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Boston Hearald Article About Comparing Earnhardt to Firefighters and Police Officers
Recieved and e-mail today about this article printed in the Boston Herald Just wanted to know what you think?
The story below was printed in the Boston Herald on Wednesday, 2/21/01
Losing track of our real heroes
by Steve Buckley
Boston Herald
Wednesday, February 21, 2001
Each day, dozens of people call the Herald's sports department with all
kinds of questions, complaints, observations and suggestions. Yesterday, not
surprisingly, more than a few folks phoned in with comments about NASCAR
driver Dale Earnhardt, who was killed Sunday afternoon at Daytona
International Speedway.
Most of the calls were civil, and well-reasoned. But when people start
dredging up the same old arguments about how Earnhardt was a ``hero,'' it
just gets so silly. To top things off, several people called yesterday and -
we are not making this up - compared the death of Dale Earnhardt to the
deaths of the Worcester firefighters.
Somebody else compared them with police officers. Same story. Racecar
drivers, like police officers, are heroes. Racecar drivers, like police
officers, put their lives on the line each day.
Have we all lost our minds? Comparing a racecar driver with six Worcester
firefighters who lost their lives in a warehouse fire? Comparing a racecar
driver with . . . cops?
Understand this about Dale Earnhardt: He was one of the superstars of his
profession, a successful, well-liked performer who had a huge following
throughout the Winston Cup circuit. What he did, he did well. And we're all
very sorry he died.
But a hero?
Let's go step by step with this.
This is the deal with racecar drivers: They do what they do because it's a
thrilling, high-stakes business, offering fame, lots of travel and, yes,
absolutely, the chance to make millions of dollars.
This is the deal with firefighters: They are working stiffs. Like most
people, they scrimp and save and line up alternative sources of income in
order to buy a house, raise a family, maybe go on a vacation once a year to
Hampton Beach or Disney World. Racecar drivers ``put their lives on the
line'' by climbing behind the wheel of a race car.
Firefighters ``put their lives on the line'' by going into a burning
building in order to save lives.
Heck, sometimes firefighters lose their lives when a building isn't even on
fire. In 1972, following a fire at the Hotel Vendome, nine Boston
firefighters lost their lives when the building's southeast wall collapsed
on them while they were overhauling the structure.
They were working men, holding down second jobs to make ends meet. Huck
Hanbury ran a little bar in the South End. Richard Magee worked in the parts
department of a Ford dealership in Cambridge. Paul Murphy worked part-time
at a Somerville packie.
They left a total of 23 children. Joseph Boucher, at 27 the youngest of the
nine, was awaiting the birth of his first child. Joe Saniuk, the only one of
the nine who wasn't married, was talking about tying the knot with Corrine
Kennedy.
These guys, all nine of them, were heroes.
It's the same with the Worcester firefighters. They had wives and kids and
mortgages and second jobs. And when they got the call, they went into that
blazing warehouse, no questions asked, no press conferences, no autographs,
because that's what they were being paid to do. Those six Worcester
firefighters didn't have bonuses or endorsement deals waiting for them,
either. They were pulling down a paycheck.
And . . . what? We want to compare racecar drivers with these guys? Take
away the Winston Cup, and, while there'd be a lot of very sad, upset racing
fans, we wouldn't have a national crisis on our hands. Take away the cops
and the jakes, and our entire way of life would be threatened. It's that
easy.
If you want to mourn the death of Dale Earnhardt, do so. Send flowers. Say a
prayer. Light a candle. But, please, let's not make a mockery of this man's
death with a lot of blathering about what a great hero he was.
Given his stature and success, Dale Earnhardt could have walked away from
the Winston Cup circuit and still had plenty of money to raise his family.
He chose to keep racing. It was his choice, but not a choice that makes him
a hero.
When a police officer or a firefighter leaves the job, guess what? They have
to find another job. And we're not talking about becoming color analysts or
sportscasters or Madison Avenue pitchmen.
See, the last time I checked, nobody was offering a Worcester firefighter $1
million to appear on television holding a container of Valvoline in his
hands. Heroes - that is, real heroes - just don't command that kind of dough
in the real world.
Link to original on-line story:
http://www.bostonherald.com/sport/go...ck02212001.htm
The story below was printed in the Boston Herald on Wednesday, 2/21/01
Losing track of our real heroes
by Steve Buckley
Boston Herald
Wednesday, February 21, 2001
Each day, dozens of people call the Herald's sports department with all
kinds of questions, complaints, observations and suggestions. Yesterday, not
surprisingly, more than a few folks phoned in with comments about NASCAR
driver Dale Earnhardt, who was killed Sunday afternoon at Daytona
International Speedway.
Most of the calls were civil, and well-reasoned. But when people start
dredging up the same old arguments about how Earnhardt was a ``hero,'' it
just gets so silly. To top things off, several people called yesterday and -
we are not making this up - compared the death of Dale Earnhardt to the
deaths of the Worcester firefighters.
Somebody else compared them with police officers. Same story. Racecar
drivers, like police officers, are heroes. Racecar drivers, like police
officers, put their lives on the line each day.
Have we all lost our minds? Comparing a racecar driver with six Worcester
firefighters who lost their lives in a warehouse fire? Comparing a racecar
driver with . . . cops?
Understand this about Dale Earnhardt: He was one of the superstars of his
profession, a successful, well-liked performer who had a huge following
throughout the Winston Cup circuit. What he did, he did well. And we're all
very sorry he died.
But a hero?
Let's go step by step with this.
This is the deal with racecar drivers: They do what they do because it's a
thrilling, high-stakes business, offering fame, lots of travel and, yes,
absolutely, the chance to make millions of dollars.
This is the deal with firefighters: They are working stiffs. Like most
people, they scrimp and save and line up alternative sources of income in
order to buy a house, raise a family, maybe go on a vacation once a year to
Hampton Beach or Disney World. Racecar drivers ``put their lives on the
line'' by climbing behind the wheel of a race car.
Firefighters ``put their lives on the line'' by going into a burning
building in order to save lives.
Heck, sometimes firefighters lose their lives when a building isn't even on
fire. In 1972, following a fire at the Hotel Vendome, nine Boston
firefighters lost their lives when the building's southeast wall collapsed
on them while they were overhauling the structure.
They were working men, holding down second jobs to make ends meet. Huck
Hanbury ran a little bar in the South End. Richard Magee worked in the parts
department of a Ford dealership in Cambridge. Paul Murphy worked part-time
at a Somerville packie.
They left a total of 23 children. Joseph Boucher, at 27 the youngest of the
nine, was awaiting the birth of his first child. Joe Saniuk, the only one of
the nine who wasn't married, was talking about tying the knot with Corrine
Kennedy.
These guys, all nine of them, were heroes.
It's the same with the Worcester firefighters. They had wives and kids and
mortgages and second jobs. And when they got the call, they went into that
blazing warehouse, no questions asked, no press conferences, no autographs,
because that's what they were being paid to do. Those six Worcester
firefighters didn't have bonuses or endorsement deals waiting for them,
either. They were pulling down a paycheck.
And . . . what? We want to compare racecar drivers with these guys? Take
away the Winston Cup, and, while there'd be a lot of very sad, upset racing
fans, we wouldn't have a national crisis on our hands. Take away the cops
and the jakes, and our entire way of life would be threatened. It's that
easy.
If you want to mourn the death of Dale Earnhardt, do so. Send flowers. Say a
prayer. Light a candle. But, please, let's not make a mockery of this man's
death with a lot of blathering about what a great hero he was.
Given his stature and success, Dale Earnhardt could have walked away from
the Winston Cup circuit and still had plenty of money to raise his family.
He chose to keep racing. It was his choice, but not a choice that makes him
a hero.
When a police officer or a firefighter leaves the job, guess what? They have
to find another job. And we're not talking about becoming color analysts or
sportscasters or Madison Avenue pitchmen.
See, the last time I checked, nobody was offering a Worcester firefighter $1
million to appear on television holding a container of Valvoline in his
hands. Heroes - that is, real heroes - just don't command that kind of dough
in the real world.
Link to original on-line story:
http://www.bostonherald.com/sport/go...ck02212001.htm
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