Kyle Busch’s Family, Faith And Sponsors Anchor Him After A Difficult Year

WINSTON SALEM, NORTH CAROLINA – FEBRUARY 01: Kyle Busch, driver of the #8 zone Chevrolet looks on prior to practice for the Cook Out Clash at Bowman Gray Stadium on February 01, 2025 in Winston Salem, North Carolina. (Photo by Sean Gardner/Getty Images)

Getty Images

There can be little argument that Kyle Busch has not had a season to remember. Again. After a second winless season in the NASCAR Cup Series, his lack of on-track performance has been scrutinized, picked apart, and every nut and bolt, chassis setup, and pit stop has been pored over with the kind of intensity you’d expect from NASA engineers trying to figure out why their rocket didn’t clear the tower.

It’s like he’s been cast as the lead in a movie called “Winless.” It’s an uncomfortable role for a driver who has spent most of his life thundering around racetracks like a man convinced the throttle has only two positions: wide open and are you sure that’s all it’s got?

But there is another role NASCAR’s most complicated figure has been playing, almost quietly. A role that doesn’t involve horsepower, helmets, or turning a stubborn race car into something resembling a competitive object.

Here, at the quiet edge of 2025 the two-time Cup champion can be spotted following his daughter around Millbridge Speedway a 1/7-mile dirt track near Mooresville, North Carolina—not in a stock car but following behind her on an ATV at walking speed while she circles the clay in a tiny micro dirt car roughly the size of a Golden Retriever.

As seen in a recent social media clip, Kyle kneels beside the car, straps Lennix in with the intensity of a man prepping a moon launch, double-checks every latch, then trails slowly behind her. Meanwhile mom Samantha stands trackside, waving as if watching an opening night Broadway performance rather than a three-year-old carving her own unpredictable racing line.

When Rowdy Becomes Dad

In this role he’s not the driver who has 63 Cup wins with a nickname that still sends tremors through the garage. In this moment, he isn’t “Rowdy.” He’s just dad, circling a small dirt track behind a tiny race car containing his most precious commodity and part of a pillar in the support system has become the new center of gravity in Kyle Busch’s life.

When we interviewed Kyle this year—first in August, again in November—what kept rising to the surface wasn’t frustration or polished corporate stoicism. It was the power of his support system: Samantha, Brexton, Lennix, and the quiet orbit that keeps him upright no matter what the win record says.

“It’s always good,” Kyle said in August. “Anytime you have a tough day at the track, the kids don’t necessarily care. You’re back to Dad.”

But he also admitted that even with family, there is a tough part— one that stings a little. It centers on his son Brexton. The 10-year-old is already well on his way to forging a racing career of his own. But the memories of celebrating after his dad’s NASCAR wins are fading.

“The older he gets and the more he’s gotten into racing and the more he wins, he wants to see his dad winning as well,” Kyle says. “…and being able to celebrate the big weekends on Sundays in Victory Lane with the Cup Series. It’s a little bit harder when we’re not winning as much as I used to. That’s definitely tough.”

Inside the Tough Moments

Samantha, who manages the family’s day-to-day chaos while crisscrossing the Cup circuit, added perspective on how these tough moments actually unfold. After a rough Sunday, the ride to the airport goes quiet—painfully quiet. Sometimes nothing comes out for 15 or 20 minutes until Kyle is ready. It’s like sitting in a rolling decompression chamber. Eventually, he’ll start talking, venting, picking apart the race from every angle. Samantha has learned to wait for that switch to flip, giving him the space to let the pressure bleed off on its own.

But Lennix doesn’t know silence. Her personal mission seems to be snapping Dad out of whatever competitive storm cloud he’s sitting under. Samantha relayed a story about the airport van after a bad race during what would normally be the decompression time…

“Lennix has these little finger puppet dolls, and she looks at Kyle, and she’s like, ‘Daddy?’,” she said while taking a break from the action at Millbridge. “Soon everyone was singing songs from Frozen and Moana.”

Kyle has learned to embrace those interruptions.

“Yeah,” he says. “They help you forget about things… Gets you back to life.”

Sometimes even Kyle’s crew gets swept up in these little moments of joy. Like after a race, when he and the crew, along with Lennix, were waiting on the tarmac for the rest of the team.

“She just wanted to play duck, duck, goose,” he said in a tone that was clearly conveying a smile. “So, they were playing duck, duck, goose. And then she just wanted to be kind of swung around in circles by her arms…we were kind of doing that and getting dizzy and just playing.”

What Brands See That the Box Score Doesn’t

There is another pillar in Kyle Busch’s world that hasn’t wavered: sponsors. This would normally be a footnote, but not this year—not during a stretch when results haven’t matched expectations. In modern NASCAR, brands can be fickle. A driver who stops winning can find themselves with more empty hood space than a suburban mall so dead even the Halloween pop-ups give up on it.

But Kyle? His car has been full all season.

“On the racetrack is still the number one priority,” he said. “When you’re not winning as much, sponsors have the chance to move on. But thankfully, we have the ones we have. They’re pushing me along, giving me wisdom, giving me support.”

One of those sponsors is StarKist, which jumped into NASCAR pool this year not by dipping a toe, but by handing Kyle the keys to their first major activation in the sport. They didn’t just sign “Kyle the driver” however.

They signed the Busch family.

“Kyle is legendary,” StarKist Head of Marketing Mike Merritt said. “But we really liked Kyle and his family. Samantha, Brexton—the whole thing. Authentic, fun, great content, huge reach. For us, it was the best of both worlds.”

Samantha emphasized how genuine partnerships like this align with the family’s values.

“It’s really awesome,” she said. “You know, I think Starkist realized that we do everything as a family. We’re on the go together all the time… really the brand partnership worked and it was authentic.”

The family carries that authenticism to whole new level.

“It’s easy to have the Starkist tuna pouches or chicken pouches, whichever we have on that day,” Kyle says. “We pack them in our bags that we travel with. It’s easy to just kind of have high protein, healthy snacks that help us fuel in times in which, you know, you get to the airplane and they’ve got these cold sandwiches that have been sitting out for a couple hours. It’s like, yeah, you know, I don’t want one of those. I’d rather actually have a buffalo tuna pouch.”

What Grounds the Busch Family

Finally, there’s faith. Something that has quietly become another pillar in the Busch household, one that has helped them navigate setbacks and reflect on what really matters.

“I mean, yeah,” Kyle said. “You put your faith in God in a lot of things—racing, life, decisions you have to make as a family. You think you can make the best choices yourself, but honestly, a lot of it’s in God’s control.”

Samantha echoed that perspective, and how it keeps the family grounded.

“I think when you get deeper in your faith and when you’re strong as a family and you kind of put life in perspective, you’re like, okay, there’s nothing I can do,” she says, “That race was done. I gave it my all. but I’m still going to show up for my family.”

His faith, and his family have helped him through this difficult stretch simply by existing in the way only family can. And Kyle is using it as an advantage, creating teachable moments.

“It’s a lesson time for Brexton,” Kyle said. “He wins a lot right now. But at some point, it’s going to slow down. You’re not always going to win every race. You’re going to lose a heck of a lot more races than you’re ever going to win.”

He adds a somewhat poignant footnote to the lesson:

“Enjoy the wins but also know that there’s a lot of hard work in order to achieve those and there’s a lot of things that you do to prepare yourself as you get older.”

Maybe it’s a message Kyle seems to be telling himself as much as his son. A lesson about how being a father has changed, and taught him:

“I’m just dad,” he said. “It’s helped me put the tougher races aside easier. You load up, you go home, and you figure out what you can do better.”

If anyone thinks the Busch family slows down when the season ends, think again. Sure, they might be home for a week, maybe two but the “off-season” in the Busch household is simply the part of the year where they race in different weather.

“It just is who we are,” Samantha says. “We have so much fun. We just kind of make the most of wherever we go.”

They do, however, carve out a holiday trip and for a short time become not a family that’s spent a decade in motion but one trying to remember what it feels like to… stand still. This year: New York City. The tree, the ice rink, the lights, the simple luxury of wearing normal clothes instead of fire suits and polos.

“When we go on a trip and you have no racing to do,” Kyle says. “You pack normal clothes, some dinner clothes… it’s fun to do that.”

Now at the quiet edge of 2025 when most people reflect on the year gone by and what they are most grateful for, he gives a somewhat surprising answer. It isn’t a sponsor or a result—or even family, though that’s implied in every sentence he speaks these days.

“I’m very, very grateful for Richard and Judy Childress,” he says almost without hesitation. “They gave me and my family an opportunity…I’m grateful for this chance.”

What Comes Next

So, what has Kyle Busch learned about himself through all this—through the wins, the losses, the reinventions, the fatherhood, the faith, the fights, the evolution from Rowdy the outlaw to the far calmer figure sitting on the other end of a phone line?

“You have to prove yourself when you’re young,” he said. “All you care about is winning. But you grow up through losses. I didn’t handle those well. Once I got older, had Samantha, had our children… you realize life is much greater than racing every Sunday.”

That’s the theme. Not legacy. Not retirement. Not rebuilding years or future plans. But perspective.

Kyle Busch still burns to win. He still believes—and deeply—that 2026 can swing things back his way; that Brexton will get to see him in Victory Lane again. That his daughter will one day understand why Dad chased trophies for a living.

But he’s also the father pacing an ATV behind a tiny dirt car at Millbridge. The man belting out Frozen songs in an airport van because it makes his daughter laugh. The husband leaning on Samantha’s strength and faith when the season gets heavy. Grateful for a second chance at a career rebirth in Welcome, North Carolina.

He’s still Rowdy.

He’s just become something far more dangerous: a man who finally knows what matters when the helmet comes off.