Getting saucy at ‘Dega with Friday night BBQ wrestling in the infield

On one side a saloon designed to look like something out of the Old West. To the right a beer tent, and across from that a flatbed trailer where NASCAR drivers Kevin Harvick, Clint Bowyer, Ricky Stenhouse Jr. and Austin Dillon served as MCs for the festivities.

There was also fire truck nestled against the makeshift grandstand, where five firefighters stood atop to watch the action unfold. In every space in between were people, with the vast majority of the men clad in either camouflage cargo shorts or blue jeans, almost all consuming beer — lots and lots of beer.

Country music played, American flags flew in the background and hovering overhead, a slight haze of smoke. Of course, what party wouldn’t be complete without beads, which were prevalent around the necks of many a man.

It was the quintessential redneck arena.

And in the middle of it all was a 500-gallon pool of barbeque sauce where women would wrestle; the reason an estimated 1,500 fans had gathered here inside the infield Friday night at Talladega Superspeedway.

Yes, wrestle in barbeque sauce. Not Jell-O. Not mud. Ole Smoky Moonshine barbeque sauce made with actual 100 proof White Lightnin.’

The frivolity was designed to restore some of the zaniness that used to define Talladega, but had been toned down in recent years for a variety of reasons. Mission accomplished, with a vibe feeling very much like Sturgis only without the motorcycles.

One of the participants was Ellen, a 20-something from Long Island, New York, making her first visit to NASCAR’s rowdiest track. Celebrating a birthday party for a friend, Ellen figured “why not?” and readily volunteered.

Ellen was no stranger to such an activity; she did something similar in college — except in lube.“It’s Talladega, you got to have fun. I’m just here to have a good time,” she said like an exuberant spring breaker.

The common reaction from the wrestlers as they were hosed down by a firefighter was that the barbeque sauce stung their eyes and made it easy to fall.

Wrestling wasn’t the only event on the card, as another southern staple served at the preliminary: a moon pie eating contest. Held on the flatbed trailer acting as a stage for the NASCAR drivers, a cast of six characters took part.

They included a man dressed as an Oompa Loompa; a college-aged man who had written “Buck Wylde” in black sharpie on the front of his camouflaged tank top; a shorter man of unknown age who impressively crafted a vest made from the tops of chewing tobacco canisters; a man dressed like a superhero who probably should have been nicknamed Captain Intoxicated; and a lone woman.

Ah yes, the woman, whose friend was in utter disbelief that Harvick and Bowyer had selected her from the crowd. “I can’t believe they chose my girlfriend,” the friend shouted.

What she failed to realize was that her friend’s participation in the contest likely had to do with the fact she was wearing a revealing top, featuring a miniature school girl tie dangling between — it was just dangling.

The clichés may have been endless, but it was all harmless fun. Surprisingly, there was neither flashing nor anything overtly obscene. Although the crowd was rowdy they were not disobedient, and dispersed quickly after the wrestling came to an end and the redneck arena disassembled.

“It’s just fans being fans,” Bowyer told SB Nation. “That’s the neatest thing about what (Talladega) is trying to do again. Everyone knows from way back in the day Talladega has always been the biggest party infield out of any venue we go to. It’s a hoot.”