At most NASCAR tracks, when you look into the grandstands, you’ll see a strategically chaotic mess of colors. It’s not by accident. Those seats are painted in a hodgepodge of reds, blues, greens, and yellows, so that even when the place is half-empty, your brain struggles to tell the difference. It’s a clever little illusion—one designed to make it look like the place is packed.
Homestead-Miami Speedway doesn’t play those games. Every seat is bright, unapologetic yellow. No tricks. No illusions. If the crowd is sparse, the track doesn’t try to hide it. Which is exactly why, this past Sunday, the grandstands looked less like a buzzing championship venue and more like an abandoned sunflower field. And that, my friends, is a problem.
Let’s be clear—Homestead-Miami isn’t just another track. It’s a neon-drenched, pastel-painted, Latin-flavored spectacle dropped into the heart of South Florida. Unlike most NASCAR stops where you can expect the usual diet of country music, Coors Light, and a questionable selection of hot dogs, Homestead is different.
Here, the air hums with salsa beats. The infield smells of roasted pork and empanadas. The grandstands are a melting pot of cultures—Cuban, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Colombian, Haitian—all blending together in a way that simply doesn’t happen at Kansas Speedway. At Homestead, South Beach vibes meet stock car thunder, and it works.
And yet, despite all of this, NASCAR in its infinite wisdom has reduced Homestead to a forgettable early-season race—just another stop in a long, grinding season.
For years, Homestead was the final battleground, the place where champions were crowned. The atmosphere was electric. The grandstands were full. The racing was spectacular. It was a glorious finale—a high-stakes, high-energy spectacle in a setting that actually looked like a place worthy of hosting a championship.
Then, NASCAR moved the title fight to Phoenix.
Phoenix is fine. It’s a good track. But it’s not South Beach. It’s not electric neon glowing in the humid night air. It’s not salsa dancers on the front stretch during pre-race. It’s not Homestead.
And if NASCAR isn’t careful, that neon pastel glow might flicker out for good. Because here’s the thing—tracks don’t survive on history and good vibes alone. They survive on ticket sales, on TV ratings, on the kind of energy that makes people want to show up, spend money, and come back next year.
Right now, Homestead is teetering on the edge. It’s not a Playoff race. It’s not a championship race. It’s just… there. Floating in the early-season wasteland where sports fans are distracted by March Madness brackets and baseball’s return. Those empty yellow seats aren’t a quirk; they’re a warning sign.
Phoenix has two dates on the calendar. Homestead has one. And if that one date keeps looking like a sunflower farm in March, it won’t take much for NASCAR to start whispering about “market demand” and “realignment.” And we all know how that story ends. Just ask Rockingham. Or North Wilkesboro—well, before it was resurrected by an act of divine intervention.
NASCAR needs to stop pretending Homestead will be fine just because it’s in Florida. If they don’t move it back where it belongs—if they don’t give it the respect it deserves—then one day, maybe soon, Homestead- Miami might go the way of the dinosaurs. And the only thing left will be a few faded yellow seats, the ghosts of championship races past and Ralph Sanchez, who built the track, rolling over in his grave.
Fix this, NASCAR. Before it’s too late.
Greg is the author of "The Nuts and Bolts of NASCAR: The Definitive Viewers' Guide to Big-Time Stock Car Auto Racing" 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, a Masters degree in psychology and is currently a PhD candidate majoring in psychology. He is currently the weekend Motorsports Editor for Autoweek.