The Mini Dad Chronicles: The many forms of the mini dad By Mike Keefe

The world of mini racing is made up of an eclectic bunch but all with the same goal in mind: see their kid whup butt on the track. As an experienced mini dad, myself, I've had the perfect opportunity to study this dangerous sub-species from within its own ranks. And no matter, from local dust bowl weekend races to Loretta Lynn's qualifiers, the crowd composition is the same.

For the uninitiated, here are the primary actors in the mini racing saga. Sure, a few are mere detached observers with only genuine interest in their kid's fun and well-being, but most are impassioned primary players, living vicariously through their children. Not that that's a bad thing.

Happy Dad
This is the dad who hauls his child and an XR50 to the track in his Chevy Lumina and enters him or her in the 50 senior class. After the kid washes off the roost from the high-priced, high-revving bikes that dominate the class, it is off to McDonalds for a happy meal. (Happy dad does not ride but did see a supercross on ESPN once.)

Redneck Dad
He usually comes to the track in a 1977 GMC pick-up displaying a bumper sticker showing a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and the text "Not till they pry it from my cold, dead hands!" Standing around after the race he can be heard saying "them KTMs and Cobras must be cheatin' cuz ain't no way they can beat Billy Jo Jim Bob on his Minitrail 50." He usually can be heard discussing the long line of racers in his (straight) family tree. Redneck Dad doesn't race either, but he has gone through his fair share of quads.

Poser Dad
This guy shows up with a motor home that cost more than your house with big fox stickers plastered on the sides and rear of it. He stands trackside in his No Fear Jeremy McGrath jersey and his Fox cap telling stories of his child's future dominance at the world minis. Poser dad rode on the back of a Ninja once but still isn't shy about telling you all the things your kid is doing wrong.

Nazi Dad
This is the second most dangerous of the group and is easily the most visible. To spot a Nazi Dad in the crowd, just look for the guy holding a stop watch and pit board shouting, "Go faster! Make the pass you ungrateful little brat!" Most often, the Nazi Dad's angst can be traced to his nagging impotency that he has to put off getting checked out because he spent so much dough on his kid's bike. His kid frequently wins, but half the time it's due to Nazi Dad's stealth sabotage of his competitor's bikes. Nazi Dad used to ride, but quit the day his kid got off the training wheels. (Hey, why risk your neck when your kid can do it for you?)

Mini Mom
By far the scariest of the bunch. Do not feed or attempt to pet this one. The Mini Mom can be mated with any of the above, except Happy Dad. (He is divorced and not quite out of the closet.) The Mini Mom is most compatible with Nazi Dad, although study shows that it's his impotency that brings out her aggressive nature. Often, Mini Mom works nights at Wal-Mart so the family can afford her child's racing career, and, of course, the kid is treated like a star. Mini Mom understands that there actually are three motos for every class: moto one, moto two and The Protest. She's a master at eking out an extra place or two for her kid after all the results are tallied. Unfortunately for the track officials, her negotiating tactics aren't necessarily tactful. She's often seen tackling the ankles of other parents, flipping off the results judge and prying the first-place trophy out of the actual winner's hands all at the same time. Think of the rush for Tickle Me Elmos or Cabbage Patch Dolls several years back, except at the races the Mini Mom often has little equally rabid competition and makes quick work of the rest of us.

Moto Dad
This dad stands trackside in his riding gear waiting for his own class to go to staging. Nevertheless, he cheers his kid on no matter what position he or she holds. He puts little pressure on his child and understands for long-term participation in the sport enjoyment must come before early results. He is just sharing the sport he loves with his offspring. Of course, Moto Dad can't take all of the credit; nine times out of 10 he owes his state of moto contentment to a dedicated significant other who handles all the stressful between moto chores so the Moto Dad can focus on his own race. (Probably races the 250 C class but at least he tries.)

Dejected Dad
This is the saddest of the bunch. These are the dads who once raced themselves but can't stand the hassle of making multiple practices, chasing their kid around the track, arranging for babysitting, gearing up, riding to their line, etc. (midwestmotocross.com Editor James Holter, burned by the stress of racing with his five-year old last year, falls into this group.) Often seen weeping along the fence during the 25+ and 30+ motos or staring enviously at Moto Dad (or longingly at Mini Mom).