Waid’s World: In 1979, Buddy Baker Wins on a Short Track & This Time, It’s No Gift

To anyone who got to know Buddy Baker, one uncontested conclusion was quickly reached: there wasn’t anything small about him.

Not his size (6 feet, 5 inches), weight (245 pounds), smile (wide and toothy), laugh (more of a bellow), appetite (“Heck, I breathe more than 2,000 calories a day.”), self-deprecating sense of humor (“Shoot, I ain’t much of anything.”) nor his passion for life (“Give me a fishing pole and a few friends, and I’m happy.”)

Certainly, he was larger than life when it came to driving stock cars in NASCAR, which he did for 35 years.

As a competitor, Baker’s skills and reputation were also built on size. He was never known as a patient driver, one who used finesse to await the precise moment when he could pounce on his rivals and leave them in his tire smoke.

Oh, no. Not Baker. He was the quintessential “leadfoot,” whose strategy was to start his car, power to the front and stay there. If at all possible, no one would pass him. The only way he’d lose the lead was for his car to die under him.

Baker was compared favorably to other stalwarts who preceded him, such as Curtis Turner and his father, three-time NASCAR Cup Series champion Buck Baker.

Buddy Baker knew his reputation in NASCAR and among its media and fans. He didn’t object to it but, from time to time, chose to explain that he was more than a raging bull.

“I’ve heard that story that says some wealthy guy puts every piece of equipment it takes to build a winning car in NASCAR in a warehouse,” Baker said. “Anybody who can build that car and its engine is welcome to them absolutely free.

“Then, the story goes that me, Cale Yarborough and Tim Richmond wedge ourselves in the door trying to get out.”

After a chuckle or two, Baker added, “Listen, I know what it takes to build and maintain a fast car. I worked with my daddy for years, doing you-name-it. I had to do that before I could sit in a car.”

Baker finally got into a car in 1959, when he was 18 years old. He competed on the Cup Series circuit, and it was hard for him to display any real big-track muscle because such tracks were almost nonexistent.

NASCAR’s schedule was crammed with short tracks, ranging from Columbia and Greenville, S.C., to Wilson and Weaverville, N.C. And on to Macon and Savannah, G.A., among many others.

From 1959-66, Baker did not win a race. Nor did he compete on the full Cup schedule, which could consist of as many as 55 races per year. 

But by 1967, things had changed in NASCAR. A “Superspeedway era” had begun in 1960 with the creation of 1.5-mile tracks in Charlotte and Atlanta.

Five years later, the one-mile Rockingham Speedway opened in Rockingham, N.C., and word was that others were coming.

Baker’s career turned as NASCAR tracks evolved to fit his natural driving style. Racing with noted owner Ray Fox of Daytona Beach, Fla., — which was a break from his father — young Baker won his first career race.

Naturally, it was on a big track, Charlotte Motor Speedway. He won there again in 1968. In 1970, while driving for Cotton Owens, Baker won the venerated Southern 500 at Darlington Raceway, a victory that hoisted him out of the ordinary.

As a teammate to Richard Petty at Petty Enterprises in 1971, Baker won Darlington’s spring race and followed that up in 1972 with two wins — his most during one season at that time — with another victory at Charlotte followed by a win in the season-ending event at College Station, Texas.

By this time, a pattern had emerged. Baker competed only in superspeedway events. He was absent at all the short tracks. It meant that his abbreviated seasons would remove any chance at a Cup championship. But Baker didn’t seem to mind.

In 1973, Baker joined Nord Krauskopf’s K&K racing team, which featured bright orange No. 71 Dodge Chargers under the guidance of veteran crew chief Harry Hyde.

There was a major difference for Baker. Unlike in the past, the team competed for the Cup title. It entered all 32 races.

For a driver who had spent years avoiding the short tracks, Baker gave a good account of himself. He had top-five finishes at Richmond Raceway, North Wilkesboro Speedway and Martinsville Speedway.

Additionally, he won another big-track race, the World 600 at Charlotte, which had proven to be his most productive speedway.

Then on Aug. 25, Baker accomplished something many thought he never would. He won a short-track race, the Nashville 420 at the 0.396-mile Nashville Fairgrounds Speedway.

However, Baker was never satisfied with his achievement. He never shook off the feeling that he didn’t earn the victory; it was presented to him by fate.

Driving for Junior Johnson & Associates, Yarborough was leading the event comfortably when, inexplicably, he crashed into the inside retaining wall while under caution.

Yarborough, who lost 14 laps making repairs, admitted he had no idea how it happened. 

“I just forgot what I was doing,” Yarborough said.

Baker welcomed the victory, but it was obvious it wasn’t entirely satisfying.

“After what happened to Cale [Yarborough], well, all I had to do was keep the car on the track,” Baker said. “They say a victory is a victory, but …. I mean, when was last time anyone saw Cale wreck under caution, for crying out loud?”

Baker never fully accepted the fact that he had indeed won a short-track race until Sept. 29, 1979, at Martinsville.

Driving for Harry Ranier, Baker won the Old Dominion 500, and this time, no one made it a gift.

Baker led the final 267 laps, mostly without brakes in his No. 28 Chevrolet.

Losing brakes at Martinsville, with its long straights and tight turns, is normally a death sentence.

But racing differently from his usual charging, devil-may-care style, Baker carefully and patiently nursed his car around the track to a comfortable victory over Petty.

I ran into Baker less than a week after his Martinsville victory.

“Hey!” I said. “It’s ‘Short-track Buddy!”

“Man, don’t mess with me,” Baker responded with a smile. “But I’ll tell you what, this time it really feels like I’ve won a short-track race. This one ranks as one of the most satisfying of my career.”

Undoubtedly, the most satisfying came on Feb. 18, 1980, when Baker finally won the Daytona 500, a victory which, despite all his superspeedway success, had eluded him for two decades.

It was no gift. Baker’s Ranier No. 28 Oldsmobile, powered by an engine prepared by Waddell Wilson, was so fast that its gray-and-black paint scheme made it almost impossible for other drivers to see whenever it rapidly approached.

As a result, NASCAR ordered the car to be trimmed in bright Day-Glo pink paint.

After practice and qualifying, nearly everyone conceded the race to Baker. He started on the pole, led 149 laps and, with the benefit of only 15 laps under caution, won with an average speed of 177.602 mph, a race record.

It ranks as the most significant achievement of Baker’s career.

“I’ve been trying to win this race for 20 years,” Baker said. “All I had to do was aim the car and hold on.”

“And this time, no one gave you anything, did they?” I asked him.

“Uh, well, I would have to say Waddell Wilson gave this one,” Baker said — again, with what wide, toothy smile.

“And believe me, I’ll take it.”