Waid’s World: The Saga of Tim Richmond Includes Stardom, Success & Ultimate Tragedy

Watkins Glen International plays a role in some of the high points in the saga of driver Tim Richmond.

It also plays a role in perhaps the lowest point.

Richmond’s career in NASCAR was like a meteor crashing into the earth. It had a huge impact, but at the same time, it flamed out quickly.

Richmond came to stock car racing in 1980 after a stint in NTT IndyCar Series competition — where, incidentally, he had gained some notoriety.

But in doing so, he also found ways to smash up cars repeatedly. So much so, the story goes, that his mother Evelyn, who feared he was headed for severe injury or worse, pleaded with him to find a safer motorsports pursuit.

So Richmond came south from his Ashland, Ohio, home and eventually hooked up with independent owner D.K. Ulrich for five races in 1980 and a full schedule the next year.

Then, for the 1982 season, Richmond drove for maverick J.D. Stacy, who owned several teams and sponsored even more. 

Richmond raised eyebrows when he won the first two races of his career in the season’s first and last races on the road course at Riverside, Calif.

Once victorious, Richmond fell into the scrutiny of fellow competitors, fans and media. For one thing, he had won races in cars that were given little chance at victory. 

However, the team was under the leadership of Dale Inman, the long-time, vastly successful crew chief at Petty Enterprises.

Also, NASCAR had never seen the likes of Richmond.

He was affable, quick-witted and devilishly handsome. It’s not a reach to say Richmond was the ultra-photogenic matinee idol. And he knew it.

For the next three seasons, Richmond drove for former drag racer Raymond Beadle and crew chiefs Tim Brewer and Barry Dodson. 

There were only two victories, but it was during his tenure with Beadle that Richmond’s life away from the track became more prominent. The Beadle crew wasn’t known as a docile bunch, and, with his looks and personality, Richmond wasn’t known as the milk-and-cookies, watch TV type.

And suffice it to say their adventures were, sometimes, the talk of the garage area.

But Richmond departed in 1986 to take, as the cliché goes, “the offer he couldn’t refuse.”

He joined team owner Rick Hendrick as the second operation in his stable. He would have irascible, veteran crew chief Harry Hyde as his crew chief.

The match seemed to be perfect. Richmond was known as a lead foot with little knowledge of racing strategy — much less car preparation.

Hyde knew all the tricks of the trade. He would be Richmond’s mentor and teacher who could mold him into a better driver.

In true Hollywood fashion, it all worked superbly. Richmond was the hottest driver of 1986. He won seven races, eight pole positions and nearly $700,000. He finished third in the final point standing.

He was now a superstar — and a very popular one at that.

“Listen,” Kyle Petty said. “You know how NASCAR is always hoping it can attract young fans? Tim Richmond is the guy who can do it for them. He’s going to be the Pied Piper for 18-year-olds.”

One of Richmond’s 1986 victories came at Watkins Glen, to which NASCAR had returned after an absence of two decades.

Richmond took the lead from Darrell Waltrip and finished nearly two seconds ahead of his rival. Afterward, Richmond appropriately credited the victory to Hyde and crew.

But as successful as the 1986 season was, the offseason was a disaster in more ways than one.

Richmond had endured one spell of illness after another. At times, he admitted he was listless and weak. Rumors had him suffering everything from sores to strokes. 

Admittedly, such rumors were ridiculous, but at the same time, they reflected the belief that Richmond was suffering from something sinister.

He checked into the Cleveland Clinic to be treated for, supposedly, double pneumonia. He missed the majority of the 1987 season during which time he said, more than once, that he would return to competition.

It was during his absence that it was suggested that, maybe, just maybe, Richmond suffered from AIDS.

Now, it must be said that during this time, AIDS was a relatively new affliction of which little was known — except that it was fatal. It was believed to be a malady among homosexuals but could transfer from several other sources ranging from sex to transfusions.

But the uncertainty of it all promoted fear. Could you catch it by touching someone or breathing close to them?

And that fear resulted in silence and suspicion, both of which applied to Richmond during his absence.

However, Richmond returned spectacularly. He won at Pocono Raceway in June and again in Riverside later in the month. Two victories in consecutive races after an absence of several months was the kind of stuff only Hollywood could provide.

It seemed that Richmond was indeed back with a bang.

Not so.

It was at Watkins Glen that there came a hint things were not well with Richmond.

The Saturday before the race, Tom Higgins of the Charlotte Observer and I went to a popular Italian restaurant in Corning, N.Y.

Once we entered, we quickly saw Richmond at a table with some friends. Slumping in his seat and mumbling, he was clearly inebriated.

Now, let’s face it — there indeed have been NASCAR drivers in their cups many times. But this was different. The era of Curtis Turner, Joe Weatherly and the catchphrase, “Another party starting in 15 minutes” was long gone. Racing was a business drivers took seriously, and being drunk on a Saturday night was a serious infraction.

Richmond was severely hungover Sunday in the driver’s meeting on Sunday, so much so he found it difficult just to stand up.

Afterward, Winston Cup Series (now NASCAR Cup Series) Director Dick Beaty was confronted by several drivers who said if Richmond started the race, they were not going to compete. He was a serious safety threat. 

Fortunately, the race was rained out and run the next day.

At Michigan International Speedway six days later, Richmond could not be found when it came his time to qualify. Hyde conducted a search and finally found Richmond before time trials ended. 

His driver was disorientated and groggy. He had to be carted to his car, in which he qualified 25th and finished 29th in the race.

That was the last time Richmond drove a stock car. Hendrick pulled him from the Southern 500 at Darlington Raceway.

To me, those two weeks, and Richmond’s subsequent physical and mental state in each, emphasized that all was not well with him. He was in distress over problems that seemed to overwhelm him.

There followed a series of events that included NASCAR’s refusal to allow Richmond to compete, Richmond’s refusal to release his records from the Cleveland Clinic and his lawsuit against the sanctioning body — not to mention numerous rumors and innuendo.

Finally, Richmond retreated to Florida where he died of AIDS on Aug. 13, 1989. He was 34 years old.

The conclusion here is the same that has been reached many times by many others. Richmond proved his ability as a driver and could well have become one of the sport’s best ever. 

Sadly, that promise was cut short by a disease that, at the time, was feared and misunderstood.