The job of a drag racing promoter might seem like a glamorous one — and after all the expenses are paid, it might be, in some cases — but it’s not a role for everybody, and it’s not one that we would personally want to have. Beyond the financial risk of putting on an event, the months of work knocking on sponsors’ doors, negotiating contracts, and scheduling, there’s the social aspect: fielding calls from racers who all have a different, biased opinion on the rules, which has to be delicately balanced in a way that, hopefully, doesn’t upset a whole subset of potential racers.

To add to that, there are also the bracket and index competitors (the fillers, as some call them) who will be paying an entry fee and expecting equal treatment to the categories and the racers headlining the event; the cars that are selling the tickets, the hot dogs, and the beers, and filling the otherwise empty grandstands.

It’s a unique chore, and one not typically found in other forms of event promotion. And, as we’ve found in our travels to drag racing events around the country, it’s one that some promoters excel at, and other simply get swallowed up in.

In particular, we find that some promoters (we’ll name no names) are unable to juggle the opinions and the demands of the two “classes” of paying racers, and the needs of the paying spectator. The end result is an event that lacks direction or organization for anyone on either side of the fence.

While we journalists are always quick to criticize the National Hot Rod Association for its failings, one thing that they do better than anyone else — where they should serve as the model for how to run a drag race — is manage the wants of the spectators, their bread and butter, while also accommodating the racers, from top to bottom. When you buy a ticket to an NHRA national event to see nitro cars, one thing you’re guaranteed is that, barring rain or unforeseen circumstances, you’ll be watching what you paid good money to see at exactly the time you were told you would see it.

The NHRA is dead-serious about their professional class schedule, and they won’t hesitate for a second to move or cancel altogether a round of Super Stock or Super Comp to give their fans the show they came for. Is that justifiable if you’re a sportsman racer, who has sat around all day waiting for a time run, only to have it cancelled? Probably not, and as huge sportsman racing fans, the Dragzine team would wish to see more respect paid in general to the grassroots racers. After all, they paid their money, too, and in a competitor-driven sport, they hold just as many cards as anybody in the pit area. But the reality is that the NHRA has a show to put on, and fans to please, and that requires them to manage things like a business would, giving a hierarchal priority to its professional racers.

The NHRA isn’t alone. Earlier this week we published an editorial on the Bader family and their world-renowned Summit Motorsports Park, outlining the successful approach they take to the business of drag racing entertainment. And a big part of what they do so well is delivering the show, as advertised, to their fans.

That, if you ask us, is an approach that more promoters should be following.

We couldn’t tell you how many times we’ve been to races where the class schedule, giving equal love to the heads-up and bracket racers, was strictly adhered to, only to watch the fans leave in droves at sunset after seeing one too many bracket cars and not enough of what they paid to watch. That unwavering approach to a race schedule does nothing to entice fans to return the following year, and it certainly doesn’t please the heads-up racers who have done their between-round maintenance and continue to wait long into the night for a qualifying or elimination run.

This, again, is where the NHRA and the Baders excel.

By not only limiting the number of categories and entries at a given race, but also adhering to a very aggressive schedule from the outset, they typically have some cushion in their race schedule; even if a class does have its session cancelled to make room for the pro show, it doesn’t mean the sportsman racer is forced to run at midnight. At worst, it’s an hour or two delay. Other promoters will contest three and four days of qualifying, shoehorn eliminations into one day, and end up with no leeway, no ability to appease all of their racers, and the grandstands empty long before the final rounds are even contested. That’s a no-win for everybody involved.

Regardless of how a promoter manages his or her event, race promoters ultimately deserve the utmost in respect (caveat: if they always pay their racers), but we’d like to see them take more of a show-first approach to their events. These days, it’s harder than ever to get fans through the gates, and for no reason should they be turned off on the sport simply because they didn’t get to see the show they were promised until the wee hours of the morning. As racers, fans, and even media, we should be demanding more of those putting on the races we attend.