Cancer no match for 'Hoss'
Courtesy Action Sports PhotographyJoe Karasinski, gas man for Carl Edwards' No. 99 Ford, on missing work while undergoing treatment for cancer: "Watching somebody else do my job on TV wasn't easy."Joe Karasinski was sitting on that damn doctor's office table, the kind with the crinkly white paper that's colder than the devil's heart, and exposes you like nothing else. He'd just had an ultrasound on his thyroid, and was smack-dab in the middle of the longest 10 minutes of his life.
He knew what was coming. Didn't want to believe it. But he knew it.
The doctor finally rolled in and delivered the sledgehammer:
"You have cancer." A couple years before he began feeling run down, and visited his family doctor. Blood tests revealed an underactive thyroid, and Karasinski was shipped off to an endocrinologist, who then prescribed medication to regulate his thyroid levels.
Rather than simply refill the prescription, the endocrinologist had requested a meeting the day before this fateful exam. Joe's wife, Vikki, forced him to go. He was ready to say the hell with it -- he didn't need the medicine anyway. He's the gruff type. He'd rather tolerate the lethargy than the deal with having to alter his schedule.
But at Vikki's urging, he went. The doctor felt his neck and noticed a lump on the right side. Her facial expression shifted from easy to "weird," Joe said.
She summoned another doctor. He felt what she felt, and raised her one. He felt a lump on the left side, too. They quickly scheduled an ultrasound, but the machine was occupied. He told Joe to come back the next day.
The next day was the Wednesday before the 2008 Gatorade Duels at Daytona -- Feb. 13.
Doctors prepared Joe for what to expect. There was a lump and they had to go get it, see if they could aspirate it. But it was deep in the tissue, and Joe was no small cookie. An old crew chief nicknamed him "Hoss" for a reason. He's 6-foot-4, north of 350 pounds.
“I'm not going to lie to you, when the doctor told me I had cancer, I cried. But he said if you're going to have cancer this is the best kind to have, because we can do what we have to do to get rid of it. It was what it was. There's nothing I could do about it.
” -- Joe Karasinski
He had thick neck muscles, so the plan was to check the lymph nodes first. If anything was found there they'd stop and reassess. If not, they were going full bore after that lump.
The doctor took "six or eight" needle biopsy samples from the lymph nodes, Joe said, then took off down the hallway.
So here Joe was, sitting on that damn table, waiting for an answer that could change his life forever.
For Karasinski, life was always about race cars. When he was growing up in New Jersey, his father took Joe and his brother to the dirt track at every opportunity. The old man worked on cars, so, naturally, Joe did, too. He wasn't much into driving them. He wanted to tune on them.
There was nothing he couldn't fix.
In Jersey he'd worked at car dealerships and drove tow trucks. He hauled salvage for insurance companies and ran a parts delivery service for the state.
And on the weekends he raced. He came up through the northeast dirt circuit until he landed on Kenny Brightbill's team. Brightbill is a dirt modified legend, whom Karasinski met through another former northeast driver, Kevin Buskirk, Elliott Sadler's former crew chief.
Karasinski was in the big-time. He'd just as soon have stayed right there, but the team had no opportunities. At that point he'd made his mind up -- he headed south to NASCAR. He had some buddies down in NASCAR country, one of whom promised a job if he made the commitment.
"All I ever wanted to do is race," he said. "I came down here with nothing. When [Brightbill's team] said they didn't have nothing, that was it. I picked up and moved with no idea what I'd do, or if I'd really even have a job or not."
That was 1998. Recalling it now, Karasinski exhales with a "pshhew!" sound that says, "I can't believe I made it at all, much less been around this long."
Karasinski is the prototypical crew man. He built a life in NASCAR from the ground up. He toiled around on Nationwide Series teams and shoestring Cup deals for a few years. He worked at Curb Racing and Butch Mock's place and Midwest Transit, among others. Late in 2001, he was out of work when the phone rang. It was an old buddy from over at Mock's No. 75 team, an engineer named Scott Radel (who now helps crew Tony Stewart's car).
"He called me and said, 'Hey, you still looking for a job?'" Karasinski said. "'Yeah. I'm struggling, man. Help me out.' He said, 'Can you build a front suspension?' I said, 'I can do anything you want.' He said come down here right now and talk to Jimmy.' I said, 'Jimmy who?' He said, 'Jimmy Fennig.' I said, 'Are you serious?' He said, 'Yep, get down here. Get here today.'"
On Dec. 28, 2001, Fennig hired Karasinski to work on Kurt Busch's No. 97 car. He's been at Roush Fenway Racing ever since. He builds front suspensions for David Ragan's No. 6 cars during the week, and serves as gas man for Carl Edwards' No. 99 on Sundays.
"I'm gonna race until I can do it no more, till my knees are shot from going over the wall," he said. "I'd like to retire from doing this. I'm only 37. I'll be 38 next year. I can probably do it until I'm 50 … at least."
There was a moment when he wondered if he'd do it past 36. It was a brief moment. But when he heard the words "thyroid cancer" he couldn't help but go there.
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"I'm not going to lie to you, when the doctor told me I had cancer, I cried," he said. "But he said if you're going to have cancer this is the best kind to have, because we can do what we have to do to get rid of it. It was what it was. There's nothing I could do about it."
Karasinski is the no-nonsense type. Don't bring any woe-is-me mess his way. Yes, he had cancer. But he viewed it -- almost from the outset -- like a broken arm. He would recover. It would just take time and patience. And he had experience with thyroid cancer. His mother had had it five years before. She needed three surgeries to eradicate it, but she beat it.
"I didn't really think it was that terrible," he said. "I had a good idea how it went."
In the days following the diagnosis, Karasinski gassed the 99 as Edwards won Fontana and Vegas. The next week, though, it was time for his surgery. He had just one. Doctors removed his entire thyroid, a gland in the neck that produces hormones that regulate metabolism.
They also took some lymph nodes -- 68 to be precise, Joe said. Twelve of those were cancerous. After surgery he took a round of radiation, a treatment doctors chose, he said, because they'd removed all the cancer with the surgery.
The radiation pill looked like a vitamin capsule and came in a lead-lined canister. Doctors told him not to touch it, just to swallow it. He couldn't be near Vikki or their three dogs for a week.
He was radioactive. He had his own cup, own utensils. He had to wash his sheets and clothes separately. He didn't get sick, fortunately, and was undeterred.
"I wouldn't not get back to work," he said. "No way."
He was out for two months, and missed another win for the 99 -- at Texas. That was the hardest part of the whole ordeal. He came back at Darlington in May, and by the Coca-Cola 600 was back where he belonged -- over the wall.
"It was good to be back. Watching somebody else do my job on TV wasn't easy," he said. "It was tough to not be there, especially when they win. You feel left out."
Odd thing is many folks didn't know where he went. People who hadn't seen him figured he was fired or went on back home to Jersey. When he told them he'd been sick with cancer, they were stunned.
"They said, 'Man! If I knew I would've called you!" Karasinski said. "I said, 'Naw, man, it's not a big deal.' I say that now, but it was great to get back. I was about to go crazy."
For most of us, it would be a very big deal.
Most of us consider a tough day at work a big deal.
Most of us should take a moment to rethink that.
The Six …
Marty,
I hear a lot of people talk a lot about how much longer Jeff Gordon is going to race and how it'd be a shame if he stretches out his career and becomes a non-competitive driver, i.e. Richard Petty, Darrell Waltrip, Bill Elliott at the end of their runs. Really? Does it bother people that much to see athletes on the downside of their careers? And if so why? Is it jealousy?
I for one would race for as long as I could for as long as I had the desire and [was] having fun … especially if someone was willing to pay me MILLIONS of dollars to do so. In my opinion, to criticize someone who is getting paid by someone else to do what they love is ridiculous. I get so tired hearing this argument whether it be in NASCAR, NFL or whatever sport. What's your take on this?
-- Micah, Encinitas, Calif.
I agree with you, Micah. You're only here for a minute, so get it while you can. But I know why folks say those things. No one wants to see a once-dominant athlete flounder around in mediocrity. No man wants to see a transcendent star who once captured his imagination become just another guy. I know I don't.
That said, Jeff Gordon doesn't belong in this conversation. He's third in points. He's still winning races. Anybody who thinks Gordon is an also-ran needs a reality check.
Random: A good ol' boy patron at the Groseclose, Va., Shell station approached me last Thursday during a random fill-up en route to Bristol, introduced himself as Bubba -- it fit well -- and promptly informed me that the camera does indeed add 10 pounds. "Damn, you're skinny, man." Thanks, Bubba. That's nice.
Random II: A guy named Ziggy wrote me an expletive-laden e-mail to tell me he saw me out at the State Line Bar on Thursday night in Bristol, and specifically noted my T-shirt, which displayed the legendary General Lee of "Dukes of Hazzard" fame. I'd include the e-mail, but it had more four-letter words than a Bob Knight press conference. Ziggy tried to tell me Marty McFly's "Back to the Future" DeLorean was badder. He is certifiably insane. That's like comparing Stephen Segal to Clint Eastwood. One has a ponytail and a karate chop. The other has a .44 Magnum.
Marty,
If Kelly Bires gets in the NASCAR Nationwide Series No. 88 car, will he win, or will JR Motorsports go back to the pre-Keselowski ways?
-- Jon Corra, Parkersburg, W.V.
I believe he'll win, Jon. Kevin Harvick, for whom Bires has driven in the past, told me the young driver does a "GREAT" job. He couldn't say enough good things about Bires. Remember, we all went … "Brad Keselowski??" when Junior gave him a shot, too.
Bires can drive, and he doesn't back in the fence. I cannot explain how huge that is for Earnhardt. He told me once that he simply cannot afford to have a driver who wrecks cars. He's all about having a fast driver behind the wheel, but he's more inclined to hire a guy that is both fast and preserves equipment. That's why Shane Huffman lost that ride. Huffman was fast. Very fast. He simply wrecked too much.
The thing about Keselowski most folks overlook is cred. He made JRM a front-runner, a consistent threat, a winner. The team did the same for him. He made JRM one of the best Nationwide teams in the garage, just as it made him one of the premier drivers in the series. Earnhardt told me that himself Friday night before the Nationwide race at Bristol.
One other important point about JRM: The very reason Earnhardt founded that company was to cultivate young talent and ship them off to the big show. Keselowski is exactly what Junior wanted.
Song of the Week: "Tennessee Line." Daughtry. Swallowing your pride and setting forth to right wrongs is a difficult admittance.
Marty,
Do you think Kyle Busch will choke or make it into the Chase? How good or bad is his record at the tracks up to the Chase?
-- Sue in Western New York
Busch will make the Chase, Sue. I said so prior to Michigan and still believe it, especially after he won Bristol. His average finish at Atlanta is 18th and he has a win there. But Richmond is the kicker. Richmond is his best track. In nine starts he has seven top-5 finishes, including a victory in May.
He pulled the season sweep at Bristol, and there's nothing that says he won't do it at Richmond, too. His average finish there is sixth. One interesting stat, though: The two times he failed to finish in the top 5 both came in the fall race.
Think Busch isn't hell-bent on making it? He's already done all the mathematical scenarios. This came from the postrace press conference at Bristol:
Busch: "It's not a gaggle of guys that you're chasing. You're almost chasing a point total. That point total is 3,160. That's what I heard as a round number this week from a source. If you can total 3,160 in points, you'll make it in the Chase.
"I did the math from 3,160, minus what we were, and figured that out, divided it by three, we needed a 147-point average in these next three races, which is sixth."
Joe Gibbs: "I'm up a creek as a PE major. I dropped math. We're in trouble."
Busch: "It's better today 'cause we got 190 instead of 147. Maybe next week we only need 138, I don't know. I look a lot smarter than I am. All you need is a calculator. Trust me, you can figure it out. We're just chasing that number. If we can get that number, I think we'll be OK."
Busch has 2,911 points this season. To get to 3,160, he must average 124.5 points per race over the final two events. Thirteenth place earns 124 points.
Marty,
Is NASCAR ever going to do anything about start-and-park cars? Sad to see Max Papis' sponsored car go home and [see] Dave Blaney park it.
-- Laurie in Oregon
Nope. Like I wrote a couple weeks back, Laurie, nothing will change until a shift in philosophy occurs -- be it smaller fields or a move away from the free enterprise model. Until then, NASCAR and its fans can do nothing but grin and bear it. And I'd venture to say neither of those is happening anytime soon.
Like it or not, at this point it's pretty simple for the drivers and teams start-and-parks send home: Get faster.
Marty,
If drivers aren't allowed to race without a radio, why was Tony Stewart allowed to race for 200 laps without being able to hear his spotter?
-- Winifred Cummings, hometown unknown
Because he's Tony Stewart. NASCAR would let him race blindfolded. And if he did, he'd still do better than half of the drivers out there.
Fact is this: Stewart was able to hear his crew chief and spotter. They just couldn't hear him. That's why NASCAR let it ride.
That's my time. Thank you for yours. With that, I'm gonna let it ride. Headed to Virginia to check in on my Gran and my farm, drink a beer, shoot some guns, maybe wet a line. Not bad.
Marty Smith is a contributor to ESPN's NASCAR coverage. He can be reached at ESPNsider@aol.com.
