Unbothered by Criticism, Richard Petty Takes a Dig at Problematic Fans

NASCAR fans are a fiery bunch, the kind who live and breathe the roar of engines and the thrill of a tight finish. But sometimes, that passion veers into rough territory. The sport’s got a history of dealing with rowdy infield crowds, too much booze fueling tempers, and even fistfights breaking out in the stands. Drivers haven’t been shy about calling out fans who cross the line, like when Jeff Gordon got pelted with beer cans after a controversial Talladega win in 2004, or when social media trolls go after drivers’ families with nasty comments.

Those moments cast a shadow, stealing the spotlight from the racing itself. NASCAR’s been pushing hard to shake off old stereotypes and grow beyond its Southern roots, aiming for a more inclusive vibe. But every so often, incidents like fans booing new sponsors or targeting drivers who don’t fit the “traditional” mold show that some corners of the fanbase haven’t quite caught up with the sport’s modern evolution.

Most fans are fiercely loyal and respectful, but the loud minority who stir up trouble can make it tough to bring new folks into the fold. Now, Richard Petty, the sport’s legendary “King,” has weighed in on this mess, and true to form, he’s got a sharp take that cuts through the noise.

In his signature laid-back yet pointed way, Petty’s called out the fans who let their biases get in the way of enjoying the sport, while also reflecting on the personal losses that have shaped his perspective.

Petty talks about misjudgment

Petty’s no stranger to the highs and lows of NASCAR’s fan culture. With 200 Cup Series wins and seven championships under his belt, he’s seen it all, from adoring crowds to the occasional heckler. His cowboy hat, sunglasses, and North Carolina drawl made him a larger-than-life figure, but not everyone’s been on board with his iconic persona.

In a recent chat with The Athletic, he got real about how fans and critics size him up. “I don’t know what people think about me. Everybody who has ever met me has a different opinion of me. Some of it might be, ‘I don’t like the way he looks. I don’t like the way he talks. He’s from the wrong part of the country,’” Petty said.

That kind of candor shows why they call him “The King.” His 200 wins and seven championships, tied with Dale Earnhardt and Jimmie Johnson for the most ever, made him a hero to many, but his Southern roots and flashy style, cowboy hat, shades, and all, rubbed some folks the wrong way.

As NASCAR grew from a regional pastime to a national sport, Petty’s image became a symbol of its Southern heritage, which some fans embraced and others saw as outdated or too tied to stereotypes. For every fan cheering his name, there was someone quick to judge his drawl or his North Carolina vibe, especially as the sport tried to appeal to a broader crowd. Yet Petty’s never let it faze him, staying true to who he is.

He doubled down on that in the same interview, saying, “There’s nothing you can do to change people’s opinion. Most of the time, the first time people meet you, that’s when they put you in a category. And if it’s a bad category, it takes you forever to get out of it. First impressions are very important. But I’ve got no control of what other people think.” That’s a lesson forged in decades of racing and scrutiny.

Early on, some doubted Petty, whispering that his success came from his dad, Lee Petty, a NASCAR champ himself. But “The King” shut them up with dominant runs in the ‘60s and ‘70s, proving his talent was no fluke. Still, he’s faced his share of backlash, like when he took a swipe at Danica Patrick in 2014, saying she’d only win “if everyone else stayed home.”

That comment sparked a firestorm, showing how one offhand remark can stick in fans’ minds, fair or not. Petty’s point is clear: fans are quick to judge, and those snap decisions, whether about his look, his words, or his roots, can shape how they see him, no matter his record. His unbothered attitude is a reminder that in NASCAR, like life, you can’t please everyone, and he’s not about to try.

Petty reflects on loss and resilience

Richard Petty’s not just a racing legend; he’s a man who’s faced gut-wrenching loss, and he’s opened up about it in a way that hits hard. Speaking with Jeff Gluck, he shared the toughest chapter of his life: losing his wife, Lynda, to cancer in 2014. “My wife went down with cancer. For four or five years, she kept getting worse and worse and then died. Just me and her lived in that big old house. All of a sudden, I lived by myself, and so I had to change my way of thinking, my way of doing stuff.” he said.

That loss, after 55 years of marriage, was tougher than anything he faced on the track, even more than losing his grandson Adam in a 2000 crash at New Hampshire. “That’s probably the biggest disappointment in my whole life. Even though I lost my mother, my daddy, and my brother, [the marriage] was something I lived with 55 years. So it was really hard to swallow.”

In 2014, just months after Lynda’s passing, Petty admitted he had to relearn how to live. Lynda, who died at 72 after a seven-year battle with cancer, wasn’t just his partner; she ran the show at home and left a mark on NASCAR by helping start the Racing Wives Auxiliary, a fund to support injured members of the racing community.

A decade later, Petty’s found a way to keep going, leaning on a new support system. “Well, I was fortunate,” he said. “I have three daughters who run things now for me, and I’ve got a lady who looks after the house, one helps around the farm, one that goes with me from time to time and makes sure I can get my right food and right medicines or whatever it is. So really, I think I’ve got six or seven people taking care of me. Where it used to be one: Lynda Gayle took care of me. So it took a bunch of people to do the same job she was doing.”

That resilience shines through, showing how Petty’s faced personal tragedy with the same grit he brought to the track. His ability to keep moving forward, even after such a profound loss, puts his take on problematic fans in perspective.