Sending it through to voice mail

It is that phone call the auto racing writer dreads.

"I just wanted to give you a heads up," the voicemail replays, as you glance at
the clock to see it's approaching midnight. "John Blewett was just killed in the Tour race at Thompson."

It's how I got the news Thursday night of the passing of NASCAR Whelen Modified Tour driver John Blewett III, whose life ended shortly after he and his brother, Jimmy Blewett, crashed into the turn 1 wall while battling for the lead in the New England Dodge Dealers 150 at Thompson International Speedway in Connecticut.

And, as we all are, I'm instantly reminded that we've all been through this deal far too many times, become far too callous to it. Already, in a decade on the job of covering motorsports, you know who to call, who to track down, what questions to ask, how to find out exactly what nobody wants to say aloud.

The call reminds me of my own death watches. Twice now, I've been on the premises and in front of the keys on my keyboard when a racer was killed. Tom Baldwin lost his life in a
Modified Tour race at Thompson in 2004. Kenny Irwin Jr. died in a practice crash at New Hampshire International Speedway before that.

I had to make the phone call the night Baldwin lost his life. As with Blewett's passing, though, there are numerous others where you are not so unfortunate to be the one on the premises, the ones where you rely on the phone call from a friend.

According to a Charlotte Observer story in 2006, an average of 23 people each year have been killed in racing-related incidents at short tracks since 1990.

There have been numerous close calls, too, the ones which we chalked up to a deep breath and safety innovations.

John Crawford trapped under a car while shooting footage of a PASS Outlaw Late Model race
at Unity Raceway. Modified driver Bo Gunning and his car on fire in a race at Thompson. Youngster Jordan Emerson in a coma following a racing accident last week at Beech Ridge Motor Speedway.

It is the very thing we've all become far too accustomed to, the risk of firing the engines and buckling in for 10, 100 or 500 laps.

John Blewett III certainly knew the risks and gladly faced them each week at tracks across the nation. His death saddens us all who somehow have our lives tied to auto racing.

But it was not the saddest part of Thursday night.

That honor went to some of the bloodthirsty people remaining in the grandstands at Thompson on Thursday, the ones booing NASCAR's decision to call the race with 54 laps remaing -- after a 45-minute red flag, with Blewett already dead and gone.

There's some things you just never get used to.