NASCAR’s business model is on trial in more ways than one. At the center is an economist’s claim that the sport’s charter system and track contracts do not simply organize a racing series, they entrench a dominant operator and systematically shortchange the teams that put cars on the track. The testimony paints a picture of a closed ecosystem in which control over venues, media money, and team access reinforces a powerful monopoly.
As I read through the evidence, I see a consistent theme: the structures that were sold to teams as stability and partnership now look, in court, like tools to suppress competition and bargaining power. The numbers attached to that argument, from hundreds of millions in alleged underpayments to detailed estimates of lost team value, give this antitrust fight stakes that reach far beyond a single lawsuit.
How an economist framed NASCAR as a monopolist
From an antitrust perspective, the most striking development is the way Edward Snyder has framed NASCAR’s role in the stock car market. Snyder, a Yale School of Management economics professor and former economist for the U.S. Department of Justi, has testified that NASCAR fits the description of a monopolist because it controls the only top-tier stock car series that matters commercially and uses that position to dictate terms to teams and tracks. In his view, the combination of sanctioning authority, control over the schedule, and power over who can enter the field gives NASCAR a chokehold on the economic life of elite teams, a conclusion he has repeated across his testimony on NASCAR and its financial practices.
What elevates Snyder’s argument beyond theory is his quantification of the alleged harm. In the federal antitrust case brought by Michael Jordan’s 23XI Racing, Snyder has asserted that NASCAR underpaid teams by $1.06 billion over four years and that the series owes $364.7 million to teams in the specific period at issue. In related reporting, he has been cited pegging the shortfall in one suit at $364.7 million, with courtroom references to figures such as $364 and $364.7 that underscore how granular his damage model has become. In CHARLOTTE, where Michael Jordan’s case is being heard, Snyder has also testified that 23XI itself suffered $215 million in antitrust injuries, a figure that reflects both lost revenue and depressed enterprise value according to his analysis of the team’s finances and the broader market for charters and sponsorships.
Charters as gatekeepers, not just assets
On paper, NASCAR’s charter system was supposed to give teams a more secure stake in the sport, a guaranteed starting spot and a tradable asset that could appreciate over time. In practice, Snyder’s testimony suggests the charters function as gatekeeping instruments that NASCAR can use to control who participates and on what terms. Because NASCAR issues and regulates these charters, any team that wants stable access to the Cup Series must accept a 112 page charter agreement that, according to Snyder’s reading, locks them into revenue splits and competitive restrictions that they cannot realistically refuse. In the antitrust trial in CHARLOTTE, he has described how teams were effectively compelled to sign the 112 page document if they wanted to remain viable, a dynamic that turns the charter from a partnership tool into a mechanism of control.
I find it telling that Snyder’s damages analysis is built around what teams would have earned in a more open system. He has argued that NASCAR’s current arrangements left teams short by hundreds of millions of dollars, including the $364.7 million figure he has attached to the period covered in Michael Jordan’s suit. In one account of his testimony, Snyder is described as believing that NASCAR’s structure deprived teams of $1.06 billion over four years, a gap he attributes to the way charter terms and revenue distributions were set from the top down. When an economist of his stature testifies that a supposedly stabilizing system has instead become a vehicle for underpayment, it reframes charters from lifelines into levers of monopoly power.
Exclusivity deals that wall off rival series
If charters control the teams, track contracts control the stage, and Snyder has been explicit about how those two levers interact. He has testified that NASCAR entered into exclusivity agreements with tracks to stave off any threats of a breakaway series, effectively ensuring that potential rivals could not secure the venues needed to mount a credible challenge. In his view, those exclusivity clauses, layered on top of NASCAR’s sanctioning authority, prevented competitors from obtaining venues, teams, and cars, which is the trifecta any new series would need to get off the ground. Snyder has even theorized that, absent these exclusive deals, there possibly would have been a series created to compete with NASCAR, a counterfactual that goes to the heart of antitrust law’s concern with foreclosed competition.
What stands out to me is how these exclusivity arrangements reinforce the charter system’s gatekeeping function. If tracks are locked into NASCAR, then teams that hold charters have nowhere else to race at comparable scale, and any would-be entrant cannot assemble a schedule that would attract sponsors or broadcasters. Snyder’s testimony in the federal antitrust trial against NASCAR has emphasized that this combination of charter control and track exclusivity protects NASCAR’s dominant position and harms teams by denying them the leverage that comes from credible alternatives. It is not just that NASCAR is the biggest player, it is that, according to Snyder, the contracts are written to ensure it remains the only meaningful player.
The money trail: payouts, profits, and alleged shortfalls
Monopoly arguments often live or die on the money trail, and here the numbers are stark. Internal financial details show that NASCAR paid out an average of $670 million to teams and tracks in 2023 24 while turning an average profit of $340 million in the same span. Those figures, $670 m in distributions against $340 m in profit, illustrate a business that is both highly lucrative and tightly controlled at the top. From my vantage point, they also provide the baseline for Snyder’s contention that teams are not receiving a fair share of the sport’s economic pie, especially when compared with other major leagues where revenue splits are closer to parity between organizers and participants.
Snyder’s damages models attempt to translate that imbalance into concrete losses. In the antitrust case tied to Michael Jordan’s 23XI Racing, he has testified that NASCAR owes $364.7 million to teams, a figure that reflects what he believes they should have received under more competitive conditions. Separate reporting on his broader analysis cites a total of $1.06 billion in underpayments over four years, suggesting that the alleged shortfall is not a one off but a structural feature of the current system. When I line up those claims with the disclosed profit figures, the picture that emerges is of a governing body that has managed to keep hundreds of millions in additional profit by limiting what flows through to the teams that bear the operational risk.
What this means for teams, fans, and the future of the sport
For teams, the implications of Snyder’s testimony are existential. If his estimate that Michael Jordan’s 23XI Racing suffered $215 million in antitrust injuries is accurate, then the value of a modern NASCAR operation is being shaped as much by legal constraints as by on track performance. Teams that believed charters would be appreciating assets now face the argument that those same contracts have capped their upside and locked them into a system where they receive only a fraction of the sport’s growth. In CHARLOTTE, where the federal antitrust trial is unfolding, the courtroom has become a forum for airing grievances that have simmered for years about how much control NASCAR exerts over sponsorships, media money, and competitive opportunities.
From a fan’s perspective, the stakes are less about legal doctrine and more about the long term health of the grid. If teams are systematically underpaid, as Snyder contends, they will struggle to invest in technology, talent, and development, which eventually shows up in thinner fields and less compelling racing. The allegation that NASCAR’s charter and track deals protect a powerful monopoly is not just a corporate critique, it is a warning that the sport’s competitive fabric could fray if the balance of power and money does not shift. As I weigh the testimony and the financial disclosures, I am left with a simple conclusion: the outcome of this antitrust fight will help determine whether NASCAR evolves into a more balanced partnership with its teams or doubles down on a model that keeps control, and a disproportionate share of the rewards, firmly in its own hands.
