By Steve Elling
Sentinel Staff Writer

February 8, 2004

Brian Vickers has an appreciation for historical figures that belies his age. In fact, he made them something of a study in high school.

Vickers, 20, placed a poster of Einstein on his wall, has the utmost respect for FDR and can toss out the occasional Churchill quote when appropriate.

When killing time at the race track, Vickers often can be found in his trailer, studying the modern classics. He also is conversant in the witticisms of Doo, Duck and Fudd.

That would be Scooby, Daffy and Elmer, respectively, who are more hysterical than historical. That is exactly the point: You can drop a kid in a car, but don't ask a kid to drop his cartoons.

"I grew up really quick, maybe faster than I wanted to or should have, so I missed a lot of my childhood, a lot of my teenage years," Vickers said. "I still have a couple of things I hold onto, and cartoons are one of them.

"It's relaxing to me. It gets me in my own little place and gets me away from all the distractions."

Speed Racer's day job has plenty of those.

The youngest driver in history to earn a NASCAR points title while racing last year in the Busch Series, Vickers this season moves up to the majors as a member of the Hendrick Motorsports team. Only 31/2 months past his 20th birthday, Vickers hopes to put the "next" in Nextel Cup, the circuit's new title sponsor.

"This kid has everything," said sports psychologist Jack Stark, who works with the Hendrick drivers. "I almost hate to say it at this point, but if he's not the next Jeff Gordon, then I don't know who is."

The new baby face of NASCAR has freckles, red hair, a slight drawl and occasionally answers to the all-too-apt nickname "Opie." Given his age, when he talks of his crib back home in North Carolina, he could almost mean it literally. He blew through the sport's developmental circuits at a dizzying rate and signed up to ride on the senior circuit late last year when he was still 19. Truth be told, he doesn't look that old.

"It's all happened real fast," Vickers said. "But I don't think it happened too fast, if you know what I mean."

It might be the only time in racing where, perhaps, fast isn't always optimal. But those who have noted Vickers' ascent aren't exactly worried that he's in over his copper-colored head.

"To be able to win the Busch championship, he definitely has his act together," new teammate Jimmie Johnson said.

The fact that Vickers is sitting in the No. 25 car at all sounds like an act from a Looney Tunes episode. Two years ago, car owner Ricky Hendrick -- whose father, Rick, runs the venerable Hendrick racing franchise -- wanted Vickers behind the wheel for the 2003 season. Dad had his eye on another driver and already had drawn up paperwork to that effect. And signed it.

Ricky, now 24 and a former Busch driver himself, kept lobbying in favor of Vickers, using diplomatic means that would have made Churchill proud. To no avail.

"He didn't have a last name," Ricky said of the unheralded Vickers. "What would the sponsors do? So there were other considerations and my dad kept hammering that home.

"'What does this kid have that's going to be an asset to this company? I just don't see what he's got.' So I had to sell him."

Ricky pointed out that Vickers had been competitive in his Busch Series appearances in 2001-02 despite driving for an underfunded, family-owned team. His age and lack of a NASCAR pedigree were moot because he had upside.

Gas-pedal style, Ricky put his foot down and issued an ultimatum: Unless Vickers was driving, Ricky was bolting the fold.

Needless to say, dad didn't react real well initially.

"No, not exactly," Ricky said, flashing an expression that seemed equal parts grin and grimace. "At the time, he wasn't real thrilled with it and he kind of backlashed on me a little bit. He told me the way he felt about it, but he eventually came back and said that if it was what I wanted and honestly believed in, he'd do it."

Vickers validated the decision by nailing down the Busch points crown in the November season finale at Homestead, making he and Ricky the youngest driver-owner combo to win one of NASCAR's three season titles. By then, the elder Hendrick already had decided to replace Joe Nemechek with Vickers for the Nextel Cup season in '04.

"That's a pretty neat situation and amazing how it took place," Vickers said. "Every time I think about it, I can't thank Ricky enough for what he did and having faith in me to get this done."

Done? He's just getting started. Sure, Vickers resides squarely in the unproven prospect/prodigy category relative to the Nextel Cup ranks, but the pair looks like a potential dynasty in the making. Ricky is diving in head-first as an owner, too, serving as Vickers' spotter this year.

"I think the biggest thing was I wanted somebody with the same kind of personality so that when he got on the team, the chemistry would already be there," Ricky said. "He had the talent, and we gave him the tools."

Then there are the intangibles, the between-the-ears stuff that owners can't read like a simple gas gauge. Stark has worked as a sports psychologist with several pro teams, including the Miami Dolphins, and for the past 16 seasons with the Nebraska Cornhuskers. In short, he's worked with hundreds of young adults. With Vickers, he offers some head-turning declaratives.

"He's got the whole package," Stark said. "He's mature, smart, articulate and he makes you forget that he just turned 20. He's everything NASCAR wants in its new drivers.

"Plus, he's just talented."

Oh, that. Vickers had three victories and 13 top-five finishes in his first full season in the Busch Series in 2003 despite racing against several Nextel Cup regulars -- drivers held in high esteem around his racing-crazed homestead in Thomasville, N.C.

"Growing up in that area, it's like you don't have a choice," said Vickers, whose father, Clyde, is a former driver who owns a racing-parts shop. "It's like football in Texas."

It's a Texas-sized long shot that anybody in a chinstrap ever fell asleep in the huddle, though. Clyde Vickers recalls his son's first Busch race three years ago in Milwaukee. Talk about unaffected.

"They made all the announcements, played the national anthem and had everybody fire up the cars," Clyde said. "Brian, they had to wake him up [in the car]."

When Rick Hendrick called Brian and Clyde into his office in Charlotte last fall to unexpectedly extend a shot at NASCAR's big leagues, Brian's excitement quickly gave way to businesslike questions about technical issues, pit-crew positions, finances and the like.

"He was very, very excited, but mature enough to realize that it was a big, important step," Clyde said.

It was a leapfrog lunge, actually, akin to skipping most of the social activities of high school. Most of his time has been spent in a racing harness of some sort.

"There weren't many Friday night football games or going to the prom," his father said. "He grew up in an adult world, so he grew up much faster. But there were times when he and a friend would escape for a day and just be kids, building and blowing up model airplanes and stuff like that."

Vickers and longtime friend Jon Wood, who races on the Craftsman Truck Series, used to buy $70 in mini-mart candy en route to their go-cart outings and inhale it all before the green flag had dropped. With all that sugar, who needed gasoline?

"Can't do that anymore," Vickers lamented. "But I never gained a pound."

He has other ageless indulgences, like we said.

"He still likes his video games and his cartoons, but he's competitive to his heart, competitive to his soul," Ricky Hendrick said. "If you hit him on the shoulder, he'll hit you in the shoulder. If you kick him in the feet, he'll try to trip you.

"He's one of those kind of guys. That's what makes him a good race-car driver. He's got that fire inside that he won't get beat and won't get out-done."

Vickers, who counts the cartoon exploits of SpongeBob SquarePants among his favorites, is a sponge himself when soaking up knowledge. Dr. Stark has loaned several books to Vickers, including esoteric tomes on psychology and philosophy.

In fact, during one of their earliest face-to-face sessions, the psychologist bolted from the team trailer with Vickers in tow, still peppering him with questions about the age-old topic of environment versus heredity. Stark said they'd been talking for three hours already and Vickers hadn't nearly exhausted the subject.

"I thought, 'This kid is wearing me out. I gotta get out of here,' " Stark recalled, laughing. "He followed me out of the truck. He still had a race to run that day."

Stark, who has been working with Vickers for more than a year, quickly noticed that Vickers appears devoid of nerves, perhaps because he has little emotional scar tissue from bad experiences.

"I've seen fear in other drivers. It's there," Stark said. "He is so focused, it doesn't seem to enter his mind. His mind is on the strategy and he doesn't seem to have room for negative thoughts."

To quote another famous cartoon figure: "What, me worry?"

"I'm generally a pretty calm person," Vickers said. "I fear God, I fear losing my mom and dad, I fear something happening to my family -- but nothing racing-related. Me, physically doing something, I've never really been afraid."

Have no fear, underdog is here -- to stay. Doctor's orders: Get used to ample doses of No. 25.

"My advice is to get to know this kid because I think he's going to be around for a long, long time," Starks said.

Or, as Mr. Fudd would put it, sort of:

Th-th-th-that's not all, folks.