R.I.P. POLE POSITION

Pole Position used to matter. No longer.

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When Jeff Gordon was driving this, the pole mattered.

Ladies and gentleman, we have gathered here today to say goodbye to an old friend whose time here on earth has passed.

Farewell to you, Mr. Pole Position.

What can I say about Pole? He was the guy who once put a thrill into every Friday afternoon of a NASCAR Cup Series weekend. Back in his heyday, he was the subject of entire test sessions and specialized teams of mechanics and engine builders. He could put the entire garage on edge as everyone anticipated the moment when he would finally pick his Chosen One for the week. When that moment came, the winning team would watch the top of the pylon, see their number pop up, and then leap into the air in celebration in the same way they would for a Sunday victory.

Mr. Pole managed to draw big television numbers during the broadcasting black hole of Friday afternoon and grab big headlines in the Saturday papers. He used to pack tens of thousands of fans into the racetrack two full days before the actual race, all hoping to see their favorite stars add another trophy to their case.

When a driver posed with the Bud Pole Award, collected his check for ten large and pointed to his winning time on NASCAR's big marker board, it had all the pomp and circumstance of Sunday afternoon's Victory Lane celebration, with a double-digit number of photographers on hand to capture the moment.

Just last week, I saw a 2008 Coors Pole Award trophy being used at a race shop to prop open a restroom door.

But as he grew older, Pole's health began to fade. We should have recognized the signs earlier—the shrinking irrelevance of the check, the one engine per weekend rule—but by the time we realized he was ill, it was too late to save him.

The first big hiccup on his EKG came in 2005 when NASCAR announced that the top 35 in car owner points would be guaranteed a starting spot each week. Almost overnight, the sport's biggest teams began to mail it in on Friday afternoons. Gone were the days of specifically setting up one's car for qualifying, at least for the biggest names in the sport, all of whom wisely chose to concentrate on Sunday's race set-up.

If Jeff Gordon or Jimmie Johnson won a pole, that was great, but their once joyous celebrations were now tempered at best. Taking their cue from the superstars, even the youngsters that captured their first career number one starting spots looked less than excited when it happened. Not so long ago, such a moment would turn them into a blubbering mass of tears. Now they look irritated while having their picture taken.

Poor Mr. Pole.

NASCAR tried to ease his pain by selling fans on the excitement of watching the seven or eight lower level teams fight it out for the "go or go home" spots. The TV networks went to great lengths to explain how valuable it was to qualify well and earn the right to pick the best stall position on the pit lane. But fans weren't buying it, and soon TV ratings and ticket sales sagged along with their enthusiasm.

The ultimate Pole Position.

Our old, dear friend had never needed to be so oversold.

The last remaining reward worth fighting for was a byproduct of winning a pole. Starting up front for one race earned a driver a starting spot in the high-profile pre-Daytona 500 all-star race known as the Budweiser Shootout, an event carried live in prime time on FOX.

But last week NASCAR pulled the plug on that reward, and as a result pulled the plug on our dear friend.

No longer will the Shootout belong to Friday's fastest. Now it will be filled by a convoluted system designed to return relevance to another of our old, endangered buddies, the auto manufacturers.

Pole's cash bonus has been reduced to chump change. He no longer means the difference between making the race and not. He no longer has his own set of engine tuners and mechanics. Few people cheer when he is won and even fewer fans and media show up to see him awarded. And now he is no longer a free ticket to Daytona's all-star event.

All that's left is a nice spot on pit road. Yawn.

Just last week, I saw a 2008 Coors Pole Award trophy being used at a race shop to prop open a restroom door. For a once grand and crucial part of what racers do every week, that's a depressing reality to have to live with…and quite frankly, not enough to live for.

God Speed, Mr. Pole Position. Until we meet again, on that great banzai lap in the sky.

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