NASCAR has long been a haven for drivers whose monikers were as bold as their moves on the track. Glenn “Fireball” Roberts, for instance, didn’t earn his blazing title from the racetrack but from his days as a baseball pitcher with a fastball that sizzled! And Harry Grant remains a man of many monikers: “Handsome Harry” for his movie-star looks, “High Groove Harry” for his fearless racing line, “Mr. September” for a late-season winning streak in 1991, and “Hard Luck Harry” for when fate didn’t cooperate. These are all reflected within different seasons of each driver’s storied careers. And just like those legends before him, Brenden Queen’s unforgettable nickname wasn’t forged in the garage or on the track, but in the most unexpected way.

Before the world knew the nickname or the brand, a quiet obsession with speed was already taking shape on the short tracks of Virginia. Brenden Queen’s journey from backyard tracks to national recognition started when he was just six years old, racing in the Kid Kart division at Langley Speedway in Virginia, mentored by seven-time track champion Phil Warren. In 2023, he broke away under the guidance of Lee Pulliam Performance, capturing four CARS Tour victories and earning a memorable win on a national late model stage. But for many fans, it wasn’t just his racing that left an impression, but the unforgettable nickname that Kevin Harvick has recently uncovered.

How a childhood nickname became a racing brand

On a recent episode of Kevin Harvick’s Happy Hour podcast, Queen looked back fondly on the origins of his nickname. “The Butterbean thing came from when I was a baby,” said Queen. “My granddad called my mom and was like, turn the TV on, like, your son’s on TV, and she turned it on and it was Butterbean the boxer. And I looked like him as a baby, like, just had the same baby features.” That’s how Chesapeake, Virginia’s Brenden Queen, now known affectionately as Butterbean, got a nickname that would define his life and career.

The late heavyweight boxer Eric “Butterbean” Esch, known for his rodent-like stature and punch-heavy amateur style, bore a chubby, endearing likeness to young Brenden. So the name stuck with the latter, first within the family, then with teachers, friends, and eventually the entire local racing community. It wasn’t just a cute moniker; it became a memorable brand before he ever hit the track. “It’s been there since I was born, and somewhere around my legend car day range, it ended up on my name rail,” Queen reminisced. “And then I kind of had a chance to lose it 2017-ish, 16-ish… Like, do you want to keep the nickname or not? And I thought long and hard about it and I said, ‘yeah, I’m going to keep it because I want to be different.'”

That decision was more than sentimental; it shaped Queen’s rapport with fans and skyrocketed his visibility in Late Model Stock circles. From go-karts at age 6 to winning crown jewel events like the Hampton Heat and the South Carolina 400, he carried the “Butterbean” identity with enthusiasm and authenticity. “You might forget Brenden, but you’re not going to forget Butterbean,” said Queen. “You’re going to be like, ‘Oh yeah, I know that name.’ So I kept it and then kind of just started building my brand with it.” After clinching 5 wins in 2022, the nickname evolved into a magnet for fans.

Now, he reaps the reward of keeping the nickname. “You always dream of going to racing and having a fan base. Bean Nation, as we call them now. But I don’t even remember how it started, but like, it’s grown and it’s grown and it’s grown. And I sell my merch. That’s been huge,” he continued. “At the end of the day, when I climb that fence, I’m one of those on the other side, like, hey, I’m ready to come in here and hang out with y’all.” The Bean Nation is complete with merchandising and signature green-and-pink video-game-inspired paint schemes, while also standing out in a sea of talented names. His ARCA debut at Daytona brought the moniker back into the Hyundai of motorsports, as he clinched his first ARCA victory and announced, “Bean Nation, baby—we’re going to the Waffle House.”

But Queen has appreciated their fanbase just as much as they do. “I’ll never be above those people spending their hard-earned money to come watch us race. If they’re not there, what am I racing for?” said Queen, wholeheartedly. “I know I read the comments, people are tired of hearing it [Butterbean], but I’m not. Like, we’re winning. That means they’re hearing about it.” When “Butterbean” made his NASCAR Truck debut at North Wilkesboro for TRICON Garage, 26-year-old Queen pulled a fourth-place finish despite a pit-road penalty, and the crowd erupted not for the winner, but for his memorable nickname moments.

From grassroots triumphs to national platforms, Butterbean Queen’s brand isn’t just a label, but a community, a celebration, and a reminder that being memorable beats blending in. On the other hand, Kevin Harvick‘s eye for raw talent, inviting Brenden to his podcast, and his passion for uplifting others extend far beyond professional relationships.

Kevin Harvick’s unseen mentorship beyond the track

Harvick didn’t just lend his name to a race; he changed the trajectory of a career. When he served as the sponsor for a NASCAR Modified Tour event at Stafford Motor Speedway, he watched in awe as local standout Ryan Preece dominated his home track. That performance grabbed Harvick’s attention and catalyzed a game-changing phone call. “The JTG thing? That never happens without Kevin,” Preece later admitted, crediting Harvick’s endorsement for the opportunity that led to both a part-time ride and eventually a full-time seat with JTG Daugherty Racing.

Harvick’s reach extends far beyond sponsorship logistics. As Dale Earnhardt Jr. revealed on the Dale Jr. Download podcast, Harvick has a history of quietly stepping in to help under-the-radar drivers regain focus. Junio shared how Harvick reached out to struggling racers like Bubba Wallace during his Legends car days to offer guidance and support. Wallace recalled Harvick inviting him personally to join the team, saying, “Come run with us in our outfit. It’ll be better.” That kind of personal investment builds more than careers; it builds confidence.

For Preece, Harvick’s impact went beyond professional opportunities; it built a lifelong bond. Preece also recalled nights spent in the race shop, where Harvick and his wife Delana would unwind with music, “playing NWA and Young Dolph,” he laughed, trading song titles and emoji banter. That blend of mentorship, friendship, and familial warmth is rare in NASCAR’s high-octane, competitive environment.