On Sunday at World Wide Technology Raceway, another chapter was added to the saga of Kyle Larson and Ryan Blaney. Fighting for fifth place late in Stage 2, Blaney’s No. 12 Ford held the high line while Larson’s No. 5 Chevy dove low. Only problem? Larson didn’t stay low. The Hendrick car drifted up into Blaney, sending him into a slow-motion pirouette through Turn 4.
Blaney gathered it up, avoided the wall, and rejoined in 11th once the caution flew. Larson, who’d already led 52 laps, carried on as though he’d merely tapped a shopping cart in a Walmart parking lot. But the point was made: in big moments, these two keep finding each other. And it isn’t the first time. Their scrapbook is stuffed with bent fenders, bruised egos, and playoff heartbreaks.
Back in 2018 at Kansas, a playoff race with just 20 laps to go, Blaney tried an aggressive side-draft on Larson down the frontstretch. It went sideways—literally—bouncing him into the wall and ending his day. Larson patched his car up and salvaged a finish. Blaney didn’t sugarcoat it afterward: “I definitely take the blame on that one. I was just trying too hard.” Even then, the seeds of this rivalry were planted.
Fast forward to Homestead in 2023. Larson came storming onto pit road behind Blaney, only for Blaney to slow earlier than expected. Larson punted him square in the rear before smashing into the water barrels in a crash straight out of Looney Tunes. Larson shrugged later: “I didn’t expect him to slow down so early.” Translation: I forgot physics still applied.
Then came Phoenix, the Championship 4, same year. This time, no wreck—just rage. Blaney had enough of Larson’s blocking and exploded on the radio: “Fing piece of st, air-blocking motherf**er. He’s getting sent next time.” Roger Penske, ever the picture of restraint, calmly replied: “Keep cool. You’re doing great.” Which is like telling a bull that’s just seen red to go meditate.
And Charlotte in 2025? Shared misery. Daniel Suárez spun, Blaney pancaked the wall, and Larson—already limping—was clipped in the mess. Both cars were junked. This time it wasn’t rivalry, just carnage by association.
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Gateway brought it all back around. Blaney still finished fourth, Larson limped home 12th. Larson climbed out, walked over, and admitted fault. There were no fists, no shouting—just smiles, maybe a nervous one from Larson.
“I just said, I messed up, I misjudged it,” Larson said after they had parted. “Obviously, I’m not trying to wreck anybody on purpose, especially at the midway point of a race. Yeah, just misjudged kind of where my right front was and the timing of all that.”
“I mean, it was frustrating, but it didn’t warrant me to get into him or anything like that.”
Blaney, still shaking his head, wanted to know what he’d done to deserve it.
“He just said he made a mistake,” Blaney said. “Yeah, that’s fine. Make mistakes. But like at the end of day, I still got turned. Came from all the way on the bottom of the racetrack and hit me. Like I know he most likely didn’t mean to do it, but it happened anyway.”
And while Larson may think this was the closing chapter of the book, Blaney might not be ready to call Gateway the final chapter.
And then came the smile.
“That’s just one I gotta remember,” Blaney said.
Larson sounded like a diplomat trying to negotiate a peace treaty.
“I think we’re both professionals,” Larson said. “I’m sure he’s mad in the moment, probably said a lot of things on the radio and whatnot, I would have been upset as well. But I hope he knows it was an accident, although it might not look like an accident. I wasn’t meaning to get into him. If he wants to retaliate, I understand, but I don’t think it would get to that point.”
So when Larson tipped Blaney into a spin at Gateway, it wasn’t shocking—it was déjà vu. Call it respect, bad timing, or fate, but it keeps happening. And with Bristol looming as a cut-off race, only a fool would bet against another run-in. Because these aren’t just racing incidents—they’re chapters in a bromance-tinged rivalry where aggression, misfortune, and raw emotion keep colliding. NASCAR has its heavyweight grudges, but somehow, Larson vs. Blaney has become the rivalry nobody expected—and everybody’s watching.
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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