On Sponsors And Door Numbers And The Pursuit Of Change

On Wednesday, NASCAR development driver Harrison Burton teased a new paint scheme announcement for his K&N Pro Series East ride. In the age of full-body wraps, a new paint scheme seems like little to get worked up about. And, indeed, the new scheme incorporated a bunch of known elements: the same manufacturer, the same car number, the same sponsor Burton has had for a few years now.

But it was the order in which those elements were applied that made all the difference.

Burton's new car has the contingency decals predictably laid out on the front fender and door, his name scribed over the driver's window, the car number proudly atop the roof of the car. But on the door itself, Dex Imaging stretches across the composite panel to the top of the rear fender. The car number that used to fit on the door now occupies the rear quarter panel, nestled under the fuel filler.

If you remember the waning days of the American Speed Association, or if you've seen IMCA-style modifieds, the new layout should be pretty familiar.

Burton's social-media preview was accompanied by an announcement that NASCAR will allow teams in the K&N Pro Series and Pinty's Series to experiment with the new layout this year. (Burton will not even be the one to debut the layout; several teams in NASCAR's Peak Mexico Series showcased a similar layout in their season opener a couple weeks ago.) The assumption is that NASCAR hopes the new layout might prove more attractive to potential team sponsors. And if it catches on in the minor leagues, perhaps it could work its way up to the major leagues.

At the risk of being too negative, I hope it doesn't.

I was actually sort of hesitant to express an opinion at all. NASCAR has shown a willingness to consider changing just about anything, and they've taken a fair share of criticism for it. I didn't want to be another of the dissenting voices complaining just to complain. One fan described some of the predictable sentiment: "I don't like it because I don't like it."

But if you can defend an opinion, it's worth sharing.

First things first: I understand the positives of the new layout. Tony Johns, a racing writer and livery designer, pointed out how NASCAR's insistence on manufacturer identity (that is, the fake taillights and body vents and door handles) crowds some of the traditional sponsor real estate on the rear of the car. Especially on the rear of some cars, the space left over is nearly unusable. And the car numbers, once a necessity for manual scoring, are less necessary in the world of transponder scoring. In a market where sponsors are no longer an easy sell, better visibility could translate to a better investment. I get that.

And if NASCAR instituted this tomorrow in the national series, of course it wouldn't make me walk away from racing. As changes go, it's pretty superficial, and ultimately, we'll have no choice but to get over it.

That doesn't mean I have to love the change.

I'll be honest that I never liked the aesthetic when it debuted in the ASA thirteen years ago. With the number at the tail and the contingencies still in their mandated arrangement at the front edge of the door, the cars looked unbalanced. And for those teams without a sponsor, the cars looked awkwardly naked and incomplete. Maybe it's a case of the Uncanny Valley, the same way those one-piece composite bodies in the East and West Series never looked right to me. Maybe it's because I associate that look with the last year the ASA ran, and it was somewhat representative of the series' fall from grace. Maybe it reminds me of short-track cars where rules about appearance are more just suggestions. Maybe it's just because it looks awkward.

Part of it is identity. Since the 1960s, the layout of a stock car's graphics has been mostly unchanged: number on roof, numbers on doors, contingencies on front fenders, main sponsors on hood, rear fenders and bumper. It's clean, concise, and predictable. I'd argue that it establishes a visual identity: This is a stock car. And it's recognizable as a stock car to motorsports fans and non-fans alike.

Big, visible car numbers were cited as a vestige of manual scoring. I'd argue that car numbers have become a more integral part of stock car racing. In sports cars, much as in F1, you recognize the car by the livery as a total package; the number merely tells you which of the team's entries it is. But in stock car racing, car numbers are a major component of a team's or driver's identity. They're stylized and trademarked, and persist through sponsor and livery and driver changes. Sometimes they're even part of the sponsorship package, like Kyle Petty's deal with 7-Eleven in the 1980s. Sometimes they're a family legacy, like Martin Truex, Jr.'s old #56 or Chase Elliott's #9 in the minor leagues. Fans have expectations married to those numbers, sometimes to the edge of reason and beyond. When Mike Skinner, a former Truck Series champ in the #3, considered using the number for a new Toyota team, fan outcry drove him to select a new number. Sometimes they even seep into popular culture. When Tallahassee painted a white "3" on his truck's door in "Zombieland," no explanation or backstory was necessary, even though racing had nothing to do with the movie in the least.

The new look is akin to Australia's V8 Supercars or our IMSA sports cars. Supporters of the new layout have suggested NASCAR go even further in that direction, relocating the car number to the side window or to a door placard like a sports car. I like the look of sports cars and rally cars, don't get me wrong. But I'd rather see stock cars look like stock cars, and rally cars look like rally cars, and sports cars look like sports cars, and V8 Supercars look like V8 Supercars. Let each form of racing have its own visual identity, something even non-fans can identify.

Part of me feels like this is an answer to a question no one is asking. A lot of sponsors have left racing in recent years, citing management changes or a desire to spend money elsewhere. Motorsports marketing is not the easy sell it was in the late 1990s. But is it a question of not enough space on a rolling billboard? The only time I've had trouble recognizing sponsors, it's been the fault of the scheme, not the size of the logos. I realize that's not the case for everyone. And maybe this change will entice a couple sponsors. But I don't think that it's going to generate the extra bang for the buck that marketing people want to see.

If it doesn't, what is the purpose of the change?

Perhaps that's how we end up at the snap judgments and the "I don't like it because I don't like it" arguments. I don't envy NASCAR. They're balancing a big TV deal and a new series sponsor with declining attendance and TV ratings. We're reminded of the declines every week. NASCAR has been trapped in a vicious "do-something" cycle where they're expected to take action to stop the bleeding. And so they're making changes. Changes to the cars. Changes to the points system. Changes to race procedure. Now, maybe, changes to aesthetics.

There is a tipping point at which established fans become frustrated with the feeling that everything is changing for the sake of change. A lot of fans have already hit that tipping point.

Some have criticized fans for latching onto the notion of tradition, and that tradition for the sake of tradition is no better than change for the sake of change. I don't think this is necessarily about tradition; engine displacement decals and trunk numbers and crew dossiers were once part of a paint scheme, and have largely faded away on the national stage. If this were about tradition, fans would have lamented years ago, when teams went to decals and vinyl wraps instead of hand-painting the sponsor on the fender. (Maybe some of them did. We didn't have Twitter then.)

This is about a change that has a questionable endgame. Maybe I'm wrong and sponsors will be awakened from their slumber at the notion of having a little more square footage to advertise. But if the same viewers are watching, does the size of the rolling billboard matter? The one thing we get for sure is a changed layout on the side of our beloved race cars. A well-designed stock car is a thing of beauty, something that quickens your pulse, something that triggers something you can't necessarily put into words. And I can't say that this new design gives me the same rush of emotion.

Will new livery layouts change NASCAR racing? No. Will they change the way we experience the sport? Probably not a whole lot. But that doesn't mean that we can't question the need for the change.