Dirt
TRIBUTE
Shawn
Gann
[ 1978-2020 ]
By Brandon W. Mudd
I
met Shawn Gann in the spring of 2008.
I was the PR director at what was then
Gateway International Raceway and was
about to work my first NHRA national
event. Over the course of Race Week, any number
of people will come through your office for
any number of reasons (usually tickets). One of
those people strolling into my office that week
was Shawn.
Mind you, we had never
met, but he went through my
diecast collection, my photos,
and anything else shiny
enough to attract his interest,
chatting like we’d known each
other since childhood. He never
stopped talking. He asked questions
about the most random
topics. He offered his services
to the track for anything we
would need, like Top Eliminator
Club appearances or autograph
sessions.
Of course, he asked for tickets.
Over the years, I got to know
Shawn pretty well, at one point
doing PR for his Pro Stock Motorcycle
team and helping him
set up interviews with local media. As a media
person myself, I discovered early putting Shawn
in front of a live mic had mixed results. He was
never afraid to speak his mind, but with that came
the fact no one, not even Shawn, had any idea
what he would say at any given time. Whereas
most people have a thought, ponder it, and then
decide whether or not to voice it into existence,
Shawn was never bothered by that process. If he
had a thought, he said it. Period.
Some question their place in the world, insecure
about themselves and their abilities. Shawn
never struggled with that, either. I’ve seen him
mingle with the biggest nitro racers on the planet
and it never occurred to him for a second he didn’t
belong in that crowd. It wasn’t arrogance, but a
supreme belief in his abilities and his bike.
There was no middle ground when it came to
Shawn. You either adored him or he had said or
done something to piss you off and you weren’t
a fan. At all. He absolutely didn’t care. It was all
the same to him. We’d be at the track and he’d
point to people he’d had beef with. Sometimes, it
was their fault; sometimes, his. Either way, love
him or hate him, he seemed to exist with a smile
on his face and a tale to tell.
Shawn had his demons. His life wasn’t easy,
often due to his own decisions. I’ve heard stories.
I’ve seen things myself when I worked with him.
He did things that were hard to support and said
things that were hard to agree with. But at his
core, Shawn just wanted to be around people.
He wanted to tell stories, he wanted to play guitar
(which he did amazingly), he wanted to race
and go fast.
Now, we’re talking about him in the past tense,
gone at the age of 42. I don’t know his reasons and
I’m not going to speculate. That’s not my place.
My place is to pray for those who have been left
behind, to remember him at his best.
I hope wherever you are, Shawn, you’re at rest
and you’ve found peace.
Godspeed, brother. DI
PHOTOS: NHRA / NATIONAL DRAGSTER, BRANDON W. MUDD
32 | Drag Illustrated | DragIllustrated.com Issue 157