Ryan: NASCAR can't police concussions

• Dale Earnhardt Jr. drove away from a wreck Sunday at Talladega Superspeedway
• But he had a concussion, something NASCAR counts on drivers to self-report
• Four-time champion Jeff Gordon said he might not pull himself out of the car if he was in a title fight

There would seem no more damning and scathing indictment of NASCAR's concussion policy.

In announcing Thursday he would skip the next two Sprint Cup races after sustaining a concussion, Dale Earnhardt Jr. admitted he raced for roughly five weeks at less than peak mental acuity, gambling his reflexes would still be sharp enough to withstand the inherently perilous conditions of driving a car at 200 mph.

And this occurred 10 years after NASCAR's most popular driver conceded he had raced for three months while his brain remained foggy from a wicked early-season collision.

That admission prompted major changes that included detailed medical records, at-track nursing liaisons and more stringent standards for being cleared after a head injury.

Yet none of it prevented Earnhardt from climbing into his No. 88 Chevrolet in a sport where an improper flick of a wrist or the slip of a steering wheel can send a driver to an emergency room — or worse.

In many ways, that's an unmitigated PR disaster for NASCAR.

Yet it also is a nearly unavoidable one.

In the same category as fans who watch races only for the wrecks, another of motor sports' dirty little secrets is this: Drivers easily can disguise debilitating injuries that could put themselves and their peers at high risk, and they have plenty of incentive to do it.

NASCAR has been ruled for decades by an autocratic regime, but the limitations of that power come sharply into focus when it's incumbent on the stars to come clean.

That's unlikely to happen anytime soon.

While four-time champion Jeff Gordon lauded his Hendrick Motorsports teammate for taking himself out of the car, he admitted he would have a hard time making the same decision.

"If I have a shot in the championship and my head is hurting, I'm not going to say anything. It's not the way it should be, but it's something most of us would do. That's what gets a lot of us in trouble."

Earnhardt regretted he stubbornly didn't see a doctor after a wicked testing wreck Aug. 29 at Kansas Speedway, but he fretted it might remove him from the car indefinitely ahead of the Chase.

Few in NASCAR, which has been fueled by machismo and bull-headed toughness since its 1948 inception, would have blamed him.

NASCAR isn't analogous to most pro sports that afford the luxury of players missing games without significant penalty.

Skip a race in the Chase for the Sprint Cup, and you forfeit the championship. Miss a few races anytime during the season, and you risk losing your ride.

The concussion debate has been centered on the NFL, which is facing high-profile lawsuits and scrutiny as players die and slip into dementia after a lifetime as human battering rams. Now the honesty coming from two of NASCAR's biggest stars in Earnhardt and Gordon will bring a white-hot spotlight on stock-car racing.

Senior vice president Steve O'Donnell said NASCAR would re-examine its handling of concussions, a reasonable response but one that will likely have limited impact. The neurosurgeon who saw Earnhardt estimated that 90% of concussion diagnoses depend on patients disclosing symptoms.

And in racing, the failure to self-police could have deadly implications.

"The difference in our sport is that when you're unable to make great decisions or you lose your focus, the potential is there for others to get hurt," points leader Brad Keselowski said. "If you can't focus (in football), you miss the play. In racing, if you can't focus, you knock the wall down or you wreck somebody."

An accident can be avoided by stomping a brake pedal. A concussion can be diagnosed by consulting a doctor.

But with both cases in NASCAR, the impetus lies solely with a driver.

It won't come by fiat from a sanctioning body.

Earnhardt has proved that twice.