EARL HAYDEN
The FATHER
Stories from Earl’s Lane
CHRIS JONNUM
“What’s wrong, son?” chuckles the man, laying his hand gently against the young boy’s cheek. A lamp on the bedside table reveals stubborn defiance and a trembling lower lip, the little face framed by a pillowcase adorned with a motorcycle motif.
“No!” the young boy demands. “Wrong ending! Tell it again!”
And so, with mock reluctance, the man launches into what is clearly a familiar tale of a thrilling racing battle waged between protagonists identified by colorful nicknames.
A glimmer of suspicion lingers on the young boy’s rapt visage as the astonishing exploits of King Kenny and Fast Freddie tumble out until, with the imaginary conflict seemingly approaching its climax, a new character is introduced.
“But wait, who’s this?!” the man exclaims, and the young boy’s wariness morphs into gratification. “Number 69? The race program says he’s a rookie, entered as a wild card. He’s listed as an American, name of Nicky, but how can he be up to third place after starting from the last row of the grid?! And he’s not finished yet! They enter the final corner, and Nicky swoops under Fast Freddie and locks onto King Kenny’s rear tire! Now he’s pulling out of the draft, and as they cross the line, it’s Nicky by a hair!”
And with that, finally, the young boy permits Earl Hayden to tuck in the sheets, switch off the lamp, and kiss him good night.
Three and a half decades later, the racing exploits of Earl’s offspring are now complete, and the Hayden family legend is cemented. Along with older brother Tommy and younger brother Roger, the late Nicky Hayden has captured the hearts of racing fans, first on dusty Midwestern ovals, and eventually on roadrace circuits across the country and globe, the old-school “Earl’s Racing” logo accompanying them from start to finish.
Champions may be born, but they’re also made and, along with mother, Rose, the Hayden family patriarch has guided and supported his children in myriad ways: removing springs from the playroom rocking horse to develop balance; running five stopwatches while the kids (including daughters Kathleen and Jenny) spun countless laps around their farm practice track, Sunset Downs (so-named for the family’s penchant for riding until dusk); and driving the old box van through the night to get from school to another race.
“He did so much for us, and the only thing he really asked in return was to give our best effort,” Roger recalls. “That was between the races as well—out in the shed washing bikes and gear, just doing what we could. We had a mechanic, but our dad wanted us to be a part of it—not just watch TV all week and then show up when it was time to get in the truck to leave. Our teams have always liked us, and I think that goes back to our respect for them because we knew the time they were putting in. At the end of the day, it taught us about responsibility.”
“He did so much for us, and the only thing he really asked in return was to give our best effort. ”
“He didn’t have any hobbies of his own; every bit of energy and money and spare time went to help us reach our goals. ”
With three daughters of his own, the lessons are perhaps even more apt for Tommy. “He’d drive us 12,
15 hours each way nearly every weekend,” he marvels. “After I was 4 or 5, his commitment to just us was unlimited. He didn’t have any hobbies of his own; every bit of energy and money and spare time went to help us reach our goals— and that didn’t change until now, really. I think about it all the time; that unselfishness would work in whatever path you choose with your kids. Now, honestly, I look myself in the mirror and think, Could I do that for my kids? I’m more appreciative than ever.”
Of course, committing to a cause is easier when you truly believe in it, and thanks to Earl’s inspirational example, the Hayden kids were true apostles, to the extent that they viewed scrubbing race wheels more as playtime and less as a household chore. And as the examples of the family’s devotion to racing accumulated, they took the form of tales that were added to Earl’s ample canon—factual but imbued with romance through countless narrations.
Anyone who has had the good fortune to sit with “Squirrel” can attest to his yarn-spinning prowess. With a Kentucky twang, a charming lexicon, and a bottomless pool of material accumulated through a lifetime of experiences, he has regularly entertained audiences of adoring race fans, jaded journalists, and hard-nosed team personnel, just as he once enthralled the Hayden kids on Earl’s Lane in Owensboro (where race posters still cover the walls and ceiling of the little upstairs bedroom).
Since checking out library biographies of sports greats as a youth, Earl has recognized that stories have the power to teach, but also to advance careers. He once happened across a vinyl disc called Motorcycle Man: The True Story of Motorcycles, with singing by Buddy Mize, as well as spoken-word stories about actual AMA Grand National Championship racers. Earl recorded the album to play on road trips with the kids, who gained an appreciation for racing history, but he also made bootleg copies and handed them out to potential sponsors, firmly establishing his family in the minds of managers—handy when it came time for contract dispensation.
More than anything, though, Earl’s stories inspired his kids to chase their dreams—to seek a historic brotherly sweep of the 2002 Springfield TT podium; to leave behind a beloved family and live in a frigid Belgian apartment in order to face the world’s best; to be the first rider on the track and the last one off during monotonous days of testing at sweltering circuits; and even, in the Portuguese gravel at the 2006 MotoGP World Championship’s penultimate round, to dare think that a crash out of the point lead needn’t mean all is lost.
The young man lines up in fifth position and glances at “the Doctor,” who sits four grid spots and eight championship points ahead, with the crown to be decided over the next 30 laps. The Spanish crowd roars, the lights flash off, and the young man drops the clutch, rocketing forward with a lightning start. He brushes alongside his title rival’s left elbow as they hurtle down the front straight, and when the pack exits turn one, he sits several spots out of the lead, but ahead of the Doctor. Inside his helmet, the young man’s expression is calmly determined.
He already knows how this story ends.
