Bill France Jr., the man who helped build Daytona International Speedway and built NASCAR into a nationwide billion-dollar conglomerate, died Monday at his Daytona Beach, Fla. home. France had been diagnosed with cancer in 1999 -- he never publicly disclosed any details about his disease -- and had been in poor health for much of the past 10 years. He was 74.

"He had a remarkable career and an even more remarkable life," said his son, Brian France, who replaced him as chairman in 2003. "Words cannot express how much he'll be missed by myself and the rest of our family and by the NASCAR industry overall."

France spent 31 years as NASCAR chairman and earned himself a reputation as a benevolent dictator. He rarely compromised yet always did what was best for NASCAR. France's passing is a huge loss for the sport.

Ever since Kay Yow returned from a 16-game leave of absence for cancer treatment, her North Carolina State women's basketball team has won 12 of their last 14 games. And now the Wolfpack is headed for the Sweet 16 -- after beating Baylor in overtime -- where the fourth-seeded team will play Connecticut on March 24 in Fresno.

This will be the first trip to the NCAA tournament in 16 years for Hall of Fame coach Yow who is battling breast cancer for the third time. First diagnosed with the disease in 1987, Yow had a recurrence during the 2004-05 season. And now this season too.

Yow, still enduring treatment and still working hard on the court, credits her team for their sweet victory.

"I know they want to win for me in that sense," she says. "I really am grateful and appreciate the fact that they do, but I think they're a real team. I think they can play with that kind of spirit every time they go out."

To read previous posts about coach Kay Yow, click here.

Six-year-old Joey told his doctor the other day about my cancer. The topic came up because Joey wore a pink tie-dye t-shirt in anticipation of a gymnastics meet we would attend later that day. The meet was dedicated to breast cancer awareness, and fans were encouraged to pack the place pink. Joey was ready.

Joey told the doctor all about his shirt. And all about me.

"My mom had cancer," he said. "But she survived."

He talked about everything I had to endure, about his surprise that I had to go through so much. He spoke lovingly, his doctor told me. She said he seemed proud.

Joey's doctor told me his eyes were full of emotion when he spoke about me and my cancer. She said he wasn't on the verge of tears, but he was surely passionate about his mom's victory over a disease he just barely comprehends.

And I am proud of Joey. I am proud of his loyalty, his support, his ability to express his emotions, his unwavering enthusiasm for all things pink.

Yes, I survived. Joey did too. And we are both tickled pink.

I'm not a big sports fan. But everyone in my family is, and I live in Gainesville, Florida -- home of the Florida Gators -- so by default, I've come to know a bit about sports. And I tend to get caught up in the orange and blue spirit that lives in this town. It's contagious.

I am thrilled that the Gator football team beat Ohio State Monday night, earning the 2007 National Championship title. But I am even more thrilled that one player -- safety Reggie Nelson -- gets to claim this victory, for himself and for his mother, who passed away on December 21 after a three-year battle with breast cancer.

It must have been a bittersweet win for Nelson, who talked with his mom on the phone prior to each of his games. She was his biggest fan and one of his toughest coaches. She cheered him on and offered critiques all the same.

But there was no phone call Monday night -- before Nelson's biggest game ever. But his mom was surely present to witness the wonder and glory of her son. And Nelson surely made every move on that field in honor of her.

"My mom's my life and my best friend," he said prior to her death. "Everything I do is because of her. She's always in my mind."

Nelson did not speak to the media between the time of his mother's death and his match-up with Ohio State. According to the BCS contract, all players must be made available to the media during media day. But the University of Florida struck an agreement with the BCS to waive the clause for Nelson so he could begin to heal from his loss, without the stress of the Arizona media frenzy.

It's been a difficult time for Nelson who is now speaking out about his mom.

"A person never gets over losing his mother," Nelson said on the field Monday night, as confetti fluttered on the national champs. "I'm a Momma's boy at heart. All I wanted was to make her proud."

Previous posts about Reggie Nelson and his mom are as follows:
Florida Gator Reggie Nelson loses mom to breast cancer
Florida Gator would trade football for family

I was driving down the highway today when I looked to my right and saw out of the corner of my eye a blue pick-up truck. The driver -- a man -- wore a cowboy hat and his passenger -- a woman -- wore a turban and a mask that covered her nose and mouth. It was similar to the yellow paper-like mask I wore during chemotherapy when low blood counts and fevers knocked my body all out of whack. So when I briefly glanced at this woman, I diagnosed her -- with cancer.

I guess my medical radar could be off, my diagnosis could be wrong -- but I suspect not. It was an all-too-familiar sight -- the bald head obviously disguised, the mask warding off germs and infection, the eyes the only visible marking of a face. Yet it was still a startling sight, a sad sight, a sight that never loses its power over me as I travel the highway of life.

I am thankful to still be on the highway -- to not have been tragically run off the road -- and the woman whose path I crossed today may be just fine after her journey with cancer runs its course. But it's such a dismal sight -- the ravages of cancer visibly displayed on the undeserving victims of a harsh disease.

Maybe my approach is all wrong. Perhaps it would be better if my vision today prompted thoughts of a spirited warrior bravely battling a fierce opponent with victory the likely outcome. But instead I saw sickness and sadness. Because this is how I felt -- sick and sad -- when my appearance was marked by a hat and a mask.

But now I am healthy and happy. And I am confident I will one day see my co-survivors in a more hopeful light. There is hope, after all, for each of us diagnosed with this life-threatening disease.

Perhaps after I've been on the road to recovery for a while longer, dismal will turn to dazzle. Perhaps then I will see as much shine in those wearing cancer on their sleeves as I saw today in the blue paint of the truck that passed me on the highway.