“From the Pocket to a Rocket”

**The Legacy Series presented by:**
**The Legacy Place**

The Legacy Place

The engine is screaming. Dirt is flying. And sitting in line for his first heat race ever, strapped into a B-Mod for the first time in his life, Jacksyn Thornton isn't thinking about speed.

He's shaking.

Not from fear of crashing. Not from the unknown.

Just the moment.

"That was probably the scariest moment of my life," Thornton said.

Lisbon, North Dakota. Last year’s Memorial Day weekend. After two years of grinding tires, hauling parts, and traveling the North Dakota tour as a pit kid for Randy Klein Motorsports — the seat finally belonged to him.

It didn't happen overnight. Nothing in Jacksyn Thornton's story ever has.

Built in the Work

At 16, Jacksyn wasn't a driver. He was the kid doing everything nobody else wanted to do.

Grinding tires. Cutting them. Loading parts. Traveling the circuit — Jamestown, Williston, Red River wherever the next race took them. Learning setups. Watching. Asking questions. Staying late.

"I just like getting my hands dirty," he said.

That tracks. He's the kind of kid who'd rather have a wrench in his hand than a remote.

He said he wanted his own car at 16. He voiced, “I’d say like right away. I wanted to, I wanted to own my own car, but as a 16 year old owning a race care is not, ya probably not the smarted decision, to do.” So Jacksyn kept showing up. Kept working. Kept learning the equipment from the inside out.

Last year, Randy finally gave him the seat. He earned it, now he is out to prove that he deserves it.

The B-Mod Grind

Jacksyn races B-Mods — dirt-track modified, 350 small block, four-barrel carburetor. He's running against drivers 18 to 45 years old. Being in the Top 10 pays back your entry fee, at most. First place pays around $350. Tenth pays $100.

"It's not really worth your time," he said. "It's a hobby."

A hobby that looks like this: shop until 10 p.m. Monday through Thursday. Fridays and Saturdays at the track. Grind tires. Cut tires. Bolt everything down. Check fuel. Load up. Unload. Heat race. Hope nothing breaks. If it does, fix it before the feature race.

He's done all the wrenching. He's done all the prep. Now he's in the seat.

Last year on the North Dakota tour, the team won four out of six nights. They were leading points heading into night five — won that one too — then got DQ'd over a tire offset. The kind of weekend that stings. Also the kind of weekend that means you were running with the lead dogs. That is currently his best memory.

The Team Behind the Car

Jacksyn is quick to say he doesn't get here alone. His mom and dad — "100% behind my back, through this deal." Randy Klein, for the equipment, the setup knowledge, and the seat itself.

And a sponsor list that runs deep for an 18-year-old:

City Side Collision. The Meat Wizards. RKM (Randy Klein Motorsports). Dykstra Farms. Reinke Farm. Differding Construction. On Demand Graphics. Differding Electric. Dead Headz Beauty Salon.

Small team. Big effort.

The Coach's Side of the Story

Here's where I have to be honest with you.

I'm not a neutral reporter on Jacksyn Thornton.

I coached him as a freshman, watched him from a distance during my two seasons at NDSU, and then came back as his head football coach for his senior season. So when I tell you who this kid is, I'm not guessing. I've watched him grow up.

And the 14-year-old I first coached is not the 18-year-old getting strapped into a B-Mod this May. Not even close.

The Freshman Who Couldn't Walk and Chew Gum

I'll be straight. As a freshman, I wasn't sure Jacksyn could walk and chew gum at the same time. I often joked with him this past fall about that. Let alone play quarterback. Footwork was rough. High-knee crossovers looked like a fight with gravity. Step-over bags were an adventure. He'd throw a ball in the dirt and his feet would tangle up trying to get out of his own way.

He sat behind Gavin Gerhardt and Bryson Heck for three years. Three years is a long time to wait when you've already decided you're going to be the guy.

While I was gone in Fargo, Jacksyn was in the weight room. He was on the field. He was working on his release, his command, his voice. I didn't see the day-to-day. I saw the result the moment I came back as head coach.

Practice one or two of summer ball, he made a sideline throw against a Cover 2 hole shot that made me sit up. Clean release. Right read. On time.

Okay, I thought. We've got a quarterback.

One Game. One Hit. One Senior Season Gone.

Week 1. August 22 at the Velva Aggies — defending state champions — opening our schedule. His first game as a starter. My first as a head coach.

We never blinked. We lost 14-0, but Jacksyn played composed. Not flashy. Solid. He led the huddle. He stared down a defending champ's pass rush and never wavered. He kept his guys steady in a new era under a new coach. We played tough and physical, the team had the pieces and belief that I wanted the Hi-Liners to look like.

Then on the second-to-last play of the game, he took a sack and didn't get up. Shoulder pads knocked outside his jersey. Tears in his eyes as he struggled to walk back to the sideline.

He looked at me and said, "I'm sorry."

I looked back at him and said, "Why are you sorry? We battled our ass off against the state champs."

When our athletic trainer told us it was a broken collarbone — season over — that hit our entire program. Three years of waiting, gone in one snap.

For most kids, that's where the story shifts. Frustration. Distance. Disengagement.

That wasn't Jacksyn.

He Never Left

Every practice. Every meeting. Every game. He coached his teammates from the sideline. After the season, he earned our Hi-Liner Pride Award — given to the young man who best represents what we want our players to be, both on the field, in the community and a true example of a Hi-Liner.

And he did something I never asked him to do.

Midway through the season, Jacksyn and the other seniors set a standard: every player would watch a minimum of 30 minutes of Hudl film before each game. Hudl tracks it. There was no hiding. The seniors decided the consequences for guys who didn't get it done.

He held kids accountable to a habit he couldn't even cash in on as a player anymore.

He kept watching film himself, too — even though his body was done for the year. And don't let him tell you otherwise. He tried to talk both me and Tabitha, our trainer, into letting him play the last couple weeks of the season.

That's leadership. Not the speech kind. The behavior kind. The kind you can't teach. He was the quarterback, still.

What Most People Get Wrong

If you watched Jacksyn race once and didn't know him, you might assume he is a quiet kid maybe isn't a competitor.

That would be a mistake.

Jacksyn doesn't talk smack. He doesn't run his mouth. But that kid will kick you in the teeth and keep coming if you give him the opportunity. He is a competitor. He stared down a defending state champion's pass rush all night and never blinked once. Not until his collarbone gave out.

Three words for him: Tough. Genuine. Earned.

Where the Pressure Actually Lives

I asked him, what was more stressful — racing a 350-horsepower car at full throttle on a dirt oval, or starting at quarterback Week 1.

He didn't hesitate.

"100% starter Week 1."

Why?

"In racing, your mistakes are yours. In football, you've got teammates depending on you. As the quarterback, you're leading. That's different."

That answer tells you everything. Jacksyn isn't afraid of the car. He's afraid of letting people down.

There's a difference. And it matters.

What I'll Be Watching For

After graduation, Jacksyn is going to work full-time at City Side Collision in Enderlin — Randy's body shop. He's not chasing a pro racing career. He sees the track as a hobby — one he wants to pass on to his kids someday.

His dad ran demolition derbies. Jacksyn races stock cars. Whatever Thornton comes next will probably have grease under their fingernails before they hit middle school.

I plan to be at a race or two this summer. I want to see him in his element.

Football didn't end the way Jacksyn or I wanted for him. But the kid I coached for one Friday night before that hit against Velva — same toughness, same grit, same refusal to blink — is the kid now getting strapped into a race car this May. He has just transitioned from the pocket to a rocket now.

The track is going to find that out fast. The kid I know as a true competitor, Jacksyn Thronton.

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