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The Daytona 500 is NASCAR's Super Bowl, so why doesn't it always equal greatness?

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The Daytona 500 is NASCAR's Super Bowl, so why doesn't it always equal greatness?

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DAYTONA BEACH, Fla. — NASCAR Hall of Famer Jeff Gordon won the Daytona 500 twice in his first seven seasons, later adding another victory six years later, in 2005. Surely, he figured, there would be more to come.

Then Gordon never won NASCAR’s biggest race again.

“You get into this frustration of, ‘Man, what am I doing differently?’” Gordon said.

The answer, oddly enough, was nothing.

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Such is the nature of this crown jewel NASCAR race, which represents a unique contrast in the realm of top sporting events: It is NASCAR’s Super Bowl in so many ways, but also remains one of the least reliable indicators of greatness.

Some of NASCAR’s most legendary names, like Tony Stewart, Rusty Wallace and Mark Martin, never won this race. Meanwhile, five of the last seven Daytona 500 victors have gone winless in that season’s remaining 35 events.

“You would assume in the biggest race of the year, the best teams and drivers would always win,” said Joey Logano, the 2015 Daytona 500 winner. “But it’s not like that.”

Logano brought the fastest car to this year’s 500, qualifying on the pole position there for the first time in his career. But the style of racing at NASCAR’s so-called “superspeedways” like Daytona means there are no guarantees Logano will have a good performance in the race, when well over three-quarters of the field has a legitimate chance to win. (The race, originally scheduled for Sunday, has been postponed to Monday at 4 p.m. ET due to rain.)

The reason is rooted in safety concerns. If NASCAR Cup Series cars were allowed to travel around Daytona’s high-banked, 2.5-mile course without restrictions, they could top 200 mph and put both competitors and fans at increased risk.

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By requiring each car to have a “tapered spacer” — a hole-filled aluminum block that reduces the airflow to the engines — NASCAR limits speeds to try and keep cars from getting airborne and flying into (or through) the fences that separate the fans from the racetrack.

But there’s a side effect. The reduced horsepower means cars typically travel in giant packs, and drivers must rely on help from other competitors to draft around the track. Otherwise, they risk falling helplessly behind, unable to catch up as the field races off into the distance.

That makes the odds rise dramatically on two fronts: One, unheralded underdogs can hang with the elite long enough to pull off a shocking win; and two, even a slight bobble or mistake by one driver in the pack can trigger a large, multi-car crash known as “The Big One.”

“You’re not going to be fully in control of your destiny, and I’ve just accepted that,” said defending NASCAR champion Ryan Blaney, who has never won the Daytona 500 despite being one of the best superspeedway racers. “I’m going to do my best to try and stick around this thing, and if I get wiped out in something that’s not my fault, it’s like, ‘What can you do?’”

When Christopher Bell won Thursday night’s Daytona 500 qualifying race, he acknowledged a belief this style of racing was “100 percent luck.”

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In reality, that’s an exaggeration. While luck undoubtedly plays a factor at Daytona, it’s not everything.

“I used to think this race was more luck than skill, but as I’ve studied more, the same guys are always up front,” said Kyle Larson, who is known as one of the most talented American drivers of his generation. “Those guys are not luckier than everybody else; they’re really talented when it comes to this style and they’ve got a good sense of how things work and where to be at the right time.”


Austin Cindric won the Daytona 500 in 2022, his only Cup Series win in 79 races. “The drivers who win this are the ones who remain calm and make good decisions,” fellow driver Tyler Reddick says. (Chris Graythen / Getty Images)

Becoming a top superspeedway racer requires a different skill set than typical tracks, which are more about drivers getting their car to handle better (and thus go faster) than the competition.

At Daytona, the best drivers have both excellent racecraft — knowing when to risk a move and when to stay put — and an innate sense of avoiding danger. Combined with those things, they also need savvy strategy calls from their teams, quick pit stops from their crews and, of course, good fortune.

“The smart ones can navigate through (the danger) or know, ‘I need to get out of this’ — or they’re already ahead of it to begin with,” said Tyler Reddick, who has crashed in all five of his Daytona 500 starts but won his Thursday qualifying race. “The drivers who win this are the ones who remain calm and make good decisions with the race approaching the end.”

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Though the late Dale Earnhardt Sr. was mythically said to be able to “see the air,” the reality of modern-day drivers is they must see the video. Along with their spotters, who narrate and even dictate which moves should be made from positions high above the track, drivers pore over film of previous races to understand which moves work, which ones backfire and which ones cause major crashes.

Some teams track analytics, like the best running positions in the pack that correlate to success. But even then, there are still so many elements out of their control.

Brad Keselowski, for example, has led the most laps in each of the last two Daytona 500s — part of 177 career laps led in this race — but has never won it. Now 40 and running out of time to claim a Daytona 500 crown, Keselowski said he’d trade leading those laps in exchange for leading the last one.

“You go to the Daytona 500, and you’ve done all this preparation work … and more often than not, the result feels unearned either way,” he said. “Like many things in life, you just have to recognize it’s not always fair and accept it and move on. But it’s difficult to reconcile, for sure.”

Keselowski, Kyle Busch and Martin Truex Jr. are among the current Cup Series champion drivers nearing the end of their careers without a Daytona 500 victory. Busch has said he badly wants to win the 500 more than any other remaining accomplishment, but also acknowledged “it’s just one race.”

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Drivers throughout the NASCAR garage continue to wrestle with that dichotomy; as Gordon said, “somebody is going to win this race, and there’s no other win like it.”

On the other hand, as Logano noted, a Daytona 500 trophy — or lack thereof — doesn’t define a driver’s career.

“It’s an unbelievable stat to have on your resume,” Logano said. “That part is fantastic. But if you had to decide between winning 15 Cup races over one Daytona 500, you’d probably rather win 15 Cup races.”

go-deeper

GO DEEPER

Daytona 500 lineup: Ranking all 40 drivers on their chances to win

(Top illustration: John Bradford / The Athletic; photos: Jared C. Tilton, Jonathan Ferrey, Jared C. Tilton / Getty Images)

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I Think This Poem Is Kind of Into You

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I Think This Poem Is Kind of Into You

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A famous poet once observed that it is difficult to get the news from poems. The weather is a different story. April showers, summer sunshine and — maybe especially — the chill of winter provide an endless supply of moods and metaphors. Poets like to practice a double meteorology, looking out at the water and up at the sky for evidence of interior conditions of feeling.

The inner and outer forecasts don’t always match up. This short poem by Louise Glück starts out cold and stays that way for most of its 11 lines.

And then it bursts into flame.

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“Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” comes from Glück’s debut collection, “Firstborn,” which was published in 1968. She wrote the poems in it between the ages of 18 and 23, but they bear many of the hallmarks of her mature style, including an approach to personal matters — sex, love, illness, family life — that is at once uncompromising and elusive. She doesn’t flinch. She also doesn’t explain.

Here, for example, Glück assembles fragments of experience that imply — but also obscure — a larger narrative. It’s almost as if a short story, or even a novel, had been smashed like a glass Christmas ornament, leaving the reader to infer the sphere from the shards.

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We know there was a couple with a flat tire, and that a year later at least one of them still has feelings for the other. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re still together, or where they were going with those Christmas presents.

To some extent, those questions can be addressed with the help of biographical clues. The version of “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” that appeared in The Atlantic in 1967 was dedicated to Charles Hertz, a Columbia University graduate student who was Glück’s first husband. They divorced a few years later. Glück, who died in 2023, was never shy about putting her life into her work.

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Louise Glück in 1975.

Gerard Malanga

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But the poem we are reading now is not just the record of a passion that has long since cooled. More than 50 years after “Firstborn,” on the occasion of receiving the Nobel Prize for literature, Glück celebrated the “intimate, seductive, often furtive or clandestine” relations between poets and their readers. Recalling her childhood discovery of William Blake and Emily Dickinson, she declared her lifelong ardor for “poems to which the listener or reader makes an essential contribution, as recipient of a confidence or an outcry, sometimes as co-conspirator.”

That’s the kind of poem she wrote.

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“Confidence” can have two meanings, both of which apply to “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson.” Reading it, you are privy to a secret, something meant for your ears only. You are also in the presence of an assertive, self-possessed voice.

Where there is power, there’s also risk. To give voice to desire — to whisper or cry “I want you” — is to issue a challenge and admit vulnerability. It’s a declaration of conquest and a promise of surrender.

What happens next? That’s up to you.

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Can You Identify Where the Winter Scenes in These Novels Took Place?

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Can You Identify Where the Winter Scenes in These Novels Took Place?

Cold weather can serve as a plot point or emphasize the mood of a scene, and this week’s literary geography quiz highlights the locations of recent novels that work winter conditions right into the story. Even if you aren’t familiar with the book, the questions offer an additional hint about the setting. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the books if you’d like to do further reading.

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From NYT’s 10 Best Books of 2025: A.O. Scott on Kiran Desai’s New Novel

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From NYT’s 10 Best Books of 2025: A.O. Scott on Kiran Desai’s New Novel

Inge Morath/Magnum Photos

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When a writer is praised for having a sense of place, it usually means one specific place — a postage stamp of familiar ground rendered in loving, knowing detail. But Kiran Desai, in her latest novel, “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny,” has a sense of places.

This 670-page book, about the star-crossed lovers of the title and several dozen of their friends, relatives, exes and servants (there’s a chart in the front to help you keep track), does anything but stay put. If “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” were an old-fashioned steamer trunk, it would be papered with shipping labels: from Allahabad (now known as Prayagraj), Goa and Delhi; from Queens, Kansas and Vermont; from Mexico City and, perhaps most delightfully, from Venice.

There, in Marco Polo’s hometown, the titular travelers alight for two chapters, enduring one of several crises in their passionate, complicated, on-again, off-again relationship. One of Venice’s nicknames is La Serenissima — “the most serene” — but in Desai’s hands it’s the opposite: a gloriously hectic backdrop for Sonia and Sunny’s romantic confusion.

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Their first impressions fill a nearly page-long paragraph. Here’s how it begins.

Sonia is a (struggling) fiction writer. Sunny is a (struggling) journalist. It’s notable that, of the two of them, it is she who is better able to perceive the immediate reality of things, while he tends to read facts through screens of theory and ideology, finding sociological meaning in everyday occurrences. He isn’t exactly wrong, and Desai is hardly oblivious to the larger narratives that shape the fates of Sunny, Sonia and their families — including the economic and political changes affecting young Indians of their generation.

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But “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” is about more than that. It’s a defense of the very idea of more, and thus a rebuke to the austerity that defines so much recent literary fiction. Many of Desai’s peers favor careful, restricted third-person narration, or else a measured, low-affect “I.” The bookstores are full of skinny novels about the emotional and psychological thinness of contemporary life. This book is an antidote: thick, sloppy, fleshy, all over the place.

It also takes exception to the postmodern dogma that we only know reality through representations of it, through pre-existing concepts of the kind to which intellectuals like Sunny are attached. The point of fiction is to assert that the world is true, and to remind us that it is vast, strange and astonishing.

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See the full list of the 10 Best Books of 2025 here.

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