Superspeedway racing is a beast of its own—fast, unpredictable, and downright chaotic. For fans, it’s a heart-pounding spectacle—pack racing at 200 mph, bumper to bumper, waiting for that one move that changes everything. But for drivers, it’s a high-risk chess match, where one wrong move can trigger the “Big One” and turn contenders into bystanders in an instant.

The Daytona 500 is designed to be the greatest show in stock car racing—a brutal, cerebral, and thrilling challenge of talent, speed, and stamina. What we saw on Sunday, however, was another indication of why some fans and insiders cringe at what super speedway racing has devolved into. As William Byron took the checkered flag, he was as surprised as anyone, not because he had skillfully out-dueled the field, but simply because he had managed to make it through the melee.

The current situation of superspeedway racing needs an overhaul

Bob Pockrass hit it on the head: “William Byron says he really didn’t know how to react when he won the Daytona 500 … because he was seventh at the beginning of the last lap and found himself in victory lane after the leaders wrecked.” That one sentence sums up the biggest problem plaguing NASCAR’s most legendary race—winning doesn’t necessarily come down to being the best driver. It often comes down to simply being the last guy standing.

Byron‘s crew chief, Rudy Fugle, laughed about the manner in which his driver emerged victorious. Not disrespectful, but rather because their team was never in control of the race. “They really weren’t, you know, the dominant car. Obviously, they weren’t somebody who had controlled the race,” Pockrass said. Byron was simply in the right spot at the right moment when the inevitable ‘Big One’ developed before him. That’s the infuriating truth of contemporary superspeedway racing—being quick and competent does not always equal victory.

Well for context let us look at Daytona 500 winners in recent years. Back in the 90s, drivers like Dale Jarret, Dale Jr., and Jeff Gordon would snag multiple wins. In the modern era of spec cars and fuel-saving speedway racing, the crown jewel race has been won by the likes of Ricky Stenhouse Jr., Austin Cindric, and Michael McDowell. Neither of them has been able to convert that Daytona 500 win in a strong season and Byron’s back-to-back wins also show that you need not be a talented speedway racer to snag the most coveted trophy there is to win in NASCAR. Even three-time winner Denny Hamlin brushed off the wreck that ended his day, citing “Everyone’s trying to go for.”

Drivers no longer feel they are in control of their own destiny at Daytona and Talladega. The sport has never been one of predictability, but these days it’s more like a lottery than a genuine test of racing prowess. Byron’s victory will be questioned. Some will say that he was clever and put himself in the right place, but others will brush it off as another ‘Mickey Mouse’ victory—a description of wins that are perceived to be undeserved because of crash-filled conclusions. This is the Daytona paradox: it’s the largest race of the year, but it tends to crown winners who don’t quite feel like they deserve it.

Until NASCAR can find a way to balance excitement with legitimacy, this controversy will only continue to escalate.

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Ryan Preece’s Daytona Horror Crash: A Close Call That Hits Too Close to Home

Ryan Preece has seen this nightmare before—flipping violently, slamming into the ground, and waiting to see if he’d walk away. With just five laps to go in the 2025 Daytona 500, chaos erupted when Christopher Bell was turned, sending Preece’s No. 60 Ford straight into the air. The car performed an eerie ‘wheelie’ on top of Erik Jones’ Toyota before rolling violently on the track and slamming back onto its wheels. From the broadcast booth, the reaction was pure disbelief: “I’ve never seen a car do that.”

For Preece, it was horrifyingly familiar. Just two years ago, at the very same track, he endured a brutal crash that saw his car flip nearly a dozen times. That wreck was so severe that NASCAR paved the infield to prevent a repeat. Yet here he was again, caught in another terrifying airborne wreck. Preece’s voice carried both relief and frustration as he reflected on yet another narrow escape: “Yeah, I don’t know if it’s the diffuser or what that makes these cars like a sheet of plywood when you walk out on a windy day. But when the car took off like that, it got real quiet. All I thought about was my daughter.”

The crash ended his RFK Racing debut with a disheartening 32nd-place finish. But the real concern isn’t just one ruined race—it’s that NASCAR is playing with fire. Preece himself put it bluntly: “We’re getting really close to somebody not being able to walk away.”

For now, Preece will try to shake off the fear and move forward. But after surviving two of Daytona’s scariest crashes in recent history, how many more can he endure?