Scott Bloomquist’s Daughter Delivers Heart-Wrenching Tribute to Tony Stewart for Being a Father Figure After Her Dad’s Death
In a moment that brought tears to even the most hardened racing fans, the daughter of late dirt racing legend Scott Bloomquist stood before a silent crowd, her voice trembling but clear, as she delivered a tribute to Tony Stewart—a man who stepped into her life when the world felt empty and broken.
It had only been months since the world lost Scott Bloomquist, an icon in dirt late model racing whose name was etched into the sport’s history with sheer grit, determination, and charisma. To his fans, he was “Black Sunshine,” a fearless competitor with a dark aura and unmatched presence on the track. But to his daughter, he was simply “Dad”—a larger-than-life figure who taught her how to dream big and live without fear.
So when the man who had been her rock was suddenly gone, she was lost.
“I didn’t know how to breathe without him,” she began, clutching the microphone with both hands, standing in front of a packed memorial service held at Eldora Speedway—Scott’s favorite track. “I didn’t know how to keep going, how to face a world without my dad in it.”
But in the darkness, a light emerged—one that she never expected.
“Tony Stewart didn’t owe me anything,” she said, pausing as her voice cracked. “But he gave me everything.”
Tony Stewart, a three-time NASCAR Cup Series champion and longtime friend and rival of Bloomquist, quietly stepped into the void. Without fanfare, he began checking in. A phone call here, a text message there. Then came the visit to her college dorm, the long talks at the track, the rides in his pickup truck where the silence was filled with comfort instead of emptiness.
“He never tried to replace my dad,” she said through tears. “But he made sure I never felt alone.”
She shared a story of one night in particular. It was her birthday—her first one without her father. She had told everyone she wanted to spend it alone, but Tony showed up anyway, driving several hours just to sit on her porch and hand her a single cupcake with a candle.
“He lit it and said, ‘Make a wish. And if it’s something I can make happen, I will.’”
From helping her with her first car breakdown to walking her onto the track during her first attempt at racing, Stewart quietly, steadily became the father figure she never thought she’d need.
“I remember calling him after I crashed during a local race,” she said, smiling weakly. “I was sobbing, embarrassed, and frustrated. And all he said was, ‘Well, you didn’t die. That’s a win.’ That was my dad’s kind of wisdom.”
The room laughed through their tears.
In Tony Stewart, she found echoes of her father—his strength, his stubbornness, his passion for racing—but also something new: the willingness to show up, even when it was hard. Even when no one asked him to.
“People say racing is just a sport. But if you’ve ever been part of this family, you know better. It’s life. It’s loss. It’s love. And Tony Stewart didn’t just talk about it—he lived it.”
She ended her tribute with a letter she had written to both men.
“To my dad: Thank you for building me into the person I am. I miss you every single day, and I’ll carry your fire forever. And to Tony: Thank you for catching me when I fell. You may not be my blood, but you are my family. You gave me back something I thought I had lost for good—hope.”
The silence that followed was heavy. And then, slowly, the crowd rose to their feet in applause—not just for the words spoken, but for the love shared between a daughter, a father lost, and a man who stepped in when it mattered most.
It was more than a tribute. It was a testimony—to the bonds that racing creates, and the ones that endure long after the checkered flag has fallen.
