Final Bout II: Even More Final This Time

Kind of an ironic name, isn’t it? I’m not familiar with the intentions of the first event, or whether there was ever supposed to be a second one. Was it meant to be the “Final Bout” of the year? Of all time? Or, better yet, was it an homage to the Dragonball Z video game? I think only a few people know the truth, and even less could have predicted the cultural impact the first event brought with it. Just as a preface, this article is going to have a lot of strong opinions and it’s also going to sort of cover last year’s event too. I never got to write an article for that one, so this article is more of a retrospective look on both events as a whole. You’ll also note that I’m using a lot of photos from last year in this first half. Don’t get it twisted: Jordan got rid of that Miata. His FD is cool and you’ll just have to accept that you’ll never see that tan little rocket ship ever again.Final Bout came to be in a time when grassroots drifting was focused on an apparent “missile crisis” and the sport’s largest professional series was dealing with its own laundry list of problems. (Can I just say that referring to drifting as a “sport” makes me cringe, but I can’t seem to find a better classification). At its heart, drifting isn’t really a competition. I mean, yes, of course you can attempt to quantify it and score it and make millions of dollars off of it – and some have. While that exposes countless new people to it, it doesn’t necessarily expose it in a good way. It’s like if you’re seeing a really great band live for the first time, but you’re forced to wear glasses in the wrong prescription and listen to a set of headphones that play the same V8 noise over and over. That, and there’s a drunk idiot arguing with his drunk idiot friends about which driver has the better tasting energy drink sponsor. Then halfway through the band’s set, some dude comes on stage and announces the set is cut short and some shitty old butt-rock band that’s been playing way longer is actually the winner, instead of the band with more style and innovation and talent. I guess if that works for you, then whatever. That analogy kinda fell apart towards the end, and I don’t blame you if you don’t get it. 

Don’t get me wrong, professional drifting is cool. It’s as cool as anything is when you pump millions of dollars into it and push it to the absolute extreme interpretation of the original source material. Watching two 4-digit horsepower cars tandem ride the wall at Evergreen Speedway is unreal, and I still think everyone should experience it at least once. It’s loud, it’s flashy, it’s a totally visceral sensory overload. While there are problems with how professional series in America are run currently, I think my issues are with the fundamentals of professional drifting. I don’t view drifting, at its core, as something that is supposed to be a competition. I’ve also never been to Japan and have only heard stories of what drifting is like there; I have no idea how their professional series is run or how happy people are with it. I guess most of what I have to say is specific to my experience with drifting in America.

I’m just trying to establish where my head was at in early 2014 when I first found out about Final Bout. I was diving deep into my fascination with Formula 1, and in comparison Formula D seemed like such a joke. Why follow a motorsport that can’t decide what actually disqualifies someone when I can follow a tried-and-true racing series dating back to the 50’s? I had a few friends who tried the “going pro” thing and found out just how much of a money-sink that is. I also spent quite a bit of time with Drift Union, the undisputed grassroots drifting kings in 2012. That year, All-Star Bash was one of the most fun weeks of my life. I liked drifting and the culture surrounding it, but it seemed to be getting a little stagnant. At least in the USA. I mean, yeah, you could argue that there was good drifting and there were good scenes everywhere – that I just wasn’t a part of. But for me, at the time, drifting was on a downward slope. Sidebar: for a lot of this, “drifting” can be used as a placeholder for Japanese import car culture as a whole. The whole “stance” thing has taken off and people are putting together cars that defy any conventional means of drivability in order to build a strong Instagram following. I could go on for hours about all the problems I have with that, but this article is about Final Bout and drifting. Drifting was something you got into by throwing money at a V8 S-chassis and trying to go pro in your local series. It felt soulless. Maybe for me it always had been, and the luster had gone dull by this point.

Regardless, in April of 2014 when I attended FD Long Beach, I didn’t watch a single car run the track. I couldn’t tell you who won or what the best battle was. I could tell you that the people I was hanging out with made that weekend more fun than the cars ever could have. FD had lost its spark. Seeing as how most of my exposure to drifting at this point was FD-related in some way or another, drifting was beginning to lose its spark. Soon after that event, I heard through the internet grapevine that a “Final Bout” was taking place in The Middle of Fucking Nowhere, Wisconsin that summer. USAIR sounded familiar. Oh right, that’s where my friends in the Hotboyz drove last year. They apparently had a great time, but I still only knew Risky Devil as that “one corner at a time” street drift team from the videos. Prior to 2014, I’d only ever spent a grand total of 10 hours in Chicago and hated it. It was unlikely I’d be making it to this “Final Bout.” 

Fast forward a few weeks and my friend Matt Panic (of Final Bout team ShaDynasty) was telling me how he’d got himself signed up and was putting a team together just for the event. Now, Matt has been drifting longer than anyone I know and tends to not buy into current internet hype. What did Matt see in this event? Did he know something I didn’t? I didn’t get it. But then I started to. Teams I knew of from all over started announcing their intentions to make the pilgrimage to Shawano, WI. Animal Style was going to drive from California? Gold Star too? Hotboyz were driving out again? Who the hell was Proceed? I’d seen that blue FD before somewhere… You get my point. The caliber of the cars making the commitment was setting a rather high bar. Maybe this was something I should check out. Talked to ol’ Benoit, and next thing I knew tickets were purchased and I was on the plane to Chicago, IL.

Upon arrival, I was immediately greeted by a sea of smiles and hi-fives. Maybe being introduced as a friend of the Hotboyz had something to do with it, but the welcome I received in Chicago was one of the warmest I’d ever had. So after a few nights of sleep on someone who I’d never met before’s couch, we drove out to Shawano for the supposed “Final Bout.”

Expectations obliterated. All of those amazing cars I’d seen all over the internet in one place? Mind-boggling. And more of that kept happening. I’d get introduced to someone and immediately see myself becoming real great friends with them. The next two days of driving were unreal, and I took what were, in my eyes, the best photos I’d ever taken. It also helps that the subjects were absolutely incredible.

That’s when it happened. All the hype, all the build up – it all exploded onto the internet in a very loud way. Naysayers proved wrong. Fanboys satisfied. Final Bout delivered in grand fashion. Cars that looked good AND were piloted by people with talent? IMPOSSIBLE. Yet there was proof: a few hundred spectators posting all weekend, and the obvious floodgates opening with proper media coverage in the weeks afterward. It was the most attention any set of photos I’ve taken has ever received. Countless people were asking me how the event was at every turn. People who, before the event, told me how I’d miss all the real driving at PARC Fest, were now telling me how jealous they were that I got to see the Bout firsthand. And that’s no slight at PARC Fest or PARC itself; I absolutely love that track and I love going to events there. It’s got an incredibly down to earth, DIY vibe to it. But the aura of Final Bout was a different creature entirely. The fact that half the “competition” was a car show was mind-boggling. People who actually cared about how their cars looked while driving them was relatively new to me. I’d known a few people before, but overall my experience with drifters was they drove the car hard and the appearance factor came second. All the drivers at Final Bout valued both equally. I’d never seen a bottle of quick detail at a drift event until Final Bout.

Final Bout revitalized grassroots drifting in America. Not to say that it had died, it just existed exclusively in its little pockets across the continent. Final Bout brought all these pockets together and put them on display for the world to see. You can ask anyone at any drift event nowadays about Final Bout, and they know what you’re talking about. It gave people new reasons to put cars together. New ideals to strive for. It made people realize that putting a huge amount of effort into a car and your ability behind the wheel of said car was worth more than just going pro. And these guys are getting tire sponsors without running a series or earning any points! There was more to it than winning a championship.

This brings me to my biggest misunderstanding about Final Bout: the importance placed on looking good seemed to give off the impression that everyone driving it was a bunch of pretenders and wannabes with cars that just looked the part. A lackluster DVD and the nit-picky nature of the internet didn’t help. “Well, of course Animal Style killed it, but I heard half the Proceed cars didn’t even drive.” The problem with Final Bout is that USAIR doesn’t seat everyone on the internet and flights to Chicago in August aren’t free. So naturally, parts of the internet cried out that Final Bout was a fluke and they’d never be able to keep something like that going.

Wrong again, internet!

When I got to Chicago last Thursday, I hadn’t slept in 24 hours due to a wacky flight and I didn’t have my trusty Benoit with me. I almost forgot all the DODOlogic stickers at home and the airport RedBull cost me nearly $5. The future wasn’t looking too bright for ol’ Dyl-dawg. But a mere two hours after I exited the plane, Jack Connelly and I were on our way to Pequods – the deep-dish pizzeria that was 40% of the reason I came back this year. Crammed into a backroom were friends who erupted into cheers of excitement when Jack and I showed up. People I hadn’t seen since last year, or met at all, were excited that more Final Bout Friends had arrived. After introducing myself to the Blackmoon squad and catching up with Gold Star and Animal Style and the likes, Jack and I headed to Touge Factory to kill some time until our gracious host Mel was off work. This would be where I’d insert photos from the awesome tour and hospitality shown to us by the whole TF staff, if I had any. I’ll be honest, I dropped the ball on that one. Those guys are great, though. Open a new tab and buy some shit from www.tf-works.com right now. Back? Okay great, we’re just getting to the good part.

Arriving at the track Friday night, I didn’t quite know what to expect. Last year was amazing. I fell in love with Chicago and the people I met there. The event was amazing and I had high hopes it would be at least half as good this year. How were they going to repeat that, though? Last year was the “Final Bout.” I made my initial walk of the paddock and familiarized myself with the teams present. Who made it back? Who was new? I picked out some favorite cars to look for the next morning and made my way to the hotel for a restless night. Italian Grand Prix qualifying to watch and an early drivers meeting meant I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep, but there I was Saturday morning. Despite some disagreements on where to point, Simba, Phil, and Ilia welcomed everyone to Final Bout II. Competition would be run first thing, after some practice of course, in order to make the rest of the weekend and open track full of inter-team tandem and all the craziness that followed. 

I’ll be honest, Saturday was a bust for me. 97 degrees with 100% humidity was not something I’d ever dealt with, and by midday I needed an AC-induced coma. I watched AJ, Fish, and the Risky Devil crew absolutely CRUSH IT in the competition, but not much past that. Despite the overwhelming scene presented to me, I had to take myself away to get myself some sleep, food and proper cooling off. This, of course, meant I missed opportunities to photograph a lot of cars that I so badly wanted to get photos of. (I’m looking at you, Max. I let you down. The brown is good.)

That brings us to Sunday. Sunday was amazing. I slept through the Italian Grand Prix, but I started the morning with a frosty RedBull, an empty memory card and a determination to capitalize on all the great driving that was bound to take place. Blah, blah, blah, I know. Recaps are boring. Some cars did some skids. I took some pictures and went for some rides. It was cool and you weren’t there to see it yourself. Go next year.

When it was all over, I was assigned “drive back to Chicago” duties and it gave me some time to think about what I’d just witnessed. Final Bout set an incredibly high bar, yet Final Bout II still seemed to shatter what I thought I’d known about it. Last year was all about the cool internet car overload. In 2015, I learned that this community of people is something I’ll have for a long time coming. It’s the one opportunity a year I get to see a lot of these people and I don’t plan on ever passing that up. I’ve never been to an event before where afterward the drivers talk about how they’re honestly kind of upset that they spent so much time driving they didn’t get to hang out with everyone there. Obviously the driving is what everyone came for, but the camaraderie I witnessed was unlike any other. Bonds of friendship built across state and country lines over piles of metal, rubber and fibreglass. Brothers born in bits of obliterated taillight.

All of a sudden, it hit me like a ton of bricks. This is what it’s all about. This is where the soul is. This is why calling this whole thing a “sport” feels weird. Yeah, there was a competition, but that’s not why ANYONE is here. Everyone is here to drive side-by-side-by-side-by-side with friends from all over the continent. People drove across the entire country just to end up smashing their shit up and high-five about it afterward. An international summit of great-looking cars with plenty of talent behind the wheel. The tandem trains, shiny wheels and Longhorn hijinks will make it onto the internet, but something that never will is the overwhelming friendship aura that surrounds and smothers every waking moment of this event. That’s something you have to see to believe.

Final Bout 2015 has solidified the event’s existence. It proved that the passion and dedication poured into it by anyone and everyone involved was worth it. I wish I cared about anything as much as these guys care about drifting. Final Bout wasn’t supposed to compete with anything else or replace anything. It now stands on its own as something unlike anything that had ever happened in North America. Final Bout has started a continent-wide shift on how people look at drifting from inside and out. Drifting in North America is going to look drastically different in the next few years and Final Bout is the reason. This event united a group of people from all over North America with one common interest and brought them together to share something unique. Drivers who would have never met each other were comparing door dents. I was in the middle of the track discussing weather patterns and shooting locations with two guys from Chicago. Fans in the crowd were comparing distances traveled just to be sitting where they are. I’ve never witnessed anything like it before.

Sure, some west coast tracks have higher entry speeds and there might be nuttier tandem trains going down on the east coast, but the unification of all of the best things about drifting in North America being brought together onto one grid is what makes Final Bout so important. The people behind this event only have the best intentions in mind. It’s not a competition for “best 2-day drift event” for them. For the staff behind Final Bout, it’s about putting together an event that is greater than the sum of its parts. Bringing everyone together for the sole purpose of enjoying these cars that got them into this whole thing in the first place. They want to take the best parts of that thing and create something everyone can enjoy, together. They’re making a mark on history and having a damn good time doing it.

Before I go, I’d like to thank the staff at ClubFR, the guys from Proceed, and everyone involved in putting this event together. Everyone who spared a cold water bottle. Everyone I shared a laugh with. Everyone who welcomed me into the community and made me feel a part of it. I could spend the next two pages namedropping everyone I met or hung out with last weekend who made the trip out east worth it. I appreciate every single one of you more than you know and I can’t wait to see you next year, if not sooner.

In closing, I’ll be honest and admit that sometimes I hate the name Final Bout. If only because it sounds too true to name – too “Final.” I hope there’s never a truly “Final” Bout. I hope that in 10 years I’m still writing here on DODOlogic to tell you how “sick nasty” the electric spaceship hover-drifting competition was from “Final Bout XII: ULTRA Edition.” What I really mean is I just hope that I get to spend a weekend in “Shaw-no,” laughing and bullshitting with my worldwide drift family for years to come.