Denny Hamlin has long lived under the shadow of a fate that feels both dramatic and poetic. Last year, exasperated by a string of playoff heartbreaks, he famously opined, “I am the black cat of death. I’m (f—g) cursed.” The remark echoed across racing circles, capturing the essence of years spent dominating races and leading laps, only for luck or circumstance to steal the limelight in the final moments. A perfect example came in the 2024 Martinsville playoff run, when a freak throttle malfunction mid-practice sent him careening into the wall, rewriting his championship trajectory in a split second. Fans saw him as both brilliant and ill-fated, a driver with talent in spades, haunted by the cruelest twists.

The narrative got a jolt of swagger this September at Gateway, though, when Ham

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