Derrell Edwards grew up without any inkling that this world existed.
More than 100,000 people cramming into open-air stands to watch cars careen around an oval at death-defying speeds? A sport in which one well-timed spin-out could make the difference between a hopeless afternoon and a career-defining champagne celebration?
Edwards didn’t know the difference between a piston and a lug nut, much less the intricate teamwork required of a NASCAR pit crew or the awesome spectacle of the Daytona 500.
Like many of the kids in his East Baltimore neighborhood, he had only one vision of athletic greatness and that was becoming the next Sam Cassell or Carmelo Anthony. He was a...