We’ve lost Dale Earnhardt.

Mike Helton’s words ripped a hole that night 10 years ago in a crowded and silent media workroom at Daytona International Speeday. The searing anguish that was so visible in Helton’s face was soon felt by millions. Today it’s a shared sorrow because the loss of Earnhardt’s undeniable talent, swagger and ruthless determination turned a seven-time NASCAR champion into a man who transcended the sport.

Forget for a moment that he made the successful transition from North Carolina country-boy stock car racer to the creator and manager of a multimillion-dollar enterprise. Or that he could drive the relatively unsophisticated race cars of the early decades of his career into victory lane as easily as the technological marvels of the 1990s.

Who he was made him a hero to legions of fans. Not what he was. His championships and his victories and his wealth got your attention but it was his attitude and personality that got your respect. Or your wrath if he just pushed aside your favorite driver with that too familiar black-and-silver No. 3 car.

When he stepped out of the race car, Earnhardt’s grin — critics sometimes called it a smirk — could warm just as his glare could chill. But not always. At the 1995 championship banquet, Jeff Gordon walked to the podium to speak and let the tears flow. It was his first title, won after a season-long duel with Earnhardt. The camera cut to Earnhardt, seated at his table. He shook his head in apparent disgust at Gordon’s waterworks.

In fact, in private Earnhardt was very gracious with friends and family. He and Gordon were friendly, and Earnhardt toasted his rival’s success.

Helton was NASCAR’s new president in 2001, taking over for Bill France, Jr. We were waiting for Helton to give us the official word that Earnhardt had died in his race car on the last lap of the Daytona 500 after hitting the wall in Turn 4. We suspected the worst. Fellow driver Ken Schrader was involved in the crash and had climbed from his car to run to Earnhardt. Schrader put his head in the window and quickly retreated, frantically waving his arms, summoning track workers. Schrader then looked for Dale Earnhardt Jr., who had parked his car and was running to the scene. They spoke briefly.

Hours later, a colleague took his seat next to mine in the infield media workroom, telling me that track workers and NASCAR officials were crying in the garage area, already mourning.

I called my editor and suggested that this was no longer a sports story. Soon, I was talking to another editor who questioned whether a stock car champion’s death warranted a place on the front page of the newspaper. Desperate, I asked what we would do if Michael Jordan suffered a fatal heart attack on the basketball court, while apologizing under my breath to Jordan for even thinking of such a terrible thing.

Maybe I should have used the shooting of John Lennon as my example. Whether you were a Beatles fan or not, Lennon’s death also ripped a hole in us.

The Earnhardt story went on the front of the Portland Press Herald that Monday.

Mention Earnhardt’s death and I always remember the passing of two others. NASCAR’s future, Adam Petty, was killed during practice at New Hampshire Motor Speedway the previous May. I was one of a small contingent of media there. The grief was raw. Petty was the grandson of Richard, the son of Kyle. A wonderful kid, full of promise. Two months later, almost on the same place on the same track, Kenny Irwin was gone.

Ten years ago, Irwin was part of NASCAR’s present. Davey Allison had died in a helicopter crash returning to his home after racing at New Hampshire and Irwin had later moved into his car. Seven months after Irwin’s death, Earnhardt was gone. As I went outside to get comments from fans still at the speedway, I was glad the darkness hid my face. Three deaths, three times feeling other’s pain.

Earnhardt’s death lit the fire under NASCAR to improve driver safety. It didn’t help Petty, Irwin and Earnhardt, but in the last 10 years, no other driver has been lost in a Cup race.

I get that and applaud that, but the words “we’ve lost Dale Earnhardt” still cut. What if he was still with us?

Other generations will find new heroes. This one hasn’t.

Staff Writer Steve Solloway can be contacted at 791-6412 or at:

ssolloway@pressherald.com