 |
    |
 |
|
|
A Tale of Two Donalds and Their Apprentices
|
 |
|
Snake's drivers struggle not to get job but to maximize it
|
By Susan Wade Photos by Brian Wood and Roger Richards |
Millions of Americans were captivated by "The Apprentice," NBC-TV's serial that dramatized Donald Trump's selection of a young, aspiring entrepreneur to manage one of his properties. The show glamorized Trump's lavish lifestyle, featuring his corporate jet, Fifth Avenue New York skyscraper, Atlantic City Taj Mahal casino, and Florida ultra-luxury club Mar-a-Lago, all of which are mere chunks of his real-estate empire. The National Hot Rod Association has its own reality show with another Donald and his "apprentices." The boss isn't called "The Donald." He's called "Snake." Don Prudhomme's boardrooms -- has he trumped Trump with two? -- are gleamingly tidy shops not in fast-paced New York City, but in more sedate Brownsburg, Ind., and Vista, Calif. And you won't see any cat-scratching or backstabbing to gain Snake's attention: his Funny Car drivers, Ron Capps and Tommy Johnson Jr., have his approval. Both Snake and Trump are folk heroes who have reinvented themselves. Trump has morphed from extravagant 80s-greed mogul to pop-culture icon; Snake has eased from a pioneering hot-rod rebel who gave off drop-dead vibes to his opponents to a three-car team owner who gives off drop-dead vibes to his opponents.
NHRA's program airs 23 weeks a year on ESPN2, and viewers don't get to see Don Prudhomme, "The Snake," dismiss his charges with a cobra-like gesture and the words "You're fired." But they have seen the triumphs and trials of "The Skoal Twins," the two 6,000-horsepower, nitro-burning Chevy Monte Carlo Funny Cars that swallow 15 gallons of fuel (at $35 a gallon) during the burnout, staging and sub-five-second quarter-mile run. Snake's "apprentices" struggle not to get the job but rather to maximize the job's potential. Like Trump, California-based Prudhomme has a private jet. And Capps, a coastal-California native who chooses to house his family in Carlsbad , near San Diego , is the beneficiary of Snake's business musings when they fly to and from the races. "We fly together to and from every race," Capps said. He's also Prudhomme's traveling companion for trips to trade shows, specialty races and charities or benefits. "You take mental notes. You begin to learn what makes Snake tick, why he makes certain decisions. We talk on the way back from a race. He does a lot of venting. I'm sure Lynn (Prudhomme's wife) doesn't want to hear it. It's part of the deal."
While Prudhomme genuinely says "It's cool being an owner," he clearly has moments that tempt him to take that back. "Just pick up the phone and try to get a sponsor, then you'll know how tough it is," he'll say by way of gratitude for his relationships with U.S. Tobacco and its Skoal brand and with Miller Brewing. "When someone gives us a dollar bill, we like to give them $1.20 or a $1.50 back if we can. We like to give them their money's worth." Capps said he sees the pressure that such a philosophy puts on Prudhomme. "Snake's still trying to build that empire. And our deal, it's tough," the eight-year employee said. "I see Snake still has people to answer to, and he has to make phone calls to the sponsors every Monday morning." Capps, 39, has a degree in software engineering from Santa Clara University . But he's not ashamed to say he's still an apprentice, in some ways. "People ask me if I want to go out and own my own team," he said. "You think about it, but you know, I'm not ready for that right now. I still have a lot to learn from Snake." And he's seeing the two-faced sport for what it is: intoxicatingly exciting and monumentally maddening and a phenomenon so provocative he can't take his mind off it. "I know I'm really lucky to compete and do it at the highest level. The part I like about Snake is he's intense. He hates to lose, and there are times that can be hard. But if you understand him, you know you have to have that lust to win at whatever cost." But Capps, who used to play with Mattel's Snake and Mongoose Hot Wheels toy cars with brother Jon while growing up in San Luis Obispo and Santa Maria , said knowing what he knows now is "the ugly part about growing up. It is a business. It is still fun, but there are repercussions if I don't do my job. I don't get paid or I could lose my job, just like with any other business." Johnson, meanwhile, does not interact as much with Prudhomme, although he relocated from his native Iowa to Avon , Ind. , to be near the car, crew and shop that's the hub of Snake Racing.
"My contact with Snake is very minimal," Johnson said. "I know what my job is and I do it. We don't talk all that much. He might call once in a two-week period, just to see what's going on. I usually know he is bored if I get a call. Either that or I am in trouble for something. Ours is more what I would call a business relationship. We are respectful of each other, and we both know what we expect from one another." Capps said he talks by phone at least once a day to crew chief Roland Leong, who's back for a second stint, or "Skoal Green Team" crew members but "there's nothing I can do at the shop (in Vista )." Frankly, Johnson does little more than decal work and small odd jobs for his "Skoal Blue" crew, but, he said, "I just like to be around the car and the team. I enjoy going to the shop and hanging with my guys. I moved there because it was easier to travel the drag racing circuit and to be closer to the team. It is becoming the center of drag racing, and I just love being a part of it. All of my friends are in drag racing and most of them live in Indy, so it just makes sense." 
Prudhomme said his focus in 2004 is "to try and get our Funny Cars where they belong." No one else wants that more than Capps and Johnson, who are experienced and calm under pressure but have different personalities and approaches to their jobs. Johnson might not fly on his boss' jet -- he spends far more time in his own 2001 Chevy Tahoe. But he, too, senses the pressure to perform and knows what's on Prudhomme's mind.
"He has definitely put all his focus on making the Funny Cars run better. I don't know if that is better or worse," Johnson said. "I feel that everyone has pressure hanging over them and maybe some people don't operate well in those situations. We all know and more importantly want to run better and be in the winners circle. I'm not satisfied by any means how we have run so far, but nobody on the team is. We are a team, and I don't feel any different than any of my guys do. We all want to win." It was difficult in the first quarter of the schedule. Johnson advanced to the second round just twice and was the lone Funny Car driver to miss the field at Las Vegas , site of his last victory in April 2001. After Capps went through the first five races of this year with just one round-win, he said, "The season's not lost, but it's starting to get out of reach."
Capps' slump continued through Sonoma , the 15th race on the schedule. By then he had reached the St. Louis finals but DNQ'd at Denver and lost back-to-back first-round meetings with Whit Bazemore by .007 seconds and .0124 seconds at Seattle and Sonoma . But at Brainerd, he got a gift when Del Worsham broke on the line, and he beat top qualifier Tim Wilkerson before he, like Johnson in Round 2, lost to eventual winner Eric Medlen.
"We're making huge strides," Capps said. "Roland is doing a great job. The guys are giving confidence to me as a driver." Johnson, meanwhile, got a much-needed boost at Brainerd, too, knocking off Whit Bazemore in the first round. That came after six opening-round exits and a pair of failures to qualify, at Las Vegas in April and Chicago in May. Johnson's 37-race qualifying streak ended at Las Vegas , but he was philosophical, saying, "As bad as the DNQ sounds, we really only lost 20 points. If we would have lost in the first round at Vegas, we'd have only had 20 more points. If you can't make up 20 points over 19 races, then you shouldn't be out there racing. It's really not much worse than a first-round loss. You hate to struggle, and you can't afford to struggle more than one race or you'll fall way behind. Another thing we have going is that we have zero oil-down penalties, while some of the other guys have two or more. Two oil-downs are the same as a DNQ. If you lose 10 points per oil down, that can add up to a lot of points over the course of the season."
He said he knows the Skoal Monte Carlos will have a reversal of fortune. "It is early in the season," he said. "I'm very confident that we will improve our performance and be in the winners circle and the Skoal Showdown when Indy rolls around. If by Brainerd we are still doing the same, then I will be disappointed with the season, but that won't happen. Trust me, it won't happen. It won't get better by accident. It only gets better if you work harder and make it better. That is Snake's focus and our focus; making this team better in all areas. I think all the ingredients are here to make it happen."
Each has his own strategy for getting that done. Capps, who said he wishes he could have a time machine and go back and experience the barnstorming match-racing days and gets inspiration from the tales the Snake, Tom "The Mongoose" McEwen and Roland Leong spin, gets his inspiration from drag-racing legends. He sat in one of Prudhomme's restored Hot Wheels Funny Car to reverse some bad racing luck just before the 2002 U.S. Nationals and won the $100,000 Budweiser Shootout bonus race days later. Johnson draws his strength from within himself and from wife Melanie, whom he married last New Year's Eve. She's Melanie Troxel, the capable but currently unemployed Top Fuel driver who has her own set of frustrations in acquiring sponsorship. Johnson said their dynamics "can be a very difficult situation and it can be a very good thing. It is wonderful to have someone that you can talk with and who understands what is going on. That has been a problem in past relationships. She understands the time that it takes for this job. People just think you drive four seconds and your job is done. They don't understand last minute things that come up, rainouts, or your weekends off you have to go to a sponsor appearance or someone always wanting your attention. She gets that part.
"The hard part is when you are frustrated with your performance or something isn't going right. You can't complain too much because you get the answer that at least you have a ride. She understands, but she isn't afraid to remind you." He said, "She doesn't enjoy being at the track, just hanging out. I wish for myself that she would get a ride. I know it is frustrating watching, once you have competed, because I went through what she is going through. Nothing anyone tells you makes it better. I'm confident that she will get something put together soon and we will both be on the same schedule. It has worked out well when we were both driving." Troxel still owns and operates MTI, Inc., an automotive tools manufacturing company. Both Capps and Johnson (as well as Troxel, whose late father, Mike, was the 1988 NHRA Alcohol Dragster champion) have a racing heritage. Tommy Johnson Sr. competed in Pro Stock and other sportsmen categories throughout the 1970s. Capps' parents both raced and worked on cars. His father, John, drove a blown fuel altered in the Comp Eliminator class, and mother Betty, who drove cars and rode motorcycles, could build an engine (not to mention some of the household appliances and fixtures, if necessary). Among Capps' fondest memories are accompanying his dad to Bakersfield to race and watching at the motel in fascination as Prudhomme and Don Garlits and their drag-racing rivals parked their rigs in front of their rooms, unloaded their race cars and worked on them in the parking lot.
When Johnson's younger sister, Wendy, won the Topeka national event in the Super Comp class in Oct. 1992, she became the youngest female winner in NHRA history at age 17. Jon Capps -- who drove an alcohol Funny Car and is working on a Top Fuel deal -- did some stunt work for the Sylvester Stallone film "Driven," was an Indy-car school tutor and travels the country as a ride-and-drive instructor for luxury-car owners. The two Capps brothers used to help work on the race car, recalling that Dad would throw a towel in the dryer and run it to keep heat in the garage. Life is different now, and drivers such as Capps and Johnson don't have to do that. Capps' children won't see those images. (But his daughter, Taylor, 8, has sat in a junior dragster and is thinking about driving, like heroines Erica and Courtney Enders; his son Caden, 3, already entertains himself by making dragster sounds and, according to his dad, "has all the [sport's] names down.") Drivers today, particularly Capps and Johnson, focus on keeping themselves fit. Capps, who wrestled and played football in school and used to teach racquetball at several Bay Area athletic clubs, does circuit training regularly when he's home. His personal trainer, also a chiropractor, has worked with tennis star Andre Agassi and supercross athletes. The 5-foot-8, 150-pound Funny Car driver "presents a different challenge for him," as they work on a regimen that isolates specific muscle groups. "I'd do it anyway," Capps said, "but with a trainer you get pushed a little more."
He still eats a hearty breakfast. "I eat bacon and eggs almost every day. I like to cook," he said. "I make the eggs different a lot so I don't get bored with it. You name it, I've had them that way. And yes, my doctor said my cholesterol is great. He said, actually, it was off-the-charts good." Forget the M&Ms. Think rally. "Off-the-charts good" is what drag-racing's Donald and his two "apprentices" alike want to see on the track.
|
Johnson admits he's not quite as gung-ho on the fitness routine. At 5-foot-11, 160 pounds, he's not exactly a dead-weight in the car, but he knows gravity is catching up with him. "Well . . . let's just say I am maintaining where I am at right now," he said. "I've been the same for a couple of years now and I need to get it in gear and pick it up a notch. I don't think it is hurting my performance in the car at all. I just want to do it for myself. I'm not getting any younger. I'm about twenty pounds lighter than I was when I joined this team. I feel better and with our schedules getting busier every year it has to pay off being in better physical shape. I do like the low-carb diet, though. I will stick with it for sure. If only I could kick my peanut M&M habit I would have it made." 
