Drag racing has always been powered by emotion. Passion built this sport, sustained it, and in many ways protected it when no one else cared. But passion, unchecked, has also been responsible for some of the most damaging cycles in our history. Time and again, when faced with moments of change or conflict, we don’t slow down – we dig in, pick sides, and start fighting shadows. That’s why Mark Twain’s line feels so painfully appropriate right now: history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes. Drag racing doesn’t just rhyme – it sometimes seems trapped in the same verse.
We love to talk about tradition, and rightly so. Few motorsports can match drag racing’s lineage, its multi-generational families, or the way tracks feel like home rather than venues. But tradition without direction eventually becomes inertia. As much as I love this sport, I don’t believe we’re anywhere near the ceiling of what drag racing could be. In fact, I’d argue we’re still arguing about the floor while the ceiling remains untouched.
Every few years, drag racing convinces itself that a single move – a transaction, a purchase, a realignment of power – is going to fundamentally change everything. That this time is different. That this moment will finally reshape the landscape. Sometimes disruption is healthy. Sometimes it’s necessary. But more often than not, what we’re witnessing isn’t transformation – it’s turbulence. Motion without momentum. Noise without progress.
We’ve seen organizations change hands repeatedly, rebrand, relaunch, and reposition themselves as the future of the sport. We’ve also seen one institution endure for three-quarters of a century, weathering cultural shifts, economic downturns, internal criticism, and relentless external pressure. That contrast isn’t an insult or a compliment – it’s a reality check. Stability matters. Scale matters. Trust is built over decades and can be undone in weeks. And despite the volume of recent rhetoric, no one is pushing a 75-year institution to the brink. That idea might be emotionally satisfying to some, but it’s not grounded in reality.
What’s more concerning than any individual decision is the framing around it. Drag racing fans are loyal, yes – but they are not children. Racers aren’t either. They understand competition. They understand business. They understand that ownership and sanctioning are not abstract concepts, and that long-standing relationships don’t exist in a vacuum. When narratives ask people to pretend those realities don’t matter, or to believe that history can simply be hand-waved away, it doesn’t unify the sport – it fractures it further.
This is where drag racing consistently hurts itself. Not through competition, but through conflict dressed up as righteousness. Not through change, but through spin. Not through ambition, but through ego. The sport has paid a steep price for decades of fragmentation, and yet we continue to act as if this round of division will somehow be different from the last dozen.
Competition is healthy. It always has been. Rivalries, when handled correctly, elevate everyone involved. But competition without honesty is corrosive. It erodes trust among racers, fans, and tracks – the very people who keep the lights on. When press releases become proxies for confrontation and statements are crafted more to score points than to provide clarity, the entire ecosystem feels the strain.
What gets lost in moments like this is the bigger conversation drag racing should be having with itself. Not about who owns what, or who moved where, or who said what first – but about where we’re actually going. How do we grow beyond the same insular audience? How do we tell better stories? How do we create stars that resonate beyond the pits? How do we provide consistency for racers who are investing hundreds of thousands of dollars (if not millions) into their programs? How do we protect tracks not just as assets, but as cultural landmarks?
Drag racing doesn’t need to be rescued. It needs to be matured. It needs leaders who understand that short-term leverage can come at a long-term cost, and that winning a moment is not the same as building a future. It needs fewer public standoffs and more quiet alignment around shared goals. It needs less tribalism and more accountability.
History may not repeat itself, but it keeps rhyming because we keep reaching for the same answers. If this sport is ever going to break that cycle, it will require something drag racing has historically struggled with: restraint. Perspective. And the willingness to admit that not every battle is worth fighting, and not every decision needs to be framed as a referendum on the soul of the sport.
Drag racing is stronger than any single organization, any single facility, or any single moment of controversy. But it is not immune to self-inflicted damage. If we truly care about where this sport is headed – not just next season, but a generation from now – then clarity, honesty, and long-term thinking have to outweigh theatrics and scorekeeping.
The sport deserves that level of seriousness. The racers deserve that level of respect. And the fans, who have stuck with drag racing through every rhyme of its history, deserve to see us finally write a new verse.
This story was originally published on December 16, 2025.
The post OP-ED: History Doesn’t Repeat Itself – But Drag Racing Keeps Rhyming first appeared on Drag Illustrated.
