Ward Burton - A Fighting Chance

McClure says he needs resources to hire a few key people to give his operation more depth; Burton figures the team needs to take advantage of the technology used by other teams.

"I don't think the cars have ever been on a seven-post rig or a shaker," Burton says. "You can't compete anymore until you get to that level."

Burton is in the garage, visiting with the crew as they ready the car for the final practice session before Thursday's 150-mile qualifying race.

The car has been slow down the straight and won't turn in the corners. Other than that, it is about perfect.

"We got behind," says the driver. "We are working on things at the track that we should have had solved during testing. During testing, we were working on things that should have been taken care of in the shop.

"It's not that these guys aren't good and that they don't work hard," Burton says. "But looking at where we are now, we would have been better off just buying a car from [Richard] Childress that had a lot of these issues already taken care of."

As the crew fiddles with suspension settings, Burton walks to the window to talk to fans watching the activity in the garage. Almost immediately, the group grows from two or three to a half dozen, each one passing a hat or ticket stub through the window for an autograph.

One woman, with nothing to offer for a signature, bends down next to the window so Burton can reach through the opening to autograph the back of her shirt.

He remains a fan favorite, especially to those who are attracted to his good looks, laid-back style, and Southern charm.

But there is another Ward Burton. This one is competitive and intense, stubborn and constantly pushing, unwilling to accept anything but the best from himself and the team.

He doesn't like it when things don't meet his high expectations.

"I get angry and frustrated," he says.

His brother Jeff, driver of the No. 31 Cingular car for Richard Childress Racing, is concerned about his older brother if all the pieces at Morgan-McClure don't come together.

"Ward is back in the show," says Jeff, "but I want to see him get in a position where he can compete. The enjoyment level won't be there if he can't compete . . . I hope the team and he can find a way to be successful. If not, then I'm going to wish he wasn't here . . ."

"Can you race to the front tomorrow?" a fan asks Ward as he prowls the garage.

"I'm going to have to," he answers.

Burton swings his lean frame through the window of the car and settles down in the seat. After two years away from racing, he is immediately comfortable.

"They're still just race cars," he says. "They haven't changed much in the past couple years. You just get in them and drive."

The engine explodes into a thunder that echoes through the nearly empty garage. He clicks the transmission into reverse, backs the car out of the team's stall, and disappears into the blur of color and sound on the oval.

He comes back in after a few laps and sits in the car-alone in his thoughts-for 25 minutes as the crew modifies the front air dam. He gets back onto the track with just enough time to turn a couple of quick laps before the session is flagged to a close.

The stopwatch says his times are better. But Burton and the crew know it isn't good enough.

They huddle near the back of the car. Like most drivers, Burton talks with his hands as he tries to describe what the car does on the oval. McClure and Chris Carrier, the crew chief, take mental notes.

Finally, Burton tells them: "Whatever you do, it has to be big, or we don't stand a chance in the race."

He rushes from the Cup garage and jogs down the access road, waving to fans while ignoring their pleas for autographs. He takes a shortcut through a NASCAR inspection booth and sprints to a waiting golf cart.

Moments later, Burton is out of the cart and running to the BrewCo Motorsports hauler, where he slides out of his uniform and into a driver suit for Busch testing.

He runs from the BrewCo trailer and suddenly stops in the middle of the garage area, looking both ways.

"Where's my car?" he asks. "Where's my car?"

A crewman shouts that it is already in pit road, awaiting his arrival.

Less than 10 minutes after he climbed out of the Nextel Cup car, he was accelerating down pit road for Busch practice.