How does a huge sports event feel for fans now? I sat in stands at Bristol to find out
On Wednesday night, near the border of Tennessee and Virginia, I did a very pre-pandemic sort of thing.
I bought a cheap ticket to a massive sporting event — in this case, NASCAR’s all-star race. Then I drove three hours from Charlotte and sat in the stands at Bristol Motor Speedway along with thousands of other people.
It was weird in a lot of ways, being smack in the middle of the largest American sports crowd since COVID-19 shut down U.S. games in mid-March. I loved some parts of it and hated others.
It also gave me a sneak preview of what it will be like in the fall and winter if we have any types of games played in big venues before a limited number of fans. Even if that doesn’t happen until 2021, that’s the way most sports will come back — gradually.
So if you’re wondering about how that will feel as a fan, let me tell you what I saw.
First of all, it didn’t seem as dangerous as it might sound. We were socially distanced, Bristol Motor Speedway was filled to less than 20 percent of its capacity and the mask-wearing protocols were followed more often than not.
I thought Bristol’s speedway — which hosted the race because normal all-star host Charlotte Motor Speedway wasn’t authorized by the N.C. state government to host thousands of fans and Tennessee was — did relatively well with both organization and follow-through for the approximately 25,000 fans who showed up.
The 25,000 number is my estimate; Bristol packed in almost 157,000 for a college football game in 2016, so it swallowed up this crowd with ease.
Incidentally, I didn’t tell any Bristol track official I was coming, I never pulled out my media ID and I was recognized by no one. I simply bought a $35 ticket online the first day they were available, after the state of Tennessee had given permission to Bristol to sell up to 30,000 tickets.
So I think my immersion into the fan experience was genuine. I did end up sitting in the literal front row for the race, not more than 40 yards away from the cars roaring by. But that’s partly because the more expensive seats at Bristol ($65 online) are actually higher up due to the sightlines at the half-mile track that calls itself “The Last Great Colosseum.”
Let me break the pandemic fan experience down into three categories for you: What I loved, what I hated and what I found just plain weird.
Ready to spread out?
Loved: Oh, man, the room you have. This is absolutely the best thing about the whole experience. For veteran Panthers fans, I’ll put it this way — it feels like the fourth quarter of a game that Jimmy Clausen quarterbacked. You’re living in Clausen-ville now, but without the numbing defeats (the Panthers announced Thursday they will operate at reduced capacity, at best, for NFL games in 2020).
I went by myself, and had both five seats to my left and five to my right that were purposely not sold. Bristol only used every other row of seats, so nobody’s knees were digging into my back either. If you like to spread out, it’s fantastic. This emptiness isn’t sustainable for venues or sports leagues or owners — I can’t imagine how much money they will lose on ticket sales — but it’s wonderful while it lasts.
Hated: Don’t think I am minimizing this fact just because I had a pleasant time amid Bristol’s sound and fury: You could catch COVID-19 at a sporting event, and that’s going to be true indefinitely.
So is it worth that to you — the threat of dying? That’s an individual decision for everyone. There were reminders everywhere that you were assuming this risk simply by going to watch a race. (Bristol didn’t do temperature checks for fans, and there weren’t any metal detectors, either. By the end, a few dozen men had their shirts off. It’s always been a freewheeling sort of place).
Weird: Have you ever been to a men’s restroom where every other urinal, in a row of 20 urinals, is carefully taped off? Until Wednesday, I hadn’t been either.
Anti-Bubba sentiment
Loved: Fans were generally nice — to each other. I didn’t see any pushing or shoving. There was a lot of “after you, no after you” going on. I believe this goes back to the overcrowded aspect of your basic sold-out sports event. Lines are endless — for restrooms, concession stands and admission. People get frustrated. Now it’s more like every day is a rainy Tuesday at Carowinds.
Hated: While the fans were nice to each other, there was a small but loud minority of them that were downright nasty to Bubba Wallace — and it was easier to hear them with the stands mostly empty.
When Wallace — the only Black driver in NASCAR’s top series — wrecked in the first stage of the All-Star Open due to getting hooked by driver Michael McDowell, a rousing cheer went up among some in the stands. I thought I was hearing things, so I paid better attention when the big screen at Bristol showed the replay.
Again, there was a big cheer — not just for the wreck, but for the fact that it obviously destroyed Wallace’s car.
Later in the evening, when Wallace was presented with an award in a pre-taped video call, he was booed by that same contingent. Again, it wasn’t close to everyone. Wallace had some fans in Bristol, too. But there was enough anti-Wallace sentiment in a crowd that was 98 percent white that it was very obvious. Although NASCAR as a sport is trying to be progressive with moves like banning the Confederate flag from all its properties, some of the sport’s fans still have miles to go.
Weird: There were a few Confederate flags around — one in the sky pulled by a plane that listed the Sons of Confederate Veterans website and a few more flapping from a couple of the independent souvenir stands I visited outside the track.
But while I saw maybe four Confederate flags displayed — none of them on Bristol property — I saw closer to 400 Donald Trump T-shirts, flags, masks and other memorabilia either for sale or being worn.
On the other hand, in eight hours in and around the track and after seeing literally thousands of people, I never saw a single item with Joe Biden’s name on it. Nor did I ever hear Biden’s name spoken.
Excited to be there
Loved: The fans who come to an event like this, during a pandemic, really want to be there. They are willing to take the risk and to wear the mask (Bristol required masks to be worn in all common areas but not once you got to your seat). These people Wednesday made a serious effort. They were excited.
The people seated just down the row from me — a grandfather, father and a 10-year-old boy — had driven 800 miles from Vermont to watch the all-star race. They were fired up, and talking to them about their three-generation road trip got me fired up.
Hated: You’ve probably figured out already it’s hard to recognize people in a mask, or to read their expression, or to hear them clearly in a loud place.
So, not surprisingly, several of my other conversations with random people didn’t go as smoothly. I get it — I was a 6-foot-2, mask-wearing stranger. But still, I think those coincidental connections you make at a sporting event that usually make it more fun are going to be harder to come by in the short term.
You’re sitting further apart, you’re wearing a mask, you’re fumbling around with your hand sanitizer — it all lends itself to sticking with your own group.
Weird: After Chase Elliott won the race and the million dollars that went with it, Bristol tried to make the crowd stay in its seats and dismiss everyone slowly by row and section, like we were all at a wedding or something.
In my area, especially among the shirtless guys, this went about as well as you’d expect. It was well-intentioned, but exiting properly is going to need some work as we gradually allow fans to enter the games they love.
Still, would I do it again? I would. Then again, I’m a sports nut. The risk may not be worth it for you, and I totally understand that.
But for all the weirdness, in Bristol it felt for one night like a little bit of sports normalcy. And I loved that.
This story was originally published July 16, 2020 at 1:33 PM.
