About a quarter into his celebration jog from the top end back toward the starting line after his first NHRA Funny Car victory, Jordan Vandergriff realized he had badly underestimated both the moment and the mileage.
The kid had driven too far down the shutdown area at South Georgia Motorsports Park before climbing out to celebrate. That meant a much longer run back toward the cameras, the crew and the emotions waiting at the starting line. Somewhere around the first few hundred feet, the celebration started turning into survival mode.
“Honestly, the first of, I would say about 100 feet I was going pretty good,” Vandergriff admitted Friday at Route 66 Raceway. “I felt like I had a good stride to my step and then all of a sudden when I started realizing I had my boots on still and my breath started getting heavier, I was like, ‘Uh-oh, this is a little longer than I thought.’”
The rookie Funny Car winner kept going anyway because by then there was no turning back. Pride has a funny way of overruling oxygen.
“And I wasn’t even close to the finish line yet,” Vandergriff continued. “So I was like, ‘Uh-oh, this is going to be long, but I’m committed now so I’ve got to make it all the way.’”
The celebration itself carried family history behind it. Vandergriff’s uncle, former Top Fuel racer Bob Vandergriff Jr., became known years ago for his own victory sprints from the shutdown area after winning rounds and races. Jordan wanted his own version of that memory.
He also learned why veterans eventually stop doing it.
“When my uncle met me on the track, I was like, ‘Okay, now I can stop running right here,’” Vandergriff said with a laugh. “I remember he goes, ‘You going to run the rest of the way?’ And I was like, ‘Nope, we’ll do the interview right here.’”
For Vandergriff, the run became symbolic of the whole experience surrounding his first NHRA victory. It started with pure adrenaline, quickly became exhausting, and by the end he was simply trying to absorb everything happening around him before it disappeared.
One week later, the reality still hasn’t completely settled in.
The first career Funny Car victory at the NHRA Southern Nationals changed the conversation around Vandergriff almost overnight. Drivers spend years being labeled prospects, hopefuls or developing talents. Winning removes all those labels.
Now the driver of the John Force Racing Cornwell Quality Tools Funny Car arrives in Chicago no longer chasing validation. He already owns it.
“What does a first-time winner do in the week after a race?” Vandergriff repeated rhetorically. “Well, I don’t know. I think everybody’s experience is probably different, but I know for me it was try and lock back in and get ready for the next race.”
That answer may sound polished on the surface, but it reflects how quickly the NHRA schedule forces drivers forward. A Funny Car victory can dominate headlines for several days, yet by the time teams unload at the next facility, the sport resets itself.
That reality became obvious to Vandergriff almost immediately.
“I know that my first win was a big accomplishment of mine,” Vandergriff said. “It was a big goal of mine in my career and my life and it finally happened, but it really puts in perspective just how important that is for me, but in the grand scheme of things, this John Force Racing Cornwell Quality Tools team, that’s one win of hopefully many this year.”
That mentality explains why veterans inside the John Force Racing camp weren’t interested in allowing the team to linger in celebration mode for too long. Winning one race earns respect. Winning repeatedly changes careers.
So Vandergriff spent the week balancing appreciation with preparation.
“I locked back in and we’re here in Chicago now trying to get back-to-back wins,” he said.
That doesn’t mean he ignored the moment entirely. The Wally trophy quickly became the centerpiece of his apartment, positioned like a prized possession earned after years of sacrifice.
For drivers raised in NHRA culture, a Wally isn’t just another trophy sitting on a shelf. It represents legitimacy. It represents surviving long enough in one of motorsports’ toughest classes to finally leave with proof.
Vandergriff admitted he caught himself staring at it more than once during the week.
“I took it in,” Vandergriff said. “I hung out with Wally a lot. I gave him his own little place in my apartment, and he’s got his hat, and his medal, and he’s chilling.”
There were quieter moments during the week where the reality crept back into focus.
“And there were times where I was sitting on the couch watching TV or whatever and I would look over and I would just look at him for a little bit,” Vandergriff said. “It’s just nice having him in my place.”
The conversation eventually turned toward what happens when the second Wally arrives. That question drew the most relaxed answer of the afternoon from Vandergriff, whose personality has steadily become more visible as his confidence inside the Funny Car grows.
“Well, the good thing about Wally is that I think he enjoys the company of his twins,” Vandergriff said. “So as many Wally’s as I could possibly get, I think they’re all going to hang out along.”
Then came the comparison only someone from Vandergriff’s generation could make.
“It’s like minions,” he said. “It’s like the movie Minions. I’m Gru and I need as many of my minions, my Wally’s as I can get.”
