Tucked between Poison and Power Station in any unabridged musical encyclopedia is a 1980s creation labeled Pop Will Eat Itself.

Don’t own any of their discs? Perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Fast forward two decades. If there is any institution showing the signs of self-destructive and cannibalizing behavior more glaringly than NASCAR, I can’t find it.

This week’s activities at Daytona International Speedway were a depressing commentary on what Nextel Cup Series racing has become, which has more in common with an arms race than stock car racing.

Forty-five cars reported for duty in Thursday’s Gatorade Twin 125 qualifying races. That meant everyone knew at the start of the afternoon that a whopping two would go home without participating in the Great American Race. And is there anyone at all acquainted with the twists and turns of our favorite sport who didn’t know Kirk Shelmerdine and Andy Hillenburg would be those two drivers?

The uninspiring likes of Derrike Cope, Larry Foyt, Mike Skinner and Kyle Petty essentially drove into today’s showcase event on cruise control. Not what the beachside corporate office types had in mind, I’m guessing.

Brian France, the new man in charge, did an admirable job pretending such. While he conceded in one of his many state of the sport speeches that the quantity of cars is its recent rock-bottom point, France reasoned that the quality of competition is at all-time high.

That’s a bit of verbal trickery if I’ve ever heard it. Sure, the number of different drivers winning races each season has accelerated through the roof.

If France’s words are true, it’s because there is no excuse for any of the five drivers affiliated with Jack Roush Racing not to win a race every year.

There’s no convincing reason why each of the four drivers connected with Rick Hendrick Motorsports shouldn’t take the champagne shower at least once. Well, maybe excluding under-age star-in-waiting Brian Vickers. He can stick to Gatorade and Coca-Cola.

And there’s absolutely no logical explanation why Dale Earmhardt Jr. and Michael Waltrip shouldn’t sweep the restrictor-plate races, why Richard Childress’ tandem Kevin Harvick and Robby Gordon shouldn’t contain their explosive tempers well enough to reach victory lane at least once a year, and why the multi-car operations of Felix Sabates, Roger Penske and Ray Evernham shouldn’t make a habit of sending at least one of their drivers to the podium.

So yes, Brian, we’re seeing a flurry of different winners, and that ought to be enough to bring us back to the recliner with beverage in hand every Sunday afternoon or Saturday night for the next 40 weeks. But I respectfully submit that the health of a racing sanctioning body is assessed more accurately by the total car count, by the relative competitiveness of the guys who aren’t running with the leaders every week, and by loyalty to its roots.

Single-car teams don’t have a prayer of running with the big dogs for more than one or two furlongs. It is nothing short of a miracle and a testament to his ability that Ricky Craven won at Darlington last March, and it is also no coincidence that when available testing dates and technical support from Pontiac ran out, so did the Tide team’s chances of winning anything but the Goody’s Headache Award.

And while I don’t subscribe to the popular notion that the person who suggested the overhauling of the Nextel Cup point system is demon-possessed, I do believe it will have a deleterious effect on mid-pack sponsorship and will create an even grander canyon between the haves and have-nots.

NASCAR is eating itself. Sadly, the right people don’t recognize it. Great wealth and power must dull the taste buds.

Fearless forecast

Speaking of fame and fortune, I won’t break any limbs here, but this is the year Dale Earnhardt Jr. finally wins the Daytona 500.

The parallels with his father’s career have become striking. In only four years, Earnhardt’s struggles and bad breaks in the big race are becoming legendary, even as he wins every other race the speedway has to offer. Don’t forget that it took the elder Earnhardt 19 tries to win the 500, though he’d conquered more than four dozen other events at Daytona.

That won’t happen to No. 8, whose mission this winter is crystal clear. There are rumblings that Earnhardt and teammate Michael Waltrip may not be getting along as swimmingly as in years past, and while that might loom as a disadvantage at a track such as Daytona, where drafting and teamwork come to the forefront, it speaks to how badly Earnhardt wants (and knows that he needs) to win this race.

He’s tired of seeing Waltrip, a driver with not even a fraction of his own natural ability, walking away with Daytona 500 hardware. Those championships are just as attributable to Earnhardt’s loyalty and drafting prowess as anything else.

This year, it’ll be Waltrip pushing Earnhardt, even if reluctantly, to the most important checkered flag of his life. So far.

Kalle Oakes is sports editor and can be reached by e-mail at koakes@sunjournal.com

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