car owner.

"I know him, I know him," Allison said, waving her hand back and forth in front of her, as if she had just seen Brad Pitt stroll by on his way to the Casbar Lounge. Allison dabbed at a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. "When we got here, we were the only ones here cheering (for Busch)."

Early in the race the themed restaurant was eerily quiet as the cars jockeyed for position and the NBC announcers calculated and re-calculated the points as if they were a bar tab. On lap 91, Busch was running second, still in charge of his destiny, as the pundits like to say (only they add the word "own" for some reason), when NBC cut away to yet another Stacker 2 commercial.

A few moments later it cut right back, showing Busch's car swerving down the pit lane without its right front tire. The place erupted as if Larry The Cable Guy had just walked in with his pal Jeff Foxworthy.

Git-R-Done? You might be a real optimistic redneck if you thought Busch was going to bounce back from this miscue.

The Star Nursery gang grew increasingly quiet as their hero dropped back to 28th place and third in the championship, 55 points behind the lead at one point. It got worse a few laps later when Busch endured the worst pit stop since Tom Cruise in "Days of Thunder." It was like watching monkeys trying to ... er, spike a football, or whatever Randy Quaid's character said to describe the lack of choreography on the pit lane.

The Star Nursery women buried their heads in their hands.

But in stock car racing, it's not over until it's over, and sometimes even after it's supposed to be over. Busch kept the wheels on and battled back to where he needed to be before a late yellow flag stretched the race four laps beyond the 267-lap distance, which only extended the anxiety for Busch's fans in Las Vegas.

"Kurt's gonna be here in two weeks," Allison said after she was through poking holes in a rudimentary voodoo doll that had the car numbers of Jeff Gordon and Jimmie Johnson, Busch's two closest pursuers in the championship, on it. "I'm going to show him the bruises on my hands from clenching my fists so tight."

Around the corner at the bar, Mike Holak of Las Vegas flashed a smile from under the brim of his No. 97 Rubbermaid (one of Busch's sponsors) cap. He was surrounded by Dale Earnhardt Jr. fans who also were fervently supporting their favorite driver's sponsor (Budweiser). As well as Carl Edwards' sponsor next year (Crown Royal).

"Aww, they just jumped on the bandwagon after Dale Sr. died," Holak said about America's love affair with the No. 8 car driven by his son. "And the old man was the dirtiest driver who ever lived."

It should be noted that Holak whispered that last part as he if were selling arms to the Contras.

A guy wearing a new Harley Davidson jacket and a not-so-new hairstyle (a graying mullet) walked by, waving his hand in disgust as he turned his attention from the big screen.

"Anybody but Busch," he said, sounding like a frustrated Democrat.

Two young women seated at the bar with their blonde hair pulled back in ponytails through the rear openings of their Earnhardt Jr. and Ricky Rudd caps looked a lot more approachable, so I asked them why all the contempt for Busch.

"Because he's not aerodynamic," said Jenny Turner of Los Angeles, using her index fingers to push her ears out to mimic Busch's.

"He's just too young," said her friend Marlo Schofield. "Plus last year, he showed attitude toward ... "

"Jimmy Spencer?" I asked.

"Yeah, Jimmy Spencer," Schofield said, noting Busch's celebrated run-ins with the NASCAR journeyman last summer that turned most of the NASCAR nation against the young Las Vegas driver.

By then, Schofield and Turner were nearly alone at the bar. Midway through the race, the ticker at the bottom of the screen said Cajon Pass on I-15 was closed due to snow, so they figured it was going to be a while before they made it back to the San Fernando Valley.

Schofield said if she didn't make it to work this morning she was going to be in big trouble. She's a probation officer and said two Tony Stewart fans were supposed to report to her first thing today.

Don't sweat it, I told her. If you don't arrive on time, you can always blame it on Kurt Busch.

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