Competition Plus Team
Since our inception, we have been passionately dedicated to delivering the most accurate, timely, and compelling content in the world of drag racing. Our readers depend on us for the latest news, in-depth features, expert analysis, and exclusive interviews that connect you to the sport’s pulse.
NITRO IN THE BLOOD: HOW THE CAPPS FAMILY TURNED SIBLING RIVALRY INTO A LIFETIME PURSUIT
And just to think, some people believe sibling rivalry is something kids grow out of. Clearly, no one who believes that ever met the sons of John Lee and Betty Capps. The family that met at a drag race produced two boys who learned early that the only thing louder than a nitro Funny Car was the urge to beat each other at anything that could roll.
For Ron and Jon Capps, competition wasn’t encouraged — it was inherited. Their parents lived a racing life long before they were parents, and weekend identity revolved around tracks like Bakersfield and Pomona. The boys absorbed the noise, the grit, the routine of proving yourself, and eventually realized the rivalry wasn’t a childhood phase. It was the foundation for everything they became.
Ron, the older brother, built a decorated NHRA Funny Car career with three world championships, 939 round wins and 77 national event victories. Jon, forged in the same heat but following a different road, became a standout in nostalgia drag racing and stunt work, culminating in his stunning sweep of the March Meet and California Hot Rod Reunion this year.
And though their résumés diverge, the rivalry never did. “It never stopped,” Jon said. “If something has wheels on it, we’re going to turn it into a competition.”
They had a childhood designed for speed — and for friction. Big Wheels were their first battleground, and those plastic machines didn’t stand a chance. Ron remembers their parents constantly replacing them because the brothers wore out the wheels drifting through their homemade neighborhood “track.”
“We wore out a lot of them,” Ron said. “Mom and Dad kept buying whole new Big Wheels. We’d slide those things around until there was nothing left.”
Jon remembers those same days from the plastic seat of his Big Wheel, grinding the front wheel flat from pushing harder through every lap. “I drove mine so hard I flat-spotted the tire more than once,” he said. When Ron outgrew his, the neighborhood solution was simple: tie Jon’s to the back of a bicycle and tow him through the streets.
What started with plastic toys escalated into bicycles, motorcycles, skateboards and go-karts. If it moved, it was a contest. And if one brother won, the other demanded the next round. Competition became their shared language.
Ron still laughs at how quickly Jon closed the gap. “Anything else, I realized pretty fast I was outgunned,” he said. “You’re the older brother — you’re supposed to be better at everything. But that didn’t last long.”
The rivalry didn’t preclude loyalty. They could rough up each other all day, but no outsider had permission. “That was definitely the case,” Jon said. “If somebody else messed with him, they were dealing with both of us.”
Their father’s sense of humor made the environment even rowdier. He loved pranks, and his sons picked up the habit. Jon still winces at the memory of his most infamous stunt — a TV-inspired “face powder hit” that landed more like a punch.
“I swung too hard,” Jon said. “His nose was bleeding through the powder cloud — and the asswhipping that followed was earned.”
Racing didn’t calm the rivalry — it matured it. Ron’s ascent through NHRA Funny Car is well documented, and Jon’s unconventional path took him through nostalgia nitro and Hollywood stunt work. But when Jon swept Bakersfield this year with wins at both the March Meet and Reunion, the rivalry gained new texture.
Ron knew exactly what it meant, in part because he’d won at Bakersfield himself — not in a Funny Car, but years earlier in a Fuel Altered. That history made his reaction even sharper.
“We weren’t sure we heard it right when they said he went 5.48,” Ron said of watching on a Facebook stream after leaving the track the night before. “Instantly I thought, ‘That’s the boom heard around the world.’ For nostalgia Funny Car, that’s the number everyone chased.”
He knew the run reshaped class expectations. “Bucky Austin… man, that ruined his whole weekend,” Ron said. “Everybody thought his car was going to be the one. So for Jon and Cecil Matthews to pull that off — that’s a big deal.”
Professional jealousy? Sure. But pride, too — because Ron understood Bakersfield as part of their family’s history. They grew up there, spending weekends in the grandstands and riding little motorcycles behind the pits while their dad raced.
“To win there once is great,” Jon said. “To win there twice in the same year — that’s like winning an Emmy.”
Rivalry becomes poetry when trophies tell different stories. Ron owns the world championships, the NHRA titles, the long-term professional résumé. Jon owns the achievement Ron once coveted — the nostalgia Funny Car sweep of Bakersfield.
“Ron says, ‘I’ve won multiple championships,’ and I say, ‘I swept Bakersfield,’” Jon said.
Ron smiles at the line even while admitting it hits hard. “He outgunned me there,” he said. “And it hurt to say that.”
The twist becomes richer knowing how badly Jon once chased the NHRA dream, and how Ron once longed for Bakersfield’s top nostalgia honors. “The irony is definitely there,” Jon said. “Life works out weird like that.”
Even Google got involved. When Jon tried to confirm if anyone had ever swept Bakersfield, the search engine credited a different Capps. “Google said Ron did it,” Jon said, laughing. “I can’t even get credit for it on Google.”
He tried to correct the record, only for the search results to disappear entirely. “So I don’t think I’ve officially done it yet until Google says it,” he joked.
As adults, their rivalry has spilled into places far beyond drag racing. When Jon became a stunt driver, Ron became one of his biggest fans. He still marvels when seeing his brother appear in Ford v Ferrari, Ferrari, Gran Turismo or when receiving videos of Jon filming halfway around the world.
“It’s pretty cool to wake up and have him sending videos from across the world filming a movie with Patrick Dempsey,” Ron said. “Or watching a commercial and going, ‘Hey — that’s him.’”
Yet Ron also believes Jon still belongs behind the wheel of something faster. He recently spoke with Del Worsham about giving Jon shots in a Top Fuel dragster during selected IHRA events.
“He’s one of the few who could just jump in and adapt,” Ron said. “For a part-time program, that’s exactly the kind of driver you want.”
The rivalry even extends into virtual racing. Whether on Ron’s simulator or Jon’s, they take turns setting laps until one breaks the other’s time, and no one gets out of the seat willingly.
“We were brought up that there’s no crying in baseball,” Jon said. “But really, in our family, there’s no losing.”
At its core, the Capps rivalry isn’t about bragging rights. It’s about identity. It’s the way two brothers raised at the dragstrip learned to express pride, competitiveness, frustration and admiration — often at the same time.
Ron summed it up simply: “Very much so, and still is.”
Jon echoed that without meaning to: “Did it ever stop?”
The answer is obvious. Because for Ron and Jon Capps, rivalry wasn’t something they outgrew. It was something they grew into — and something that still burns with nitro intensity today.
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Competition Plus Team
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NITRO IN THE BLOOD: HOW THE CAPPS FAMILY TURNED SIBLING RIVALRY INTO A LIFETIME PURSUIT
And just to think, some people believe sibling rivalry is something kids grow out of. Clearly, no one who believes that ever met the sons of John Lee and Betty Capps. The family that met at a drag race produced two boys who learned early that the only thing louder than a nitro Funny Car was the urge to beat each other at anything that could roll.
For Ron and Jon Capps, competition wasn’t encouraged — it was inherited. Their parents lived a racing life long before they were parents, and weekend identity revolved around tracks like Bakersfield and Pomona. The boys absorbed the noise, the grit, the routine of proving yourself, and eventually realized the rivalry wasn’t a childhood phase. It was the foundation for everything they became.
Ron, the older brother, built a decorated NHRA Funny Car career with three world championships, 939 round wins and 77 national event victories. Jon, forged in the same heat but following a different road, became a standout in nostalgia drag racing and stunt work, culminating in his stunning sweep of the March Meet and California Hot Rod Reunion this year.
And though their résumés diverge, the rivalry never did. “It never stopped,” Jon said. “If something has wheels on it, we’re going to turn it into a competition.”
They had a childhood designed for speed — and for friction. Big Wheels were their first battleground, and those plastic machines didn’t stand a chance. Ron remembers their parents constantly replacing them because the brothers wore out the wheels drifting through their homemade neighborhood “track.”
“We wore out a lot of them,” Ron said. “Mom and Dad kept buying whole new Big Wheels. We’d slide those things around until there was nothing left.”
Jon remembers those same days from the plastic seat of his Big Wheel, grinding the front wheel flat from pushing harder through every lap. “I drove mine so hard I flat-spotted the tire more than once,” he said. When Ron outgrew his, the neighborhood solution was simple: tie Jon’s to the back of a bicycle and tow him through the streets.
What started with plastic toys escalated into bicycles, motorcycles, skateboards and go-karts. If it moved, it was a contest. And if one brother won, the other demanded the next round. Competition became their shared language.
Ron still laughs at how quickly Jon closed the gap. “Anything else, I realized pretty fast I was outgunned,” he said. “You’re the older brother — you’re supposed to be better at everything. But that didn’t last long.”
The rivalry didn’t preclude loyalty. They could rough up each other all day, but no outsider had permission. “That was definitely the case,” Jon said. “If somebody else messed with him, they were dealing with both of us.”
Their father’s sense of humor made the environment even rowdier. He loved pranks, and his sons picked up the habit. Jon still winces at the memory of his most infamous stunt — a TV-inspired “face powder hit” that landed more like a punch.
“I swung too hard,” Jon said. “His nose was bleeding through the powder cloud — and the asswhipping that followed was earned.”
Racing didn’t calm the rivalry — it matured it. Ron’s ascent through NHRA Funny Car is well documented, and Jon’s unconventional path took him through nostalgia nitro and Hollywood stunt work. But when Jon swept Bakersfield this year with wins at both the March Meet and Reunion, the rivalry gained new texture.
Ron knew exactly what it meant, in part because he’d won at Bakersfield himself — not in a Funny Car, but years earlier in a Fuel Altered. That history made his reaction even sharper.
“We weren’t sure we heard it right when they said he went 5.48,” Ron said of watching on a Facebook stream after leaving the track the night before. “Instantly I thought, ‘That’s the boom heard around the world.’ For nostalgia Funny Car, that’s the number everyone chased.”
He knew the run reshaped class expectations. “Bucky Austin… man, that ruined his whole weekend,” Ron said. “Everybody thought his car was going to be the one. So for Jon and Cecil Matthews to pull that off — that’s a big deal.”
Professional jealousy? Sure. But pride, too — because Ron understood Bakersfield as part of their family’s history. They grew up there, spending weekends in the grandstands and riding little motorcycles behind the pits while their dad raced.
“To win there once is great,” Jon said. “To win there twice in the same year — that’s like winning an Emmy.”
Rivalry becomes poetry when trophies tell different stories. Ron owns the world championships, the NHRA titles, the long-term professional résumé. Jon owns the achievement Ron once coveted — the nostalgia Funny Car sweep of Bakersfield.
“Ron says, ‘I’ve won multiple championships,’ and I say, ‘I swept Bakersfield,’” Jon said.
Ron smiles at the line even while admitting it hits hard. “He outgunned me there,” he said. “And it hurt to say that.”
The twist becomes richer knowing how badly Jon once chased the NHRA dream, and how Ron once longed for Bakersfield’s top nostalgia honors. “The irony is definitely there,” Jon said. “Life works out weird like that.”
Even Google got involved. When Jon tried to confirm if anyone had ever swept Bakersfield, the search engine credited a different Capps. “Google said Ron did it,” Jon said, laughing. “I can’t even get credit for it on Google.”
He tried to correct the record, only for the search results to disappear entirely. “So I don’t think I’ve officially done it yet until Google says it,” he joked.
As adults, their rivalry has spilled into places far beyond drag racing. When Jon became a stunt driver, Ron became one of his biggest fans. He still marvels when seeing his brother appear in Ford v Ferrari, Ferrari, Gran Turismo or when receiving videos of Jon filming halfway around the world.
“It’s pretty cool to wake up and have him sending videos from across the world filming a movie with Patrick Dempsey,” Ron said. “Or watching a commercial and going, ‘Hey — that’s him.’”
Yet Ron also believes Jon still belongs behind the wheel of something faster. He recently spoke with Del Worsham about giving Jon shots in a Top Fuel dragster during selected IHRA events.
“He’s one of the few who could just jump in and adapt,” Ron said. “For a part-time program, that’s exactly the kind of driver you want.”
The rivalry even extends into virtual racing. Whether on Ron’s simulator or Jon’s, they take turns setting laps until one breaks the other’s time, and no one gets out of the seat willingly.
“We were brought up that there’s no crying in baseball,” Jon said. “But really, in our family, there’s no losing.”
At its core, the Capps rivalry isn’t about bragging rights. It’s about identity. It’s the way two brothers raised at the dragstrip learned to express pride, competitiveness, frustration and admiration — often at the same time.
Ron summed it up simply: “Very much so, and still is.”
Jon echoed that without meaning to: “Did it ever stop?”
The answer is obvious. Because for Ron and Jon Capps, rivalry wasn’t something they outgrew. It was something they grew into — and something that still burns with nitro intensity today.
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NITRO IN THE BLOOD: HOW THE CAPPS FAMILY TURNED SIBLING RIVALRY INTO A LIFETIME PURSUIT
And just to think, some people believe sibling rivalry is something kids grow out of. Clearly, no one who believes that ever met the sons