There is a particular cruelty reserved for the Daytona 500. It doesn’t just break your car. It waits until you can almost taste the champagne, then swaps the bottle for a paper cup of regret.
While his 23XI Racing teammate was celebrating the biggest win of his career a few yards away Sunday night, Bubba Wallace stood in that strange emotional no-man’s-land that only Daytona can create. Close enough to hear the cheers. Close enough to smell the burnout smoke. Not close enough to touch the trophy.
For nine attempts now, Wallace has wrestled with this place. And this time, it genuinely looked like he had it handled.
He avoided the early carnage that treated half the field like loose shopping carts in a hurricane. He kept the nose clean. He led 40 laps—the most of anyone all afternoon. When the final restart came, he was fifth. That’s not hopeful. That’s dangerous. That’s exactly where you want to be when 200 mph chess turns into a fistfight.
Everything was aligned. The car had speed. The strategy made sense. The chaos had been dodged.
And then, as Daytona so often does, it reached out and flicked the switch.
When the smoke cleared, Wallace was credited with 10th. Not terrible. Not triumphant. Just another line in the box score that doesn’t begin to explain how close it felt.
He didn’t stomp. He didn’t sulk. He didn’t pretend it was someone else’s fault.
“Man, I don’t know what to say. First of all, hats off to the 45 group. I don’t want my emotions to take away from the monumental day they just accomplished. Happy birthday, MJ. That’s a massive birthday present. I just noticed that Chumba Casino was on his car so that’s two crown jewel wins for them, so that’s pretty cool.
I thought this was our week, the best 500 I’ve ever had, and come up short, sucks. But couldn’t be more proud of the team. Pumped for Xfinity to jump on board the way they did and debut their first primary race in the 500. Led a lot of laps, lap leader, I believe. It was a good day for us, but damn. Try again next year. “
That’s the thing about Daytona. You can do everything right. You can lead the most laps. You can survive the wrecks. You can put yourself exactly where you need to be when it matters.
And still, you can walk away with a handshake instead of a Harley J. Earl trophy.
Wallace didn’t lose the Daytona 500 because he was reckless. He lost it because this race doesn’t reward logic. It rewards timing, luck, and a willingness to accept that sometimes the final restart simply doesn’t break your way.
Nine tries down. One more lesson learned. Daytona will see him again. It always does.
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.
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