Two days removed from arguably the biggest heartbreak of his career, Denny Hamlin —still the best active NASCAR driver to never win a title — seems, somehow, at peace.
At Phoenix Raceway on Sunday, Hamlin was 40 seconds away from finally banishing that cursed “never won a championship” label. He was two and a half seconds ahead of the field, the title in his grasp, when fate – in the form of William Byron’s blown tire – intervened. The caution came out. The race went into overtime. The universe, once again, decided Denny Hamlin wasn’t allowed to have nice things.
The field pitted. Many teams rolled the dice on two tires. Hamlin’s crew chief, Chris Gabehart, stuck with four. It was a decision that had worked four times earlier in the day. The fifth time, however, was not the charm. Hamlin restarted sixth, and that was that.
Ryan Blaney won the race. Kyle Larson won the championship. Hamlin, once again, watched from the outside looking in.
By Tuesday, the wreckage of disappointment had settled. Hamlin reappeared in Scottsdale for the final day of NASCAR’s awards week, and he looked—if not happy—then at least whole. He smiled, shook hands, even joked a bit. No tantrums, no melodrama, no “what-if” spiral.
“Not much different,” Hamlin said when asked what he could’ve done otherwise. “There’s not a whole lot of second-guessing. Certainly from my standpoint, there’s just not much else you can do about it. I did exactly what the format asked me to do. It still wasn’t right.”
That “format” he’s referring to is NASCAR’s playoff system, a reality-TV-style elimination gauntlet that can turn a season of excellence into heartbreak with one stray yellow flag. Hamlin played the game by its rules and still lost. It’s the kind of cruelty that only motorsport seems capable of.
When asked how the post-race debrief went between himself, crew chief Chris Gabehart, and team owner Joe Gibbs, Hamlin didn’t point fingers. “The takeaways from JGR need to be that they did a really good job hiring me, a really fast car, and giving me all the tools I needed to succeed,” he said. “I’ve been there in other years where I just wasn’t fast enough or good enough. This is just a little different.”
Different is one word for it. Unfair might be another.
The irony wasn’t lost on Hamlin that just two days before his heartbreak, young Corey Heim had done exactly what Hamlin had hoped to do. In the Truck Series championship race, Heim went full kamikaze, slicing through the pack seven-wide on the final restart to grab the win and the title.
Asked about that parallel, Hamlin shrugged. “Obviously, competition is one of the big factors,” he said. “The cars versus the trucks makes it a little different. There were so many cars that stayed out—it definitely changed the game. Just circumstances, talent level, and cars was the only thing that was different. But obviously, the result was a ton different.”
That’s Hamlin in a nutshell: clinical, analytical, and perpetually unlucky. The man could land a 747 on a dime and still find the one screw loose in the landing gear.
And then there was the family side of it. His daughters had been his biggest cheerleaders going into the race chanting his name. But after the race, they were heartbroken too and needed some consoling from dad.
“Yeah, I mean, just trying to teach them life lessons that life’s not fair,” he said softly. “Things don’t always happen the way they’re supposed to. Especially for the older one, just trying to justify the outcome was difficult. Hours later, it still was. More trying to calm her down.”
That’s the thing about Hamlin now — the man’s perspective has evolved. Years ago, this loss might’ve been volcanic. Today, it’s reflective.
And in one of the most human moments of the week, Hamlin did something few could: he showed up at Kyle Larson’s championship party.
“Just to pay my respects,” he said. “I would hope he would’ve done that for me. He’s been a great friend of mine. There’s a difference between ‘deserving’ and ‘should have been.’ No one should ever question his deservingness of being a champion. Regardless of my feelings, it was important to show support.”
So there he was, Denny Hamlin, at the champion’s celebration, smiling through the kind of pain that only racing can inflict.
He didn’t rage. He didn’t sulk. He just accepted it. Because maybe, after all these years, Hamlin has realized that sometimes the story isn’t about how many championships you win — it’s about how you handle the ones you lose.
And on that front, Denny Hamlin might just be the best there’s ever been.
Greg was a writer for DriveTribe supporting Amazon's The Grand Tour and has been published in major publications across the country including the Los Angeles Times, the Cleveland Plain Dealer and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. He was also a contributor to Chicken Soup for the NASCAR Soul, published in 2010, and the Christmas edition in 2016. He wrote as the NASCAR, Formula 1, Auto Reviews and National Veterans Affairs Examiner for Examiner.com and has appeared on Fox News. He holds a BS degree in communications, and a Masters degree in psychology. He is currently the weekend Motorsports Editor for Autoweek and a regular contributor to Forbes.
- Connor Zilisch Learns The Hard Way That Racing Isn’t Always Fair—But It’s Always Honest - November 4, 2025
- Photos: NASCAR Awards in Phoenix Tuesday Nov. 4, 2025 - November 4, 2025
- Denny Hamlin Finds Grace In The Wreckage Of Another Lost Championship - November 4, 2025