By Ben Deatherage
TABOR, S.D. (May 12, 2026) — In southeastern South Dakota, towns like Tabor don’t try to stand out.
They don’t have to.
They sit along open stretches of prairie and farmland, where the pace of life is steady and familiar, and where most people know exactly where they’re headed long before they leave the driveway.
On summer evenings, that direction often points toward a racetrack.
Not because it’s something new.
But because it’s always been there.
For Matt Rezac, it started the same way it does for a lot of people in places like this.
With a ride.
“I always kind of heard about it growing up,” he said. “Wagner Speedway was only about 45 minutes from me, but I never really thought anything of it.”
That changed the first time he went.
“One of my buddies I went to school with asked if I wanted to go with him and his grandpa,” he said. “We went to that, and that’s where I fell in love with it.”
He was around 10 or 12 years old.
It didn’t take long before watching wasn’t enough.
Where It Began
“I haven’t missed a race since,” Rezac said.
Before long, the question wasn’t if he would be at the track — but how he could get on it.
Rezac didn’t grow up in a racing family. There wasn’t a car waiting for him, no built-in path to follow.
So he created one.
“I had a job growing up, and one day I told my dad I was going to get a car,” he said.
Before that happened, he got a look at what it really took.
A local racer, Justin Schenkel, invited him to come along and see the full picture. Another friend, Johnny Kerby, also played a role, helping Rezac learn the ins and outs of racing and what it took to compete. Kerby still occasionally lends a hand when Matt has questions and spends time helping with the car whenever he can.
“He asked me to go with him so I could understand all the expenses and everything that goes into it,” Rezac said.
It didn’t change his mind.
“I didn’t care,” he said. “I wanted to race so bad.”
By 2020, he was racing regularly, getting whatever seat time he could.
That early stretch wasn’t just about learning how to drive — it was about building an identity.
Even the number on the car had meaning.
Rezac runs the no. 21R, a number that goes back to his days away from racing.
The “21” started as his old football number, but it was also a number he always liked growing up — the age where you finally felt grown up. The “R” came from his last name.
It all led to a moment he had been building toward for years.
“I was working in the field earlier that day,” he said. “Then we went to practice, and it didn’t really hit me until I climbed into the seat and thought, ‘oh my, this is real.’”
At first, it felt fast.
At least it seemed that way.
“I came back to the pits thinking I was moving,” he said. “Then I watched the video and realized I wasn’t moving at all.”
He laughed.
But the feeling stayed.
“It’s turned into an escape,” he said. “You’re almost in a daze out there. You have to remind yourself you’re racing.”
But the reality of racing set in just as quickly.
Learning the Hard Way
“My first year, I ran whatever I had,” Rezac said. “There were DNFs all the time, stuff breaking.”
It’s a familiar path for drivers getting started — long nights in the shop, short nights at the track, and learning through experience.
Over time, the setbacks turned into lessons.
When he upgraded equipment in 2023, the approach changed.
“I started going through everything during the week,” he said. “Making sure it was right.”
The results followed.
Rezac has remained in the Sunoco IMCA Hobby Stock division — a decision that fits both his schedule and his budget.
“I chose the class because it worked for me,” he said. “With the time I have, it suits me best.”
He raced weekly at Wagner Speedway from 2021 through 2024 and also made trips to Stuart Raceway in Nebraska.
“I almost had a points championship at Stuart my first year,” he said. “Missed it by just a few points.”
Back home at Wagner, there were chances too — but life sometimes took priority.
“When I started racing, I was still in high school playing football,” he said. “Championship night always lined up with our first game, so I couldn’t make it.”
Racing wasn’t going anywhere.
And neither was the place that shaped him.
A welcome sign greets visitors entering Tabor, South Dakota, a small southeastern South Dakota community known for its deep Czech heritage and annual Czech Days celebration. (Photo by Inforum.com)
From Tabor
Rezac’s story is rooted in more than just racing. It’s rooted in Tabor.
A small Czech community in southeastern South Dakota, Tabor sits among open prairie and working farmland, where the horizon stretches wide and the pace of life follows the land. Gravel roads connect farms that have been in families for generations, and evenings settle in with a quiet that carries across the countryside.
It’s a place built by people who came looking for something better.
Tabor was founded in 1872 by Czech immigrants who left what was then known as Bohemia in search of land, opportunity, and a new start on the prairie. They built a town centered on faith, family, and work — values that still define the community today.
That connection isn’t just part of the town’s history — it’s part of his own. The Rezac name traces back to those early Czech settlers, with roots in the region and a heritage tied to the community’s beginnings, often associated with the word “cutter” or someone who works with their hands.
That heritage hasn’t faded.
It’s carried forward in traditions that bring people back, no matter how far they’ve gone.
Each summer, Czech Days transforms Tabor into something much bigger than itself. What began decades ago as a small community celebration has grown into one of the longest-running Czech heritage festivals in the country. A town of just a few hundred residents fills with thousands of visitors, drawn by polka music, traditional foods, parades, and cultural performances.
Dancers take part in Beseda — a traditional Czech folk dance performed in coordinated formations — while others fill the streets and halls with polka, keeping the rhythm of generations alive.
“We have Czech Days, and it’s a big gathering,” Rezac said. “It really helps keep the town alive.”
For a few days, the streets fill.
The music carries.
Participants gather during Czech Days festivities in Tabor, South Dakota, one of the nation’s longest-running Czech heritage celebrations featuring traditional music, dancing, food, and cultural events. (Photo by TaborCzechDays.com)
Life Beyond the Track
When he’s not racing, Rezac stays close to the life he’s always known.
He farms and ranches cattle.
And he works with his hands.
“I like to tinker around,” he said. “Auto body work, painting older vehicles — I’m redoing my high school pickup right now.”
There’s time on the water, too — boating, spending time with friends, and stepping away from the pace of race nights.
It’s a balance that keeps everything moving.
None of it happens alone.
“These past couple of years, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the family farm — Rezac Farms — letting me put the time into racing,” Rezac said.
Support comes from family, friends, and local connections.
“My dad and uncle have a seed business, J and J Rezac Seed, and that’s a big one,” he said.
“Hovorka Trucking has also been there through it all since I started, and Travis and I have gotten really close the past few years.”
His girlfriend’s family has played a role as well, along with sponsors like Myers Sanitation and Powers Porta Pot Rental, where he works when he’s not busy on the family farm.
“And of course my mom and dad,” he said. “At first it was, ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ Then once I got into it, it turned into, ‘you’ve got to find time to get your car ready.’”
He smiled.
“And my girlfriend Reese, for letting me spend so much time racing, she’s my world and will do anything to support me.”
And it’s that support that keeps everything moving forward.
These days, Rezac has become a regular at Park Jefferson International Speedway, while also making trips across the Iowa border to Clay County Fair Speedway in Spencer when the opportunity is there.
It’s not about chasing something bigger.
It’s about continuing what started years ago.
A kid.
A ride to the races.
And a feeling that never left.
“It’s in my blood now,” Rezac said. “And I don’t see it leaving anytime soon.”