On Tuesday, Kyle Busch sent NASCAR CEO Steve O'Donnell a text. He wanted to know what O'Donnell thought about an over-40 rule that would let him compete in Truck Series races next year. The rule, which currently restricts full-time Cup drivers from also running full-time in the Trucks, exists in part because Kyle Busch made it necessary — he dominated the series so thoroughly that NASCAR had to limit his presence to protect competitive balance.
O'Donnell took the text back to his team. "I said, you know, we put that rule in place because you were winning so much," he said Friday. "But when we looked about it and had a meeting Wednesday internally, we thought, damn, that's actually good. We need Kyle in the Truck Series."
The reason was twofold. Kyle could help the series. And O'Donnell believed he had a dream of one day racing against his son in a national series event.
That meeting was Wednesday. On Wednesday, O'Donnell and others were also in the room for Hall of Fame voting — Kyle Busch a certainty, first ballot — and O'Donnell was thinking about what the final chapter would look like. Kyle's kids maybe one day racing. The chance to sit in that room and celebrate him and hear him speak.
On Thursday morning, O'Donnell got a phone call at 9 a.m. "A call you don't expect," he said Friday, "that things weren't great." He spent the rest of the day with the people he thought he should be with.
On Friday, O'Donnell sat before the assembled press at Charlotte Motor Speedway. Thirty-one years in the sport. Twenty-five of them with Kyle Busch in it.
What followed was not a prepared statement. It was a man in grief talking about someone he actually knew.
He talked about Daniel Suarez — coming over from Mexico, learning English, struggling at the national series level, receiving a call every week from Kyle Busch. Never publicized. Just: how do I make you better? He talked about the Bundle of Joy foundation, started with Samantha because Kyle knew how hard it was to build a family and wanted to spread that message. He talked about the Truck Series team Kyle built — the wins matter, but so do the people now going up and down pit road on Sunday, some of them behind the wheel, who came through that program. Kyle gave people a chance.
One question from the room asked whether the sport would've been better served without Kyle's fiery edge — the suspensions, the fines, the wall-slamming theater. O'Donnell's answer was direct. "This sport is a badass sport. Kyle Busch to me is an American badass. Behind the wheel, who you want to be." And then: "We certainly had our battles, right? But I'd give a lot of money to have a few more battles going forward."
You could point out that grief makes everyone eloquent. That's true. But what O'Donnell said on Friday wasn't the kind of thing you prepare. He knew the Suarez calls. He knew the text from Tuesday. He knew what came out of the Wednesday meeting and what it meant that Kyle had a dream about racing his son. That's not a eulogy drafted by a communications team. That's a person who paid attention.
When someone asked about whether the Coca-Cola 600 should still run, O'Donnell didn't hesitate. "Kyle Busch would probably be pretty pissed off if we didn't race. So we're going to honor his memory and make sure people know what he was all about."
That's the right answer. It also happens to be the correct instinct for a sport that has sometimes struggled to find leaders who could speak plainly about what racing actually means to the people who love it.
Kyle Busch won at Dover last week. He sent a text on Tuesday. He was gone by Thursday morning.
O'Donnell closed Friday with this: "For me personally, the family reunions week to week are just not going to be the same without him. But we're going to do our damn best to continue his legacy and support his family."
The Coca-Cola 600 runs Sunday at Charlotte Motor Speedway.