It has been a few days since the checkered flag waved over Christopher Bell‘s victory at Phoenix International Raceway. From my social media timelines to my email inbox to that guy at the gym who always corners me by the water fountain (you know who you are), the post-PIR refrain has remained the same.
“Hey, man, that race sucked; didn’t it suck?”
After so many days stuck on racing reaction repeat, my refined response has landed squarely in one place, and it has been steered there after spending those days in constant communication with those who were behind the wheel for that race and those who prepared the cars that those drivers wheeled in that race. In fact, let’s let one those racers speak for me, via a text I received Tuesday afternoon.
Yes, Mr. NASCAR Racer who asked to remain anonymous, they did become spoiled. As did I. As did perhaps even the racers themselves. After all, this 2024 NASCAR Cup Series season opened with three consecutive crazy, unpredictable, nail-chewing finishes.
First, came a Daytona 500 that ended under yellow, but the field was so tight and convoluted that even the timing of that yellow came into question, as William Byron edged a field that was wrecking wildly just inches off his rear bumper. One week later, Daniel Suarez came out in front of a three-wide door-to-door-to-door photo finish with defending series champ Ryan Blaney and all-time legend Kyle Busch, winning by a tissue paper margin of .003 seconds, the third-closest finish recorded since NASCAR went to electronic timing and scoring 31 years ago. Even the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, never a bastion of memorable end-of-race moments, produced a Mission: Impossible-ish countdown of drama, as Kyle Larson, who looked as though he would stink up the show early, was forced to fend off Tyler Reddick, ultimately blocking his way to a .441-second win.
See? Spoiled rotten.
It wasn’t our fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was awesome. An entire month of awesome. But it was also like when you hit your favorite steakhouse buffet. Everything is so delicious, and on the surface, it seems as though that eating ecstasy will last forever. But no matter how delectable that steak and fried chicken and chocolate fountain might be, you know deep down that the end is always near. At some point, you’re going to end up hitting a bad batch of mac and cheese. Then again, is it actually bad, or was everything that came before it so amazing that your taste buds’ expectation level has exceeded reality? No matter what came next, it wasn’t going to be enough, even if Gordon Ramsay and Wolfgang Puck were suddenly back there in the kitchen of the Golden Corral.
“Did people see what Bell actually did? He went by me like he was driving for Red Bull!”
No, they didn’t, second anonymous texting NASCAR driver. Honestly, does anyone ever see what Bell does? I mean, he has almost won the past two championships and no one realizes it … but that’s another column for another day. What he did Sunday was take the race’s final green flag sitting 21st with 90 laps remaining and then sliced his way through the field to seize the lead with 40 laps to go. He won by a whopping 5.465 seconds.
Boring? Sure, by 2024 standards, it was boring. On my press box pal Jeff Gluck’s tell-all “Was it a good race?” poll, it scored a 40.2%, compared to 76.1 for Daytona, 77.8 for Vegas and 94.8 for Atlanta (the latter is the fourth-best score since he started compiling his numbers seven years ago).
But the reality is that by Phoenix standards, it was not a bad race. If you are old enough to have watched pretty much every Cup race at PIR since 1988, and I am, then you know that it was actually pretty standard PIR stuff. And if you want to really get real with all of this, then you have to also be willing to admit that a race with 10 lead changes among 6 drivers balanced with 6 caution flags for 40 of 312 laps — 13% of the race — feels like a description that you could copy/paste into the vast majority of Cup Series races run in the 1990s and 2000s. And race fans of the 1960s, ’70s and ’80s would have looked at those numbers and believed that they had just witnessed one of the most thrilling events of the season.
Again, we have become a little bit spoiled. And to be clear, that’s OK. It is not our fault. Because for all of the consistent fan complaints about stage racing and still-new short track packages, those rules and regulations have also led to or are the result of giving us fans more of what we were screaming for more of not so long ago: race days electrified by more restarts and a schedule packed with more short tracks.
“You know, they can’t all be the 1979 Daytona 500 or the end of the movie ‘Cars.'”
Yes, third anonymous racer/texter, we do know that, but we also refuse to accept it. Call it the curse of the highlight era of sports, the hex of being able to call up the finishes of the all-time classics on our pocket computer search engines. The neverending mythology of the greatest finishes in stock car racing history is a gift. However, it also creates a lifetime of unreasonable checkered flag wishes and dreams.
There’s a reason that the Daytona 500s of 1976 and ’79 and the Firecracker 400s of 1976 and ’84 are so revered, and it goes beyond their obvious greatness. They also benefited from the fact that they contrasted so incredibly against all of the other races of that era at Daytona that everyone has since forgotten. Why? Because the overwhelming majority of them — heck, the overwhelming majority of those very races leading up to those day-saving finishes — would have been lucky to have scored a 40.2% on the Gluck scale.
“I have been fortunate to have been a part of some amazing finishes,” racer-turned-commentator Jeff “The Mayor” Burton said to me last year at Daytona, immediately bringing to my mind his side-by-side .051-second victory over Jeff Gordon at Richmond in 1998. “But then, when you went back and didn’t have that same finish, re-creating a once-in-a-lifetime finish, people were like, ‘Well, what happened? That was boring!’ Living up to those moments all the time, that’s impossible.”
The next stop on the schedule has long been the mountaintop of impossible expectations, the bull ring carved into the actual mountains of East Tennessee. Bristol Motor Speedway has brought us Dale Earnhardt vs. Terry Labonte, Episodes I and II, aka “Terry’s Wrecked Win” and the “Rattle His Cage” race. It has also gifted us with wrecks and fights and water bottles bounced off of Hall of Fame faces. But when every single race wasn’t able to match up with that greatest hits highlight reel, what had been NASCAR’s arguably most beloved racetrack suffered from an inexplicable identity crisis. The fabled ticket wait-list vanished. The track was reconfigured, repaved and even covered with red clay.
Many have attempted to explain it, from legendary racing promoters to university economists, but the reason is simple. It’s because every race didn’t end like Dale and Terry in ’95 and ’99.
The good news is that Bristol’s perception has finally and rightfully been restored in recent years. The better news is that we have this problem at all. That’s because you can’t become spoiled unless there was a lot of awesome that happened to spoil you in the first place. Fans didn’t have this issue back in the day. It was quite the opposite. They were numbed by spending so many of their Sunday afternoons watching races they’d already forgotten about by Monday morning, as cars won races not by fractions of seconds but by multiple laps.
So, sure, call us spoiled. I’ll take that, complaining about being bored every now and then instead of most the time, over what I grew up with, which was going to sleep for the middle 250 laps and then watching Dale Jarrett or Jeff Gordon do what Christopher Bell just did, but 30 times a year.
Hang on, I have another text from another driver who wants the final word.
“All we can do is drive our asses off and what happens is what happens. Hopefully, that’s enough for everyone.”
The Chicago White Sox won the 2026 MLB draft lottery Tuesday and will pick first in next summer’s draft.
The White Sox had the best odds to get the top pick at 27.73% after finishing 60-102 in the 2025 season. They will have the top selection for the first time since taking Harold Baines in 1977.
Tuesday’s draft lottery determined the first six spots of the first round, with the remaining picks being set in inverse order of the teams’ regular-season records.
The league-worst Colorado Rockies(43-119) were not eligible for this year’s lottery because a team cannot receive a lottery pick in three consecutive years. They will pick 10th in the draft.
The Washington Nationals and Los Angeles Angels also were not eligible because they are “payor clubs” — or teams that give rather than receive revenue-sharing dollars — and cannot receive a lottery pick in consecutive years. The Nationals landed the 11th pick, while the Angels will pick 12th.
MLB and the players’ association established the lottery in the March 2022 collective bargaining agreement. The union pushed for the innovation to encourage teams to compete for wins rather than trade off players at the deadline in an attempt to get a higher draft choice.
The 2026 draft will take place July 11-12 in Philadelphia as part of MLB’s All-Star Week festivities.
The Nationals won the lottery last year and selected high school shortstop Eli Willits with the No. 1 pick.
It’s still very early in the draft process, but it’s a perfect time for a quick five-pick mini-mock draft to see how things could play out in July. Four of the five players in last winter’s edition of this exercise landed in the top 11 picks on draft day, so it’s fair to think we have a reasonable idea of how the top picks will play out even though a lot can change in the seven months ahead.
Here is my early prediction for the first five picks in the 2026 MLB draft, after consulting with industry sources combined with my own scouting.
1. Chicago White Sox: Roch Cholowsky, SS, UCLA
Cholowsky was a big name in the 2023 draft, ranking 32nd on my final board as a standout defender with solid tools, but questions on his overall offensive upside along with a big asking price. His bonus price wasn’t met and he was solid as a freshman at UCLA, then took a huge jump forward as a sophomore, hitting 23 home runs last season.
He is still a standout defender but now both his (above-average) hit and (plus) power tools have developed, allowing evaluators to go back over the last decade and find comps at the tops of previous drafts, like Dansby Swanson or Troy Tulowitzki. Cholowsky has a pretty solid lead on the pack for the top pick right now, but it isn’t insurmountable due to the solid group of up-the-middle, high-upside talents in this class.
The lottery couldn’t have gone better for the White Sox after a 102-loss season, landing the top pick in a year where there is a clear preseason favorite to be the top pick. Chase Meidroth and Colson Montgomery are solid shortstop options in the big leagues with Caleb Bonemer and Billy Carlson as Top 100 types in the low minors, but Cholowsky would give the White Sox a great problem: too many good players at the most important position on the field.
2. Tampa Bay Rays: Grady Emerson, SS, Fort Worth Christian (Texas) HS, Texas commit
Emerson has been touted as the top prep prospect in the 2026 class for years and has held that title through the summer showcase season and fall workouts. He’s a 6-foot-2, left-handed hitting shortstop who projects as above average to plus at almost everything on the field. He may not be truly plus-plus at anything right now, but he’s still only 17 years old, so that could develop.
Given his long track record of being an elite prospect and being in the most desirable player demographic in the draft, he’s a consensus talent in this pick area, even for teams that don’t normally take high school players at the top. The Rays are not that team, taking a prep shortstop in the top two rounds in each of the last three drafts; Tampa Bay also loves left-handed hitters. Emerson is the rare prep prospect who is a safer pick than the vast majority of college players but also comes with more upside.
Lebron was scouted as part of the loaded 2023 prep class alongside prep teammate Antonio Jimenez, who was a third-round pick of the Mets out of UCF in 2025. Lebron’s hitability and athleticism each jumped a tick right when he got to Tuscaloosa and the 6-foot-2 shortstop is now a plus runner, thrower and defender with above-average raw power. His pitch selection is fine with the only question being about his bat-to-ball ability due to worse-than-average miss rates last season, fueled somewhat by an uphill, power-driven approach. If Lebron can find a happy medium between his swing plane, contact and power, he could challenge Cholowsky as the top pick.
The Twins haven’t been scared of a little swing-and-miss if it comes with big upside in recent drafts, like with Billy Amick, Brandon Winokur and Quentin Young the last three years, but also love taking collegiate shortstops like Kaelen Culpepper, Marek Houston and Kyle DeBarge. Lebron threads the needle of certainty given his tools and positional profile but also untapped upside due to his contact/power balance being a little off kilter at the moment.
Burress was a pick to click of mine in the 2023 draft, ranking 40th overall on my board (among the highest ranks among media and teams), but ultimately proving unsignable to the teams that also had him in that range. He stands only 5-foot-8, so impact power wasn’t expected at that point, but he had more power than you might think given his size, along with a long track record of hitting for average, plus speed and center-field defense.
Burress exploded at Georgia Tech, particularly when it comes to power — hitting 25 homers as a freshman then 19 in his sophomore year — fueled by what is now above-average raw power. He grades as above average or plus in all five tools, but his approach/swing is more power-oriented than in high school, so balancing his abilities at the plate in pro ball could be key to reaching his ceiling. The Giants have picked college position players with their top three picks each of the last two years and will likely be staring at a best available player from that same demographic in 2026.
Gracia had almost no national scouting profile coming out of a New Jersey high school as a two-way player in 2023 before heading to Duke. He immediately showed scouts he should’ve been considered a real pro prospect out of high school, hitting .305 with 14 homers as a freshman, then following it up with more walks, fewer strikeouts and 15 homers as a sophomore. Gracia transferred to Virginia after the season, following much of the Duke coaching staff.
He is a 6-foot-3 center/right field tweener for now who is above average at almost everything in the batter’s box, especially his ability to lift/pull the ball in games, though his swing can get too uphill at times.
The Pirates seem to be turning the corner with Konnor Griffin and Bubba Chandler joining Paul Skenes and Co. while they’re also looking to spend money in free agency, so I see them leaning into the college position-player group that is a strength in this class.
After another week of frustrating setbacks, at the end of a frustrating year trying to bring stability to their industry, a growing number of college athletic directors say they are interested in exploring a once-unthinkable option: collective bargaining with their players.
Dozens of athletic directors will gather in Las Vegas over the next few days for an annual conference. They had hoped to be raising toasts to the U.S. House of Representatives. But for the second time in three months, House members balked last week at voting on a bill that would give the NCAA protection from antitrust lawsuits and employment threats. So instead, they will be greeted by one of the Strip’s specialties: the cold-slap realization of needing a better plan.
“I’m not sure I can sit back today and say I’m really proud of what we’ve become,” Boise State athletic director Jeramiah Dickey told ESPN late last week. “There is a solution. We just have to work together to find it, and maybe collective bargaining is it.”
Athletic directors see only two paths to a future in which the college sports industry can enforce rules and defend them in court: Either Congress grants them an exemption from antitrust laws, or they collectively bargain with athletes. As Dickey said, and others have echoed quietly in the past several days, it has become irresponsible to continue to hope for an antitrust bailout without at least fully kicking the tires on the other option.
“If Congress ends up solving it for us, and it ends up being a healthy solution I’ll be the first one to do cartwheels down the street,” said Tennessee athletic director Danny White when speaking to ESPN about his interest in collective bargaining months ago. “But what are the chances they get it right when the NCAA couldn’t even get it right? We should be solving it ourselves.”
Some athletic directors thought they had solved their era of relative lawlessness back in July. The NCAA and its schools agreed to pay $2.8 billion in the House settlement to purchase a very expensive set of guardrails meant to put a cap on how much teams could spend to acquire players. The schools also agreed to fund the College Sports Commission, a new agency created by the settlement to police those restrictions.
But without an antitrust exemption, any school or player who doesn’t like a punishment they receive for bursting through those guardrails can file a lawsuit and give themselves a pretty good chance of wiggling out of a penalty. The CSC’s plan — crafted largely by leaders of the Power 4 conferences — to enforce those rules without an antitrust exemption was to get all their schools to sign a promise that they wouldn’t file any such lawsuits. On the same day that Congress’ attempt crumbled last week, seven state attorneys general angrily encouraged their schools not to sign the CSC’s proposed agreement.
In the wake of the attorneys general’s opposition, a loose deadline to sign the agreement came and went, with many schools declining to participate. So, college football is steamrolling toward another transfer portal season without any sheriff that has the legal backing to police how teams spend money on building their rosters.
That’s why college sports fans have heard head football coaches like Lane Kiffin openly describe how they negotiated for the biggest player payroll possible in a system where all teams are supposed to be capped at the same $20.5 million limit. Right now, the rules aren’t real. The stability promised as part of the House settlement doesn’t appear to be imminent. Meanwhile, the tab for potential damages in future antitrust lawsuits continues to grow larger with each passing day.
Collective bargaining isn’t easy, either. Under the current law, players would need to be employees to negotiate a legally binding deal. The NCAA and most campus leaders are adamantly opposed to turning athletes into employees for several reasons, including the added costs and infrastructure it would require.
The industry would need to make tough decisions about which college athletes should be able to bargain and how to divide them into logical groups. Should the players be divided by conference? Should all football players negotiate together? What entity would sit across from them at the bargaining table?
On Monday, Athletes.Org, a group that has been working for two years to become college sports’ version of a players’ union, published a 35-page proposal for what an agreement might look like. Their goal was to show it is possible to answer the thorny, in-the-weeds questions that have led many leaders in college sports to quickly dismiss collective bargaining as a viable option.
Multiple athletic directors and a sitting university president are taking the proposal seriously — a milestone for one of the several upstart entities working to gain credibility as a representative for college athletes. Syracuse chancellor and president Kent Syverud said Monday that he has long felt the best way forward for college sports is a negotiation where athletes have “a real collective voice in setting the rules.”
“[This template] is an important step toward that kind of partnership-based framework,” he said in a statement released with AO’s plan. “… I’m encouraged to see this conversation happening more openly, so everyone can fully understand what’s at stake.”
White, the Tennessee athletic director, has also spent years working with lawyers to craft a collective bargaining option. In his plan, the top brands in college football would form a single private company, which could then employ players. He says that would provide a solution in states where employees of public institutions are not legally allowed to unionize.
“I don’t understand why everyone’s so afraid of employment status,” White said. “We have kids all over our campus that have jobs. … We have kids in our athletic department that are also students here that work in our equipment room, and they have employee status. How that became a dirty word, I don’t get it.”
White said athletes could be split into groups by sport to negotiate for a percentage of the revenue they help to generate.
The result could be expensive for schools. Then again, paying lawyers and lobbyists isn’t cheap either. The NCAA and the four power conferences combined to spend more than $9 million on lobbyists between 2021 and 2024, the latest year where public data is available. That’s a relatively small figure compared to the fees and penalties they could face if they continue to lose antitrust cases in federal court.
“I’m not smart enough to say [collective bargaining] is the only answer or the best answer,” Dickey said. “But I think the onus is on us to at least curiously question: How do you set something up that can be sustainable? What currently is happening is not.”
Players and coaches are frustrated with the current system, wanting to negotiate salaries and build rosters with a clear idea of what rules will actually be enforced. Dickey says fans are frustrated as they invest energy and money into their favorite teams without understanding what the future holds. And athletic directors, who want to plan a yearly budget and help direct their employees, are frustrated too.
“It has been very difficult on campus. I can’t emphasize that enough,” White said. “It’s been brutal in a lot of ways. It continues to be as we try to navigate these waters without a clear-cut solution.”
This week White and Dickey won’t be alone in their frustration. They’ll be among a growing group of peers who are pushing to explore a new solution.