Rarely is adrenaline listed among the many addictions to which one can fall prey.
For those who have put it all on the line and given any form of motorsports a whirl, they soon discover there are few things that can match the rush of controlling a high-powered racing machine at speed.
Then, there is the basic thrill of competition and the deep satisfaction that comes with winning. It is a hard thing from which to walk away. Just being involved in a sport such as racing can get a deep hold on an individual and once some get a taste for it, there is little else they want to do.
Still, the time comes for all racers to hang it up. Sometimes the grind wears them down. Others hold on until all available evidence suggests the arc of their career points south. One possible solution is to don a different uniform and continue to contribute to the sport as an official. For some this is a surreal moment. After years chafing against rules and rule makers, suddenly the roles are reversed.
What complicates matters is when one suddenly is on the other end of the argument with participants who were once allies. Credibility clearly matters, but some former racers make the mistake of believing their past offers a lifetime immunity from harsh words or second-guessing. That’s not how it works.
Tommie Estes Jr., Casey Shuman and Levi Jones have all successfully transitioned from racer to official and have excelled in this capacity. They found it wasn’t easy, but they have also discovered there are rewards outside the cockpit.
For Estes Jr., the end came rather abruptly. He had just scored one of his most lucrative wins, but shortly thereafter he had simply had enough.
“For me, it really wasn’t that hard to quit. The thrill of racing was basically gone,” Estes said. “Two weeks before I quit, I was out on the road racing a hundred races a year. I couldn’t find any help and nobody would go with me. I won a race that paid $25,000 to win and I had to beg someone to help me push my car back in the trailer. I had spent about seven years on the road by myself.
“ASCS parted ways with a scheduling director, so I joined them and started working in the office. Then I was back on the road with them.”
Estes spent years with ASCS, managed several tracks starting at Dodge City (Kan.) Raceway Park and oversaw major events such as the Chili Bowl Nationals.
At the end of last year, it was announced he would join the USAC staff with major responsibility for the Silver Crown Series. He’s back in a motorhome and has close to 60 races on his slate.
“I wanted to stay involved in the sport but I didn’t know where I was going to land,” Estes said. “I have seen great race drivers that didn’t make good officials and so-so racers who became great officials. I just wanted to treat everybody like I wanted to be treated.”
One of the things he has learned along the way is to not take things personally.
“It is like a chess match,” he said. “If I catch you, I’m not mad at you. At checkmate we start a whole new game.”
After 47 years in the sport, Estes also learned that every decision matters and that one deviation from the rules will likely have a long-term ripple effect.
Estes has also learned the most basic principle in officiating, managing everyone the same.
“Gary Wright and I are great friends and people knew that. We played a lot of golf together,” Estes said. “When I went south, I stayed at his house and when he came north, he stayed with me. But Gary knew I had a job when I came to the race track just like he did. If he didn’t go to the scales, he got disqualified. That happened several times.”
Casey Shuman still gets behind the wheel on occasion, but it is a nice diversion from his full-time job. In Shuman’s case he had watched his father, Ron, reinvent himself. While Casey didn’t feel compelled to follow in his father’s footsteps, he had been impressed by what he saw.
“There were a lot of positive things he did that really changed the sport,” Shuman said about his father. “The stuff he did with the Non-Wing World Championship and racing out west with SCRA. Things were thriving in the West at that point. It was probably the best it had been out there in a long time. I felt I could make a difference too, and that intrigued me.”
Like Estes, Shuman was ready to do something different.