In the 2024 Talladega playoff race, Blaney’s day ended in ugly fashion. He was wrecked out toward the end of Stage 2, as he got spun after a bump from Alex Bowman, which sent his No. 12 car into the SAFER barrier. Blaney even radioed in a sharp “thank the 48 (Bowman)” after the hit, showing how personal these collisions feel.

Before the crash, he’d been running toward the front, working with teammate Austin Cindric, navigating multi-wide traffic without incident. But late in Stage 2, the pack closed in, lanes compressed, and one misstep or one aggressive move was enough to wreck his race. It’s a harsh reminder that at superspeedways, even strong runs can unravel in a blink.

Now, Blaney is laying it bare, hating the biggest thorn in these beasts: the fuel-saving chess that turns drafting duels into drag-strip drudgery.

Blaney’s fuel-save fury

Blaney unloaded on Sirius XM lately, nailing the shift that’s soured the plate tracks: “That’s such an interesting game nowadays … you jump the groups that don’t save as much … that’s just become a huge game.” He flat-out owns the dislike, admitting ahead of a Talladega tilt, “Do I like it? No. I don’t know if anyone really likes it.”

Those skimpy gas saves, a second or a half, flip the script on cautions or green stops, turning raw wheel-to-wheel into whispered whispers over throttle tweaks. It’s the Next Gen twist where strategy steals the show, leaving drivers nursing fuel like a bad hangover, all while the pack parades in pretend pace.

He digs into the daily grind: “In our mind, we go try to be as efficient fuel mileage as we can … find yourself in a spot coming down to the end of stages … after the green flag stops … no matter what point of the race it is.”

Blaney spells it out, teams dialing save-mode from the drop, speeding up only when pits loom because who knows the next jam. Yellows hit, and it’s toggle time, a habit baked in deep. Even without constant radio rubber-stamping, efficiency owns the playbook, positioning for stage scraps or full-race gambles, Blaney’s crew chief vibes in every lap logged.

Track spot steals the edge: “In the top two rows I feel like … you can really make something happen … put yourself in a position to win the race … execute all that stuff perfectly and you find yourself … in a spot to win.”

Front-row fresh air breathes life at ‘Dega or Daytona, cleaner draft, bolder lines, the aero gift that leads. Blaney lives it, his 2023 YellaWood snatch by a foot off a killer restart proving spot plus snap seals the deal. Nail the grid, nail the run, and you’re not chasing; you’re crowned.

He flashes the file: “We were in ’23 at Talladega. We did a really good job … came out on the front row … ended up winning the race. … This past Daytona … drive from the mid pack to the front … I’ve always found it safest being … controlling the race leading … making the pace what you want it to be.”

That October ’23 hold-off by whiskers? Pure Blaney, front-row fury flipping to victory. Daytona 2025’s fingernail shave over Suárez? Mid-pack magic to checkers. Leading locks it, fewer curveballs, your tempo on tap, though the target paints your tail. Blaney banks it, hates the save but loves the lead.

Flex seals the rant: “So hopefully we hit the strategy right … bring the best speeds … prepare the best you can … plan A to plan Z … if you have to audible through the race … that’s what you have to do.”

Superspeedway roulette demands the full deck, crews eyeballing 70 gallons blind, flipping scripts mid-lap. Blaney owns the pit dance, even short a lap, you call it, save the scraps. Hate the game, but play it all, from green-light gambles to yellow-flag yanks, where one audible turns trash to treasure.

Blaney’s fuel hate ties straight to the chaos that begs a buffer like NASCAR’s fresh DVP tweak, scrapping time limits for garage grace at Talladega.

DVP Lifeline

Wrecked playoff pups now patch and push, scraping stage scraps or lap limps to pad the points pot for Martinsville’s must-mess and Phoenix’s finale glory. It’s the playoff parachute, letting the eight survivors salvage from the big one, turning total loss into tallied hope.

DVP’s glow-up nukes the old DQ doom, where pit-road patch fails meant parking for the playoffs. Now, if the inevitable ‘Dega pileup piles in, crews hustle hammers and hope, clawing back whatever points the pace car spits. Those nuggets? Gold for the cutline crawlers, buying breaths for the short-track scramble next week.

Blaney’s teetering, dead last of the eight, 31 points shy of safe harbor. Teammate Logano laps close, 24 back, both staring at win-or-wipeout. “Yeah, (the DVP) could definitely come into play,” Blaney tossed in a media huddle.

“You never know what your damage is until you can assess it and (say) ‘Hey, can we repair this thing to get back out?’ You might see that, for sure.” So that changes it in that way to where, like as before, if you got in a little accident and you can’t fix it on pit road, you’re done. Now, you at least have a shot, which I think is the right way to be. So, yeah, you could definitely see a little race within the race depending on what goes down throughout it.”

Blaney banks the buffer, the fix-it frenzy blooming into mini-marathons amid the mess. Hate the save game, but this? It’s the smart salve, turning superspeedway spite into second chances, where strategy saves more than just gas.