Many race-car drivers — including me — deal with the aftereffects of traumatic brain injury.
Many race-car drivers — including me — deal with the aftereffects of traumatic brain injury.
L ast week, the family of three-time NASCAR champion turned broadcaster Darrell Waltrip released a statement that he’ll be stepping away from public life after he was diagnosed with frontotemporal degeneration. One thing really jumps out from their statement: the suggestion that his disease may be “complicated by possible chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE),” brought on by repeated head injuries he received while driving a race car. This was particularly tough to hear — not just because Darrell is a legend but because brain injury is something that’s touched so many former racers. I’m one of them.
When you hear about the devastating effects of concussions, it usually has to do with football. CTE is one of those effects. It causes severe mood and memory problems and makes it difficult to plan things and multitask. And it’s a pretty widespread problem: One new study shows that at least one in four NFL players who died between 2016 and 2021 had CTE at the time of their death. The actual number could be much higher.
There’s still a lot we don’t know about what concussions can do to football players, but we know even less about how they affect race-car drivers. These days, with advances made in cars, safety equipment, and racetracks, racing is probably as safe as it’s ever been. That’s great news, but it doesn’t mean that head injuries aren’t still a major threat in the sport. Hard hits happen all the time, and concussions are still an expected part of the job. I’ve had several — maybe seven or eight throughout my life. I can think of at least one I received on the track where I raced again the next week, and I definitely shouldn’t have. I’m not special; I don’t think there’s a race-car driver out there who hasn’t “had their bell rung” in a wreck at some point and then competed through the pain. We know that what we do is dangerous, but we don’t think the worst effects will happen to us.
I was wrong. In May 2003, while practicing for a NASCAR race at Richmond Raceway in Virginia, my car spun around and hit the wall on the driver’s side. While “soft walls” or SAFER (Steel and Foam Energy Reduction) Barriers — made of hollow metal that absorbs the energy of racing accidents — are now common at racetracks, they hadn’t been installed at Richmond yet. Instead, my body and brain bore the brunt of the 120-plus g-force impact. Because of the traumatic brain injury I received, I spent several weeks in an induced coma, and I had to relearn how to walk and talk. Returning to competitive racing was something I desperately wanted to do, but the aftereffects of the accident kept me from doing that.
I think I’m very lucky to still be here and to be doing as well as I am, but more than 20 years after my accident, I’d be lying if I said I was back to the person I used to be. You won’t know it by just looking at me, but the brain injury has taken away the sharpness and clarity I used to feel; these days, I often say that my body feels like mashed potatoes. Sometimes, it feels difficult to balance a couple of competing thoughts at once. My accident injured the right side of my thalamus — the part of the brain that controls sensory functions — so the left side of my body feels especially strange, like being poked by needles all the time. When I go to bed, that half of my body feels colder than the other side. Brain injuries can be funny things.
Whether you’re a high school football player, a member of the military, or a professional athlete who makes their living on the field or on the racetrack, you don’t know if — or, more likely, when — you’ll be affected by a brain injury. I certainly didn’t. But one thing I do know is that more research on our brains needs to be done. For example, right now, CTE can’t be identified in a person’s brain until after they die. Hopefully, doctors will figure out a way to diagnose it in living patients; they’re making some good strides.
I’m no medical professional, but I want to support their research in the best way I can. I’ve already pledged my own brain to concussion research. Dale Earnhardt Jr., who chose to retire from NASCAR following his own experience with repeated concussions, has done the same. I know I speak for him as well as myself when I say that if researchers can learn something from our brains that can help the next generation of brain-injured people, those donations will have been well worth it.
I wish Darrell Waltrip and his family the best. The news of his diagnosis is a reminder that even the most successful folks among us can be affected by brain injuries. The best tribute we can give him is to work to understand more about how the brain works, so that those who deal with the aftermath of brain injuries can have the best life possible.