The media and #Danicky

There seems to be an ongoing debate among Nascar media whether the relationship between Danica Patrick and Ricky Stenhouse Jr. is a story that should continue to be pursued or should be dropped now that it has been dutifully reported.

Should we write about the reaction of others in the Nascar garage? Should we analyze the risks? Or should we let it go?

The answers: Yes, yes, and that depends.

It is our job as beat reporters to write what people are reading about and discussing on Twitter, Facebook and message boards. Patrick is one of the most popular drivers in all of racing. And right now, #Danicky is a part of the ongoing Nascar conversation. To ignore that would be to ignore your own readers, and ultimately send them to your competitors.

That's not to say we should mine this story ad infinitum at the expense of other storylines. And based on the headlines I see, plenty of other topics are being written about right now from the new generation racecar to Brad Keselowski's empty fountain of love.

But remember, too, this is the offseason. There aren't races to cover and on-track incidents to scrutinize. The Busch brothers haven't pissed anybody off today (well, as far as we know).  The relationship between Patrick and Stenhouse is the only head-turning news story to come out since Keselowski won the title in November.

So yes, it's interesting and pertinent to hear what Dale Earnhardt Jr., the most popular driver in the sport whose love life has been internet fodder for years, has to say about Patrick's new relationship. And it's worth the time to explore the issues on the track raised by the relationship. Even Jeff Gordon, whose messy divorce years ago was once headline fodder, acknowledged the reality of news coverage of celebrity athletes.

"I may not have liked it but understood it was a story," Gordon responded on twitter when I asked him about it last week.

Will it continue to be a story? You can blame Patrick and Stenhouse for making sure it will be in Daytona. By waiting until after the annual Nascar media tour in Charlotte to confirm the relationship, they have avoided answering any questions about it. Those questions inevitably will come up during future tests and at Daytona.

Beyond that, the longevity of this story depends on Patrick and Stenhouse. The way they race each other will be closely scrutinized. If there are more stories, it's because of what they do on the track and in the garage to create them. At least to some degree, it's up to them.

I don't know what Nascar thinks about all of this. But for a sport that desperately wants to be part of the mainstream conversation, few drivers have given fans more to talk about than Patrick since she arrived in 2010. And now she has found love in the Nascar garage.

I'm sure they're already working on the screenplay. You think they can get Kristen Stewart to play Danica?

My secret fear

When I was 18 years old I remember sitting in the balcony at Shea Stadium during a Mets game and watching the jets take off from nearby La Guardia Airport. I had been on jets before, but something struck me as I watched them rise over the stadium that day: Total fear.

I told myself I would never fly again.

Of course, I couldn’t have reached my goals as a professional sportswriter without flying. So I found a way to control my fear and went on to write for the Hartford Courant, Detroit Free Press and New York Times, among other publications, and covered everything from the Super Bowl to the Stanley Cup finals and the Daytona 500.

I still hate flying. I still panic at every takeoff, counting 120 seconds each time before I can begin breathing normally again. I still clutch the armrests after every bump and banking turn. But I manage that fear and I go on with my life.

Except that now I’ve developed another fear I can’t seem to manage. And I need help, because it is stopping me from doing the things I want to do in my life. So maybe somebody out there will read this and know what I can do to get past it.

Let me start by saying, as someone who resides a bit closer to the ground than most folks, I have always had a fear of heights. I don’t like cliffs. I would never skydive. I always hated that metal bridge on the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut. Did they ever pave that thing?

But it never paralyzed me while driving until I vacationed on St. John in the Virgin Islands years ago. Something about those steep hills and cliffs and vertical hairpin turns got to me. I remember driving up a hill and stopping in the middle and backing down, because I was afraid to go any higher. I had never had a problem like that before. But it happened twice on that trip.

The fear returned with me from St. John. Suddenly, hills that I had driven before panicked me. Whenever I had to drive along the edge of a mountain, where I could see nothing but sky in front of or alongside of me, a fear engulfed me and I couldn’t drive. I had to get out of the car and let my travel companion take the wheel. It has happened many times. But even then, as a passenger, I could barely stand it.

Over time, it has gotten progressively worse. I hit bottom during a hiking trip to Utah in April. Have you ever driven on Route 9 up and down the switchback through Zion National Park? If you have, you know what I’m talking about. Hairpin turns with nothing but sky and a thousand-foot drop down in front of you. There was no way I could have driven it myself. If I had attempted it, I have no doubt I would have driven off the cliff because I was so panicked I wouldn’t have been able to tell the brake from the accelerator pedal. I’m not kidding -- it was that bad. Even as a passenger, I could barely get through it, sweaty palms gripping the arm rests, feet pressed against an imaginary brake as I begged the driver to go slow.

During a recent trip to the North Carolina mountains, I found myself panicked again as I drove the Blue Ridge Parkway to a hiker’s trail head. With nowhere to pull off to the side, I had to stop the car in the middle of the parkway, get out and let my travel companion drive the rest of the way. After that, she said she didn’t want to go on these hikes anymore because it was too hard for me.

But I don’t want to stop hiking. I don’t want to stop hiking in the mountains, either. Some of the most beautiful hikes in the world are up there, and I don’t want to miss them. I want to go back to Utah to hike a place called The Wave. But to do it, I’ll have to go up and down that Zion switchback again. Just the thought of it raises my heart rate.

No, I don’t want to take pills to get through this. Nor do I want to lie down in the car so I can’t see – that does nothing to alleviate the fear. So what do I do? Are there any other options?

No jokes, please. This isn’t funny to me.