BusinessTN

Think of Bristol Motor Speedway as NASCAR's Wrigley Field, a place whose allure seems to overpower the shortcomings of the sport.

Granted, racing enthusiasts haven't suffered the Job-like burden borne by Cubs fans. But between a recession that has drained race-goers' pockets and siphoned off sponsorship dollars, and the paling of NASCAR's colorful character, Bristol remains unique in its ability to fill seats. Last summer, as most tracks struggled with disappointing gates, BMS celebrated its 55th consecutive sell-out—a NASCAR record.

Preserving that streak didn't come easy. BMS is operating in an industry whose corporate sponsors have cut their marketing budgets while others, like General Motors and Texaco, have dropped out of the race altogether. Meanwhile, blue-collar dollars are scarcer than ever. Pressure to fill its 160,000 permanent seats, which make it the third-largest spectator facility in the world, hit Bristol hard last spring. For the first time, it began promoting its August night race, once "the toughest ticket in NASCAR."

Jeff Byrd, BMS's president and general manager, says aggressive marketing is the new norm for Bristol.

"That’s part of the permanent condition now," Byrd says. "But it's really the economic downturn that's forced us just to examine and reexamine everything that we do to make sure that we haven't lost focus on the end user, which is the fan base."

Bristol season tickets are now value-added packages, he says, and upcoming season ticket holders will have a payment plan option.

But racing promoter H.A. "Humpy" Wheeler thinks that NASCAR has lost more rich folks than Average Joes.

"That upper-echelon person is not going to camp out unless they've got a rock-star motor home. The rest of the people, they'll put a tent up there if they have to," he says.

Bristol's gone to great lengths to attract and retain those high-end customers, Byrd says. Taking a cue from new NFL and NBA stadiums, BMS built more and smaller corporate skyboxes. Now it has 197, the most of any track, "and for all intents and purposes, they were all full for the August race." Still, he says, he's had to work to hold onto harder-hit clients through the downturn. "We know business isn't any good now, so we've bent over backwards to come up with some terms that would keep them here, because we know their business is going to get better."

What doesn't seem to be getting better is creeping public discontent with NASCAR itself. Wheeler ticks off a list of ills—largely, he says, the result of the "corporatization" of racing—that he thinks are hurting the sport's bottom line: Drivers who'd rather win points than swap paint. Teams that change colors faster than a pit stop. And the loss of star power in a sport where nobody wants to be—or sponsor—a villain. "You can't have a big personality unless that personality has a foil," he explains.

Byrd admits he's heard—and sometimes shares—some fans' "selective memory" about NASCAR's more audacious heyday. "We kept hearing people my age saying the race isn't the way it used to be -- not at Bristol, not anywhere," he says. Bristol’s "Saturday Night Specials," launched last year in response to those complaints, put former legends like Carl Yarborough, Harry Gant and Junior Johnson back on the track. "Of all the things we've done here in 13 years," he says, "I don't think we've had anything that's given us more positive feedback."

The response has been less consistent about the 2007 reconfiguration of Bristol's famously steep, concrete track. "Some people like it; some people don't," Byrd says. Those who don’t are television viewers. "That's who we hear from, because 75% of NASCAR tracks' experience may be better watched on TV than in person. At Bristol, it's exponentially better being here than it is to watch it on TV."

Ultimately, that's what keeps the fans coming to BMS. There's a contagious vibe when 160,000 people pack an amphitheater overlooking "the World's Fastest Half Mile"; a certain kinship when every seat's a good one; a sense of community when, for three weeks a year, modest Bristol, Tenn., drops what it's doing to accommodate the throngs who will reciprocate with an economic impact of over $400 million.

"If you were starting a track today, from a clean slate, Bristol would not be a place you would probably pick to build a track," Wheeler says. "You'd go into major markets, top-50 markets. And here you've got an enigma -- Bristol literally is outgrowing every track on the circuit today, with the exception of Daytona."

Byrd answers with the words of Bruton Smith, whose Speedway Motorsports Inc. bought BMS in 1996: "I could build another Bristol, but I couldn't find another Bristol to build it in."