Two thumbs up for this year's post-season awards ceremony. The food was actually pretty good, the room was very nice, the speeches ranged from quite touching to mercifully short, and everyone looked very spiffy. Our host, Bob "Say Hello To Your New Number One Qualifier" Frey, was his normally funny self, always best with an ad-lib at just the right moment. Timing is, as they say, everything.

Going back over the many years, my first "banquet" (to be technical, I think a "banquet" includes a sit-down dinner, so many of our ceremonies have just been "shows," but everyone still calls it "the banquet") was in 1992, when I attended with Chuck Etchells and his crew (my first PR/management job with a team) and back then the banquet was held at the old Red Lion Hotel, by the Ontario Airport. I don't remember a lot other than it lasted a really long time, and the top three points finishers in each Pro class got to make a speech. I had to look it up to be sure, but Cruz Pedregon won the FC championship that year, and John Force came in second. What most people probably don't remember is that Al Hofmann finished third and therefore got to speak. He went to the podium first, and let's just say it was vintage Al because his "speech" was more of a rambling monologue about anything that was chapping his hide at the time. Nary a "thank you" or a sponsor mention included. We were, as a group at our table, alternating between laughing out loud and peeking between our fingers. After they made Al Hofmann, they broke the mold.

I recall the fact that Force came up next, and it was as if Robin Williams had just followed Andy Rooney to the stage. His "speech" was a maniacal out-of-control comedy act, full of veering tangents in a stream of consciousness, and at some point, we were all reaching for our napkins to dab away the tears running down our cheeks. Frankly, I'd never seen anything like it. I actually felt a bit sorry for Cruz, who had to follow that act, although I think they also had a hard time getting Force to stop.

Since then, we've had a wide variety of ceremonies, at places like the Cerritos Performing Arts Center, Universal Studios, and the Kodak Theater. Throughout most of those years, the CSK team would rent a huge limo and "commute" to the show, and despite the fact the car was fully stocked with any adult beverage you could think of, I recall all of us having some fun on the way there but then being sound asleep for the whole ride back. By Monday night, at the end of the season, there ain't much fuel left in the party tank...

Also, throughout those years, the banquet was more often a marathon of uncomfortable speeches, boring presentations, and lame skits or musical entertainment. My gosh, it seemed like they let anyone with an index card in his hand get up there and ramble on for 15 minutes. Sometimes the skits were funny (they did a video parody of "The Sopranos" one year, which included the Snake in a starring role, and that really was very humorous), but mostly they were groaners, followed by yet another executive with no public speaking expertise, stepping to the microphone to drone on for a quarter-hour about the history of his involvement with the sport, in a sort of "I started out as a child..." fashion. It was, quite often, a night of agony that would stretch on until we'd all taken four bathroom breaks and basically couldn't stand another minute of it.

Fortunately, this year's banquet was a concise, well-run breeze. We gathered in the lower level of the Hyatt for a reception first (although there were no signs pointing you down the escalators, so about half the group simply gathered in the lobby), and that hour was spent circulating, admiring each other's formal wear and congratulating each other on another successful year. There was also much talk of brief vacations or other off-season plans. Once the lights flashed, we all headed into the beautiful ballroom and found our tables. We were seated at A-22, at the back of the main lower level and right in the middle, and the Tasca team was next to us, although they needed three extra seats so Bob's mom and dad sat with us, along with my PR colleague Susan Pollack.

Almost immediately, the "sorry if you wanted rubber chicken because you have to take this filet mignon" dinner was brought out, and we all immediately made it obvious that we were hungry. Not a lot of talking going on when you wolfing down dinner and grabbing dinner rolls. As planned, I sat between Krista Wilkerson and my best buddy Rachel, who (as previously noted in the Wednesday blog) looked simply marvelous.

All during dinner, a slide show was showing on the big screens throughout the room, and I had been warned by ND photographer Jerry Foss that I was in it. As soon as he said that, I knew the photo he was talking about... Yup, I think we were in Phoenix when he walked right up to me and stuck the lens in my face, at which point I did what any insanely handsome man would do: I crossed my eyes. My mother would be so proud, but I'm living proof that they don't get stuck that way. Sure enough, about halfway through the slide show (which was on a continuous loop and therefore ran about 20 times during dinner) a 12-foot high version of me appeared, eyes firmly focused on the tip of my nose. Ah, my 15 minutes of fame!

About the fourth time it appeared, Tim turned to anyone near our table and said "There's our guy. We actually pay him..."

Once dinner was done, the esteemed Mr. Frey took the stage, and one of the first items was a nice season recap video, with all sorts of highlights from 2009 and a lot of great people shots. One of those included Neighbor Dave and I doing our "slap, slap, bump, explode" fist-bump behind the car, after which I turn to the ESPN camera, point at either Nelly or Dana (no clue which one of them shot the scene) and did a fist bump with him. Tack on another eight seconds to my 15 minutes of fame...

From that point on, the show moved quite briskly, with each of the four Pro classes being introduced. If you've never seen it, the methodology is for points finishers 2 through 10 to come out as a group, and then each driver is introduced with a very short video. They get to step forward and wave, and then it's on to the next one. Finally, the champ is introduced solo, and he or she gets to come out and make a speech.

For the record, Hector Arana's speech was from the heart and totally unrehearsed. So unrehearsed, he forgot a few people and actually asked Frey if he could make amends for that after he was done. From that point forward, throughout the night, Bob kept looking at Hector in the audience, saying "Anything else you need to add, Hector? Are we good? Forget anyone else?"

Mike Edwards' speech was about as motivational as you can get, full of meaningful messages. Robert Hight had the foresight to bring his whole crew up on stage with him, and his speech was also well- delivered. He only had a little emotional trouble when it came time to thank Force, his boss, mentor, and father-in-law. Finally, Tony Schumacher came to the stage, and frankly you'd think this would be old hat for him. He actually pointed at Robert and said "I can't believe you thought to do that and I didn't" about having the crew on stage, and then he calmly and seriously spoke of Fort Hood and how he was going to take his Wally down there for the grieving families. The Sarge did a great job.

In between classes, there were other awards to give out, including Spencer Massey's rookie of the year trophy, and a few key speeches from Tom Compton and the Coca-Cola folks. All in all, we were dressed up for about three and a half hours, then let all the youngsters kick up their heels at the after-party. Dave and I headed straight to our rooms, and I can tell you with no exaggeration that I then attempted to check my e-mail and caught myself nodding off at the desk in my room. Straight to bed it was...

I did have some time to kill in the morning, before my 3:20 flight out of LAX, so I took the rental car over to Santa Monica, then over through Brentwood and Westwood, down the El Segundo, and then finally to the airport.

Now... It's Friday and Dave just called with some marketing assignments we have to tackle RIGHT NOW, so I have to wrap this up and get to work. Enjoy the photos, enjoy the weekend, and maybe send a few positive vibes to our struggling hockey team. The Wild play the New York Islanders tonight, and we'll be there in our Row 2 seats, hoping they pick up the pace and look a little better than they have so far this season.

See you soon,

Wilber, out!