NASCAR's Kurt Busch Trys Firefighting With FDNY

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You really can learn a lot from a dummy

Day with New York firefighters a lesson in toughness

By Marty Smith, NASCAR.COM

November 30, 2004

04:31 PM EST (21:31 GMT)

 

NEW YORK -- In my mind there is no more admirable or honorable profession than that of firefighter. These individuals fight the good fight every single day of their lives, willfully placing themselves in harm's way in the effort to preserve the lives and belongings of complete strangers.

 

Marty Smith 

 

Doesn't get much more noble than that, especially in the "me-first" world we inhabit.

So after 9/11, and after having the privilege of meeting several New York City firemen since, I didn't think my respect level for the trade could soar much higher.

Boy was I wrong. Way wrong.

It's Tuesday morning, and I'm tagging along with Nextel Cup champion Kurt Busch for a hands-on tour of the FDNY training facility in Randall's Island. As part of Busch's weeklong championship appearance schedule, he, along with Nextel and NASCAR executives are on hand to thank the firemen for their efforts and donate Irwin Power Tools and Nextel phones to their cause.

This is no typical shake hands, take pictures, sign autographs, hit the road deal.

This is "Hey man, nice to meetcha. We're about to kick your butt."

During the visit, Busch and I are recruited to perform the entry-level physical fitness entrance test to the FDNY. Well, half of it, anyway. (Good thing we were only required to do half. We both crossed the finish line snot-nosed and spaghetti-legged. More on that later.)

Busch is the first celebrity to ever attempt the test, which according to the firemen measures aerobic capacity using typical tasks fire fighters face. I say it tests one's determination to block out fatigue, pain, dizziness, nausea and mental breakdown.

The facility is a gray warehouse with a concrete floor that was set as a pseudo city street. On the left side of the street is a pair of brick buildings, one with a stoop, an auto garage, a hardware store, a pizza parlor and an outdoor staircase. On the other side is another brick building that includes a paint store, a jewelry store and a laundromat.

Upon arrival there, we're outfitted in fire fighting gear from head-to-toe. Just getting dressed is draining.

Then there are the boots. Since I was borrowing the gear, I had to make due, but I'm walking on the tops of my toes. The boots are about size 9. I wear 12s. No one ever said fighting fires was comfortable.

Now dressed, it's time for a quick tutorial from one of the pros. My man is a machine, slicing through the four-stop course using precise movements and focus. Though his display says otherwise, this is no easy course:

Phase 1: The student must start stationary, grab the sprayer head of the hose, throw it over his shoulder and run some 50 feet to a yellow plastic barrel, then weave around that barrel 90 degrees to the right for another 25 feet before coming to rest in a box painted on the concrete floor.

Once inside the box, the student turns 180 degrees, kneels and begins pulling the fire hose towards him and into the box. The student continued to pull the hose until the first hose joint lands inside the box. Once that is completed, the student stands up, walks through an array of cones placed on the floor to Phase 2.

Phase 2: The easiest of the four. The student is required to erect a ladder from the prone position using each individual rung on the ladder. Once complete, the student weaves through more stationary cones to Phase 3.

Phase 3: Walk to a sledgehammer resting on the floor, pick it up and start blasting away at a waist-high rubber target until the "door breaks down," i.e. a horn sounds. Once the horn sounds, student lays down sledgehammer and walks to Phase 4.

Phase 4: Pure Hell. The student must grab a 175-lb dummy under it's arms and drag it some 30 feet to a yellow plastic barrel, continue around the barrel and back to its original position.

Thank heavens they let us slide on the 40-pound vest.

Four folks -- two legit firemen, Busch and myself -- are set to race the clock. First up was fireman No. 1. He smokes the course (no pun intended) in about a minute, 20 seconds.

As he meanders through the course, butterflies are welling in my stomach. A rather large group of cadets, who will take the test for real upon our departure, are watching intently.

I'm nervous as a sixth grader playing spin the bottle, but it was time to roll.

I make it through the first two phases fine, but the third presents a slight issue. It had taken fireman No. 1 only five swings to sound the horn. It took me 10, and I later find out that those watching were worried I might let go of the sledgehammer. Wonderful.

Next is the dummy drag, which judging by the tutor and fireman No. 1 is obviously the toughest of the four tasks. Even the professionals had some trouble, so I knew Busch and I were doomed.

If I were to write what went through my mind when I reached down and grabbed the dummy, I'd get a 50-point penalty. That thing weighed a ton.

After walking backwards and pulling with both arms during the first half of the dummy pull, I attempt to turn around and drag it by one arm. Bad idea. Face plant. I lose valuable seconds.

Finally, I cross the finish line in 1:46 with wobbly knees and a churning stomach. Not great, but not bad for a first-timer.

Another pro scorches the course, and it's Busch's turn. His effort mirrors mine. He's stellar in the first two phases but struggled mightily with Phases 3 -- it takes him some 12 swings to sound the horn -- and 4.

All said, he finishes seven seconds behind me at one minute, 53 seconds and on the verge of revealing what he had for breakfast.

"I knew the dummy would be the toughest part," Busch said. "That thing was bigger than I am. It was like dragging an anvil across a beach."

 

Smith tries desperately to "sound the horn." Credit: Walter Arce/Action Sports 

 

Busch weighs 145 pounds. The dummy had him by 30.

"I saw the firemen using different techniques, then I saw you struggle with it, so I was like, 'Oh no, I'm in trouble.' It was a great learning experience, though.

"We go out and drive around for four hours and it's nothing compared to that one minute, 45 seconds where the muscles in my legs were so fatigued it was hard to keep moving."

It is definitely an eye-opener. Just when I think my respect for these guys can't get any higher, along comes a dummy.

Take it from me, that whole "You can learn a lot from a dummy" deal is the gospel.

Marty Smith is a senior writer for NASCAR.COM. His column appears periodically during the offseason.