It was my fault, I apologize to everyone,” Austin Hill took full responsibility for causing the serious multi-vehicle collision involving Shane van Gisbergen and Connor Zilisch during the San Diego Cup race.
In the high-stakes world of NASCAR Cup Series racing, where split-second decisions can define careers and destroy meticulously prepared machines, Austin Hill stepped forward with rare candor following a chaotic incident at the inaugural NASCAR event on the streets of Naval Base Coronado in San Diego. Hill, driving for Richard Childress Racing, openly admitted his role in a multi-car pileup that abruptly ended the days of several top contenders, including road course specialists Shane van Gisbergen and Connor Zilisch.
The crash unfolded dramatically during a restart in the second stage of the race. With Hill, Zilisch, and van Gisbergen battling three-wide into Turn 1 on lap 31 or 32, Hill missed the apex of the corner. He locked up the rear brakes, sliding up the track and pinching Zilisch’s car against the wall. The contact triggered a chain reaction that collected van Gisbergen’s Trackhouse Racing Chevrolet as well. The impact was severe enough to destroy multiple cars, bring out a red flag, and necessitate wall repairs on the challenging street circuit.
Hill, who had secured an emotional victory in Saturday’s NASCAR O’Reilly Auto Parts Series race at the same venue—dedicating the win in part to the late Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s influence and his team’s resilience following recent challenges—entered the Cup event with momentum. But that momentum evaporated in the blink of an eye on Sunday. Post-incident, Hill wasted no time in owning the mistake. “Sorry guys, locked up the rear brakes,” he acknowledged on his team radio.
In subsequent comments, he expanded on his accountability: “It was my fault, I apologize to everyone.” He specifically expressed regret to the teams affected, noting the lost opportunity for strong finishes across Richard Childress Racing and ECR.
This level of immediate responsibility is noteworthy in a sport where drivers often engage in nuanced post-race analysis to protect their reputations or point to mitigating factors like car handling or external pressure. Hill’s straightforward apology highlighted the pressures of racing on a demanding street course like Naval Base Coronado, with its blind corners, tight confines near hangars and helipads, and the added intensity of a restart where positions are fiercely contested.
Shane van Gisbergen, the New Zealand superstar known for his mastery on road and street circuits, had started strongly from the pole and was positioned as a favorite. After backing out of the three-wide battle to avoid initial trouble, he found himself caught in the ensuing melee. Clearly frustrated, SVG drove his heavily damaged No. 97 Chevrolet back to the garage area. He declined immediate detailed comment on the incident, directing media to “ask the next guys,” a sign of his agitation. Zilisch, another promising young talent in the No.
88 Trackhouse car, also saw his strong run cut short, with both Red Bull-backed Chevrolets sustaining terminal damage.
The incident not only impacted the drivers directly involved but rippled through the field. Ty Gibbs and others were also collected in the pileup, turning a promising restart into a lengthy caution period. The crash underscored the inherent risks of street racing in NASCAR, where the lack of traditional runoff areas amplifies the consequences of any error. Crews worked diligently to repair the wall, allowing the race to resume, but the early exits for frontrunners shifted the competitive landscape significantly.
For Hill, the event capped a whirlwind weekend. His Saturday win in the support series was a highlight, coming after a dramatic battle and amid challenging grip conditions. He credited mental focus and tire management for his success there. Transitioning to the Cup car, however, the stakes were higher. The multi-car wreck represented a setback not just for him but for his teammates and the broader RCR organization. Hill’s willingness to shoulder the blame may help mend relationships within the garage, where accountability is respected even if it doesn’t erase the disappointment.
NASCAR’s street course experiments, like the one at Naval Base Coronado, bring unique challenges. The 2.38-mile layout (or variations mentioned in reports) combines technical turns with military surroundings, creating a spectacle for fans but demanding precision from drivers. This was the first Cup race at the venue, adding unfamiliarity for many competitors. Restarts, in particular, test a driver’s nerve and car control under acceleration from a packed field. Hill’s lockup suggests a moment where rear grip evaporated, possibly due to tire wear, brake balance, or the aggressive push for position after starting on the front row alongside Zilisch.
Reactions from the paddock and fans were swift. Some criticized Hill’s aggressiveness, drawing parallels to past incidents, while others appreciated his honesty. In NASCAR, where rivalries fuel the sport, such crashes can linger in the memory, but genuine apologies often diffuse tension. Van Gisbergen and Zilisch’s teams faced the arduous task of assessing damage and preparing for the next event, a reminder of the financial and logistical toll these wrecks impose.
Broader context in the 2026 season shows a competitive field with emerging talents and veterans adapting to new venues. Corey Heim eventually went on to win the San Diego Cup race, capitalizing on the chaos, but the story of the big one involving Hill, SVG, and Zilisch dominated much of the post-race discussion.
Hill’s post-race reflections extended beyond the immediate apology. He expressed sorrow for derailing what could have been a landmark day for multiple organizations. In an era where social media amplifies every on-track moment, drivers are under increasing scrutiny. Taking full ownership, as Hill did, sets a positive example and humanizes the high-pressure environment of professional stock car racing.
The San Diego event itself marked another step in NASCAR’s expansion of its schedule to include more urban and military-base venues, aiming to attract new audiences while challenging the sport’s traditional oval focus. The crash, while unfortunate, highlighted both the excitement and dangers of this format. As the series moves forward, incidents like this serve as learning opportunities—for drivers refining their approaches to restarts, teams optimizing setups for variable grip, and officials evaluating safety measures on street circuits.
Austin Hill’s admission—”It was my fault, I apologize to everyone”—captures the essence of sportsmanship amid competition. It doesn’t undo the damage or restore lost positions, but it fosters respect and allows the sport to heal and progress. For fans, it reinforces that behind the helmets and high-speed machines are individuals capable of growth and accountability. As the NASCAR season unfolds, all eyes will be on how Hill, van Gisbergen, Zilisch, and the affected teams rebound, turning this disappointment into motivation for future battles.
In racing, as in life, mistakes happen under pressure. What defines character is how one responds. Hill’s response was direct and humble, providing a moment of clarity in an otherwise chaotic afternoon on the streets of San Diego. The sport, and its participants, move on—but the lessons from Turn 1 will resonate for races to come.