Gluck: Kurt Busch shows drive to win away from track

Every NASCAR driver wants to win, but it can be argued no one hates losing more than Kurt Busch.

To Busch, losing is like swallowing a piece of chewing gum — it takes an awfully long time to digest. He has tried to improve how he deals with adversity — particularly with the news media on bad days at the track — though it's very much a work in progress.

When things don't go his way, Busch isn't the most pleasant person to be around. NASCAR fans know it. Other drivers know it. His team knows it. He knows it. After all, it was just last year when Busch was suspended for threatening a reporter.

But that's the well-documented Busch from the 200-mph racing environment. How about off the track?

Does he get as competitive about Monopoly or bowling?

To find out, USA TODAY Sports went mini-golfing with Busch, 35, and his girlfriend, Patricia Driscoll.

It was a gorgeous day in New York's Finger Lakes region — the day before Busch moved to within two points of a Chase for the Sprint Cup position at Watkins Glen — and everyone had reason to be in a good mood. Busch cheerfully picked out a green ball — green is bad luck in racing but apparently not in mini-golf — and went unrecognized by other golfers.

He started the round cracking jokes at his own expense ("Are you kidding me?" he said, smiling in mock rage after missing a shot on the first hole) and gave support to Driscoll after she hit a putt on No. 2 ("Good execution, sweetie!").

But when Driscoll aced the fourth hole, tightening the score, Busch's demeanor changed. It was the difference between a friendly tennis match at the local country club and Centre Court at Wimbledon.

On the next hole, he laid on the artificial turf to read the green. This was serious. But it was impossible to read No.7 — a cruel uphill hole requiring just the right touch. Busch and Driscoll said they didn't believe in the five-stroke limit per hole and insisted everyone play it out. The last time they played this course, Busch said, he got a 29 on No.7.

His score seemed headed that way again, so he let another group play through. He plopped down on a rock to watch kids wearing Tony Stewart and Kasey Kahne T-shirts struggle to sink their putts.

Their bad shots reminded him of the time he painfully blew it at the end of a round.

"My buddy is a scratch golfer, and I went toe-to-toe with him until the 17th hole," Busch said. "Then I folded. Sometimes, losing at mini-golf can make you even madder than getting passed on the last lap of a Cup race."

Once play resumed, Busch finished the difficult hole with a 10. Knowing it could have been worse, he moved on without much emotion.

"Plenty of golf to play," he said.

But two holes later, there was plenty of emotion.

On a wicked hole with a dogleg left, Busch hit his ball up onto the plateau and watched gleefully as the other two golfers struggled to do the same. When his next shot trickled back down the hill, though, he threw his club in disgust.

Busch lined himself up at the bottom and tried to knock the ball up again. It trickled back down.

Thwack!

He slammed his club head against a rock and muttered to himself. He tried again. It rolled back to his feet. Busch cursed and tomahawked his club into the ground. The club head snapped and flew off.

Uh oh.

He seemed as surprised as the other two golfers and looked at the metal stick in his hands, then sheepishly tossed the remnants into a nearby bush.

"I was just hard on equipment," he said. "Let's write that down."

A bad word typically costs both Busch and Driscoll $1 whenever her son, Houston, is present. But he wasn't present on this day, which cleared the way for plenty of colorful language.

"Should we keep an unofficial $1 word count for Houston?" Driscoll asked.

"No," Busch said. "Must be present to win."

The burst of temper didn't hurt his game, though; if anything, it intensified his focus. Using Driscoll's club, he started sinking shot after shot.

It only took a few minutes before he was reciting lines from Happy Gilmore ("Shooter! Want to go to the Sizzler and get some grub?") and pointing the ball into the hole like Tiger Woods in the Masters.

Noticing the reporter in the group was falling further behind — Busch was on too much of a roll to keep up — the driver's mood seemed to soften. "You have one more golf club than I do," he said helpfully.

Busch was told a comeback could only happen if he choked like Jean van de Velde.

"Well, I'm known for meltdowns," he said. "I'll give it my best."

Of course, he never let up. Busch won by 10 strokes and was in high spirits by the end of the round. He sat on a bench and tallied the scores as the sun began to set. Then he tossed the scorecard in the trash to destroy evidence of three embarrassingly high scores.

He smiled. Any day with a win was a good day, and this was one of those.

"It's not that I'm a sore loser," he said. "I just need to win more."

Follow Gluck on Twitter @jeff_gluck