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An event official scans in the finalists for judging, a total of 15.
There is an assumption that a trip into the infield at a NASCAR race is something akin to an expedition into Appalachia.
Not true at all, though you will find some bold, self-assured hot sports opinions.
Jason Sagmiller
Reserve grand champion Mike Gomez, left, with Jason Sagmiller and Sagmiller's son Diesel.
Like a Texas flag with “F*ck Kyle Busch.” I’m not sure Stephen F. Austin would approve of that modification.
I can assure them, however, that Kyle Busch has an opinion about them, too.
You also won’t find anybody whistling Dixie these days, despite the stereotypes. These are all red-blooded Americans whose chief obsession is a good time and racing. And opinions. They’ve all got them. They aren't afraid to share them.
That’s a characteristic of NASCAR. Drivers, consumers, program peddlers … they’re all quite self-assured. I was taken aback when hearing that Bubba Wallace admitted he struggles with depression and anxiety.
It’s just not every day you see a NASCAR driver admit a weakness. That is not part of the DNA.
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Mary Lynn Gammill checks in a brisket competitor.
Poor Bubba, the pole sitter, had some bad luck on Sunday during the Autotrader EchoPark Automotive 400. He led all day until the final restart when William Byron of Hendrick Motorsports shot past him for the victory.
“Just choked,” said Bubba.
On Saturday, the day I was out there, John Hunter Nemechek won the Xfinity Andy’s Frozen Custard 300. I’ve written about him before. Good people, the Nemecheks.
Both of those guys had good weekends, but so did many of the others in attendance. Do you know what’s the best thing about the Andy’s Frozen Custard 300? Unlimited custard in the media center, that’s what. If you’re ever offered a little cup of custard called “Cannoli Thunder Concrete,” don’t ask any questions. Just take it.
Holy Cannoli.
And then there’s barbecue. I filled up on it at lunch, compliments of Lucky Spur Ranch of Justin, before I took my trip into the infield.
I had official business to attend to there as a judge in the brisket competition of the Pardi Batch BBQ Showdown, an event of the International BBQ Cookers Association, which also featured chicken and pork spare ribs categories. I just did the brisket.
“What do you know about that?” my snarky bartender said to me.
“My appetite knows all,” I replied.
A quick aside: There was a crew which showed up right before the judging, believing they, too, could judge. They were turned away, told the judges had been picked in advance, but given leftover ribs as a consolation. They jumped on those ribs as if they had just come off a Yom Kippur fast.
Race Crew Drum Smokers
This is a Bubba Blue drum, made by Race Crew Drum Smokers, with wet charcoal gray accessories. Side handles, a diffuser plate and casters were added to this drum.
Back to the business at hand. Jason Sagmiller’s business is smoking. Not in the sense of the noble pursuits of Willie or Snoop Dogg. He builds and sells cooking smokers as Race Crew Drum Smokers. His Race Crew BBQ is a competition and catering company that opened in 2014.
“This all started with me running my mouth to my brother-in-law,” said Sagmiller, 39, a resident of Spring, that charming hamlet north of Houston.
Together, they built a smoker and began entering barbecue competitions.
“He threw me a flyer and said, ‘Hey, let’s try and see how good you actually are. I ended up getting really high scores and I’ve been hooked ever since.”
Sagmiller was the grand champion of Saturday’s Pardi competition at TMS, including winning the brisket and pork spare ribs. (As a judge, I didn’t know which was his. Judging is completely anonymous. Not even the administrator of the event, Mary Lynn Gammill, knows whose smoked meats are whose. The competitors are all identified by a number.)
Sagmiller won $1,400 and the perk of being introduced to the stage before Sunday’s Autotrader EchoPark Automotive 400.
“It's a great way to get your name out there, in front of thousands of people,” he said. “I didn’t want to get like nervous or anything, so I don't trip and fall. But, no, going up on the stage, as they are announcing everything … it makes you feel good, it makes you feel accomplished.
“That was really the goal for the weekend.”
In addition, Sagmiller and grand reserve champion Mike Gomez got a trip up to Jon Pardi’s suite. Pardi is a country music singer and songwriter.
“That was freaking amazing,” Sagmiller said. “So, that's the stuff we strive for.”
The competition is a business in itself. Sagmiller said his average cost to enter a competition is $750. The includes entry fee and supplies. He said he does about 40 competitions a year. You could do the math from the phone you’re reading this on, but that’s about $30,000.
So, it’s expensive. He has a sponsor who helps with operating costs, he said.
But making the IBCU circuit is something he loves to do, and he has to do it.
This is his business, after all.
Sagmiller invented his drum smoker about five years ago because “I’m cheap.” That is, he didn’t want to spend the money on an expensive brand. He had 55-gallon fuel drums lying all about. He was racing dirt modifieds at the time.
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The benefit of being a judge is one can dress like U.S. Sen. John Fetterman. These are some rib judges.
“So, I cleaned one, you know, burned it all out and, made my first one,” he said. “It turned out absolutely fantastic. I built two more and was off to the races. I went from finishing in the top 10 once or twice to constantly in the top 10 and winning events on a regular basis.”
It’s all in this smoker, not to mention technique and time, this success he’s had on the circuit.
He estimated that he builds between 150-200 smokers for sale a year. To the consumer, the smokers range in price from $650-$1,200. He does not use fuel drums anymore. He has a manufacturer in Chicago who makes the smoke barrels specifically designed for his business. Charcoal and wood chips provide the source and smoke.
Sagmiller has been full time at it for about two years. For a spell, he was working full time as a pump mechanic, building the smokers, and competing.
The boss, however, finally put her NASCAR foot down, laying down the law. Like a driver, his wife was not afraid to establish a position. It had nothing to do with Kyle Busch.
“My wife was not happy the way I was spending my time. To be honest, I was very selfish with my time. And, she came out and she said, ‘Hey, you need to choose your real job or the smokers; you ain't doing both no more.' I'm like, 'All right, c’mon.'”
Jason Sagmiller has lived happily ever after since.