“If you aren’t backed by billionaire-level resources, you can’t realistically compete weekly in NASCAR anymore,” fact or fiction? You could have your personal opinions on it, but that is what many smaller teams feel. That is also something B. J. McLeod recently argued about. But Brad Keselowski digresses.

While the debate actually comes from rising costs in the NASCAR Cup Series, especially charter prices, technical alliances, sponsorship expectations, and more, Keselowski, himself a co-owner of a NASCAR Cup Series team, thinks:

“You know, I am not sure if I would characterize it the same way. The shift that I have seen has been more of, rather than team-owner-based influence, more OEM influence. OEMs have more influence than they did for any time I have been a part of the sport. And they have chosen to support the billionaires because of the stability that they represent. I probably view it more as the OEMs than anything else.”

Keselowski’s own path into team ownership actually helps explain what he meant by that. 

When he became a co-owner in 2021, he didn’t attempt to build a Cup Series team from scratch. Instead, he left Team Penske and joined what was then Roush Fenway Racing as both a driver and equity partner, triggering the organization’s rebrand to RFK Racing. The ownership structure now combines Jack Roush’s long-standing engineering base, Fenway Sports Group’s institutional investment, and Keselowski’s competitive leadership. That layered structure alone reflects how modern NASCAR ownership works today. A single wealthy individual isn’t funding everything independently, but it’s a coordinated partnership between capital, technical infrastructure, and operator experience.

That distinction matters because it directly supports Keselowski’s point about OEM influence. Even as a successful Cup champion, launching a brand-new team independently would have required securing a charter reportedly valued in the tens of millions, building a race shop infrastructure from the ground up, negotiating manufacturer alignment, and establishing long-term sponsor pipelines before even turning a competitive lap. Instead, he entered an existing ecosystem that already had those foundations in place.
RFK Racing itself had another major advantage long before Keselowski arrived: Fenway Sports Group.

The organization, which owns the Boston Red Sox and Liverpool FC, purchased a significant stake in the former Roush Racing back in 2007. So when Keselowski joined as a co-owner, he wasn’t replacing capital or rescuing a struggling startup. He was stepping into a structure that already carried institutional backing, engineering depth, and established manufacturer relationships. Ford’s role inside that structure further illustrates the shift Keselowski described.

While Ford Performance does not own RFK Racing outright, its involvement runs deeper than simple branding alignment. Through programs like Roush-Yates Engines and the broader Ford Performance technical ecosystem, the manufacturer contributes simulation collaboration, engineering pipelines, and aerodynamic development support that significantly lower the barrier to staying competitive week after week. 

He immediately gained access to charters that would have been expensive and difficult to acquire separately, inherited long-term sponsor relationships like Fastenal that take years to establish, entered an already integrated Ford engine alliance, and stepped into a race shop infrastructure capable of supporting a multi-car operation. This is also why the modern driver-owner role looks very different from what it once did.

Earlier generations of driver-owners like Tony Stewart or Alan Kulwicki helped lead organizations that relied heavily on individual ownership identity. Today’s version is closer to an equity partnership inside a broader investment structure. Keselowski at RFK Racing, Denny Hamlin at 23XI Racing, Justin Marks at Trackhouse Racing, and Jimmie Johnson at Legacy Motor Club all followed variations of the same path: joining established ownership frameworks rather than building teams entirely on their own.

Even Keselowski’s earlier experience running Brad Keselowski Racing in the Truck Series likely shaped that approach. Despite success at a lower-cost level of the sport, the operation eventually closed after a decade, reinforcing how difficult long-term sustainability can be without layered financial and technical support. The Cup Series simply multiplies those requirements.

That context is exactly what sits underneath the current “billionaire debate.” The question isn’t necessarily whether every owner must personally be a billionaire. Instead, the more accurate reality is that competitive Cup Series organizations almost always operate inside ownership structures that include institutional investors, manufacturer alignment, sponsor stability, and charter equity. RFK Racing checks all four boxes, which helps explain why Keselowski views the shift less as a billionaire takeover and more as a manufacturer-driven evolution.

It also explains why someone like B. J. McLeod sees the situation differently.

BJ McLeod can’t afford to run in the NASCAR Cup Series anymore

B.J. McLeod’s comments about affordability come directly from his experience running Live Fast Motorsports as a full-time Cup team between 2021 and 2023. He and partners Matt Tifft and Joe Falk bought a charter from Go Fas Racing to guarantee weekly entry and revenue stability, but by 2023, the team sold that charter to Spire Motorsports for roughly $40 million and stepped back to part-time competition. That decision reflected the widening gap between charter value and the cost required to operate competitively. The charter itself appreciated significantly, but sustaining a full-season Cup program with competitive intent required far deeper resources than Live Fast could justify committing long term.

And, that’s also why he says: “We just simply can’t afford it. Right? Like, it’s—to run every week and own a charter and do it correctly. I feel like for me personally, where I’m at in life and the things I’ve done, I don’t want to be there unless I can try to compete.”

Running a chartered car typically requires operating budgets in the $18–25 million range per season per car, and teams without stable manufacturer-level infrastructure or long-term sponsorship pipelines often struggle to close that gap. 

Live Fast’s structure also explains why he frames the issue in “billionaire” terms. The team relied on technical alliances, including Chevrolet-aligned support through organizations like Richard Childress Racing, rather than maintaining the simulation depth, engineering staff, and development pipelines typical of flagship manufacturer teams. In today’s Cup Series, those resources usually come through large ownership groups, institutional investors, or strong OEM positioning. Without that support layer, independent teams face a much steeper financial climb to stay competitive across a full season.

Selling the charter when valuations rose allowed Live Fast to reduce weekly operating exposure while continuing to enter select races without carrying full-season costs. McLeod’s comments reflect that shift: the challenge wasn’t staying in NASCAR, it was staying in the Cup Series with a structure capable of competing properly.