The article about Quarter Midget Racing by George Diaz for Orlando Sentinel Newspaper



Boys & Girls Start Your Engines!

By George Diaz
Sentinel Staff Writer

June 17, 2003

SAMSULA -- A full moon dots the black sky as drivers scramble for position. They clutch their steering wheels firmly in this fast-paced parade of cars, engines humming as they gather speed around the track.

Suddenly, there is trouble on Turn 3. Two cars collide, sending one of them spinning into a retaining wall of wires along the edge of the track. The driver appears unhurt, but instinctively, he looks around for Mommy or Daddy.

Then he starts crying.

Dad pulls him out of the car, unhooks his helmet and kisses the top of his head. An emergency paramedic jumps the short wall to make sure nothing hurts besides feelings.

All the cars are red-flagged to a stop until the situation gets sorted out, and the driver's car is dragged into pit road. Then a man positioned above the starting line drops the green flag again.

Kids are racin' again at the Lil' New Smyrna Speedway.

Spinning in circles at 40 mph around a 1/20th-of-a-mile track definitely stretches the boundaries of recreational sports for little ones.

But since Jan 1, 2001, anywhere from 60 to 80 kids, ages 5 to 15, gather at an adjacent track to the one where the big boys play to race quarter-midget cars (a miniature sprint car). Everyone is welcome: from clumsy beginners who play bumper cars, to kids with great potential, to the son of a NASCAR veteran with his own sponsors and Web site.

Whatever the experience level, the scramble of speed is more exhilarating than haphazardly kicking a soccer ball around the pitch or standing in right field daydreaming while a fly ball whizzes over your head.

For most folks, anyway.

"It makes me more nervous when she leaves the house on her bicycle," race dad Mark Goodrich said.

He is the "crew chief" for his 10-year-old daughter Mary Clare Goodrich ("just like the tire!"). Her quarter-midget car includes a few personalized fashion accessories: Tweety Bird holding a mallet on the front of the car, "but my favorite is Sylvester in the back," she said.

Mary Clare has been racing for four months. Goodrich, a divorced dad from Daytona Beach, brought Mary Clare to see the show one Wednesday night. She nudged his arm, asking whether she could take a spin. Daddy has a hard time saying "no."

He bought a used car and the mandatory safety equipment. "You can probably get in for $2,000 [without a trailer]," he said. "We're doing the best we can on a working man's budget."

And there was another critical investment: Signing Mary Clare up for lessons at Finishline Racing School.

It's a family business for Mike and Kristal Loescher. He has been teaching since 1988 after retiring as a NASCAR modified driver. Kristal, formerly Mike's "all-girl pit crew," wound up getting behind the wheel herself, making her racing debut in 1987, winning rookie of the year and finishing second in points in the Florida Modified division.

After moving to the Daytona Beach area in 1978, they set up a "big school" (adults) for racing. Their clientele included four-time Winston Cup champion Jeff Gordon -- then a 14-year-old kid driving sprint cars -- and Jamie McMurray, who emerged as a top rookie at the end of the Winston Cup season in 2002.

The Loeschers then decided to expand their scope of influence in 2002 shortly after the little ones started racing at Samsula. An introductory session is $200, allowing kids to test-drive a quarter midget before parents have to dig way deeper into their wallets.

School's in every Saturday morning. After a brief orientation, "Coach Mike" -- the kids following him like the Pied Piper -- puts stripes of masking tape down on the track as visual reference points. The stripes are essential to follow the "line" -- the spots along the track that give a driver the least amount of steering necessary to get the car through the corner. The kids then push the cars without the motors running, following the line set by Coach Mike.

The key is repetitive reinforcement, hoping that on race night -- without the aid of markers -- the kids will visualize the proper line.

Finally, it's time to rev up the motors.

Katy Muir, the Loeschers' catch-all assistant, gives the kids Q-tips to clean their ears. She then puts a small, foam roll in each ear. Coach Mike will use radio communication with each individual during his or her 10-lap session, just like NASCAR's big boys do on Sunday afternoons.

"Pick it up! Watch your line!" he tells Robbie Schneider, a student who started in the spring. "We're going green the next lap."

Practice runs are kept at 10 laps to avoid drops in attention spans and to ensure a smoother, more enjoyable run. Muir keeps a fan on the drivers after their runs while Mike and Kristal gather time sheets to evaluate every lap.

After the practice sessions, Mike Loescher gathers the kids in a semi-circle. He grabs an aerial picture of the track, and using Hot Wheels as props, he demonstrates where the trouble spots are for the kids -- whether they went too high or too low on the track.

Sitting in plastic chairs and sipping drinks, the kids listen to Coach Mike's on-the-spot analysis. His style is upbeat, managing to filter essential information without going over their heads. "You can go from a hero to a zero," Coach Mike said, "just like that."

There are no Little League parents in the stands. If Coach Mike hears an adult yelling at his kid, he gives him a fire suit and helmet. "Show me how good you are," Loescher tells him.

That usually gets him to shut up.

Everyone will gather back at the track in 10 days for Wednesday's race night.

This time, they'll be racing for real.

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Mary Clare is racing her scooter around the track, burning off nervous energy with the other kids before the races start at 7 p.m. Folks filter into the concession stands for the usual assortment of burgers, fries and hot dogs.

Zack Donatti arrives with his father, Tom, driving a trailer that includes the names of sponsors of Donatti Racing (mostly friends and business associates who chip in a couple of hundred bucks a year), and a picture of Zack.

The Donattis are hooked, big-time. Zack was struggling, and on the verge of quitting, until he signed up with the Loeschers. "We need help," Tom Donatti told them.

Zack became their first student. Within three weeks, he pushed himself to the front of the pack. Now Zack is the points leader in the Junior Honda division here and in Apopka, where there is another track for quarter midgets.

"You can see here safety is my main issue," Tom Donatti said. "Everything is top notch."

Donatti estimates his start-up costs between $3,000 and $3,500. They since have escalated to about $30,000 for a setup that includes two race cars. "Once you get hooked on it, you want more speed, and you start buying," Tom Donatti said.

Zack has justified his father's investment by winning 23 races to become the Junior Honda champion last season.

Kids race in eight divisions, starting at Junior Novice and progressing to Heavy 160 classification. There usually are qualifying heats in each division, then a final race featuring an average of six or seven cars. The prize is the competitive rush and a little sticker for the inside of the car.

Every Wednesday, a racer is picked randomly to drive around the track with a flag waving atop his car while someone sings the national anthem. "We all got five minutes for this country," said Bob Stoekel, president of the New Smyrna Quarter Midget Association.

Stoekel, whose sons Kyle (15) and Cory (14) compete in quarter midgets, is the point man on race night. About a half-hour before races begin, he grabs a microphone and goes over racing protocol from a small wooden tower above the track.

Ten minutes before the show, Stoekel gathers all the kids in the middle of the track for a group photo that will be put in the yearly program.

As the heats begin, Zack prepares for his first run, strapping on his helmet as his father offers last-minute instructions.

"Leave some room between you and the other car, you hear me?" he said.

Grandpa Dennis Kirsch gives Zack a thumbs-up as Zack clicks on the engine. Zack goes from the third starting spot on the inside to take the lead in his heat, and he holds on to win.

As he pulls into pit road, Zack gets a kiss from Dad and a "good-job" affirmation. Grandpa then slips a $20 bill in Zack's palm. "A little payola," Kirsch said.

Mary Clare is next. She struggles, qualifying third in her heat.

"I talked to Kristal, and she was squaring the corners," Mary Clare said before going off on her scooter again with a couple of friends.

After eating a granola bar, Zack gets into his car again for the final. He slices inside and takes the lead on the fifth lap, but as the cars go three-wide on a narrow turn, another driver bumps into Zack's car, bringing out a caution.

Zack tries to take the lead once the race resumes but can't get past a driver continually blocking him. Zack finishes second by a nose as Tom Donatti implores race officials to call an infraction.

"Are you guys going to do something about this?" he said. "This is ridiculous!"

Stoekel brushes off the passionate plea. "This happens in any sport when children and parents are involved," he said. "It's the heat of the moment, but folks usually calm down."

Zack goes to the family trailer and grabs a sip of Gatorade, not particularly bummed out over the circumstances. There's always next week, and there's still $20 tucked inside his race suit.

He's away from the track when Mary Clare -- after snacking on an apple and a peanut butter and butter sandwich -- stalls on the first lap of her final race. After a restart, she spins and is involved in a three-car accident. Nothing is bruised but egos. There have been no major injuries here since they started running in 2001.

But it's also the end of the night for Mary Clare. She grabs her scooter while her crew chief tries to repair the front end of the car that has a bend in it.

"As they say," Mark Goodrich said, "that's racin' "

George Diaz can be reached at gdiaz@orlandosentinel.com.

Copyright (c) 2003, Orlando Sentinel



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