Sport's media star shines in media capital of world (cont'd)

"They're not going to know enough about NASCAR ... if they can't really touch it and feel it," he said. "It's hard to talk people into going to Dover or Pocono or New Hampshire. If you can't drive through the tunnel or across the bridge to get to it, they're probably not going to go."

Now, it's time to go to Regis and Kelly. Gordon walks past camera-toting star-watchers who have been camped out in lawn chairs, and enters a small green room crowded with the NASCAR entourage. Daughtry, the band which performed prior to the previous week's race at Richmond, is also booked on the show, and the members seem none to pleased to have their green room overrun. The drivers are kept waiting for what seems an eternity before they're ushered out for a sometimes awkward interview that features a few wince-inducing attempts at humor. Afterward, the drivers are asked to throw pies at a trash can and walk a fake red carpet for a taped segment. The show won't even air until October.

The whole thing comes across as juvenile, something you can't imagine Regis and Kelly ever asking Tom Brady or Derek Jeter to do. But Gordon does it, with no complaint. You begin to wonder: What does it take to tick this guy off? Referring to NASCAR as "the NASCAR," for one. Or asking a Busch Series driver, "When will you get to NASCAR?" a query a younger Gordon faced a few times himself. Even the Top 12 on Letterman, he believes, could have been better -- he would have rather seen one or two drivers give an interview on the host's couch.

The conversation in the SUV is interrupted as the vehicle rolls through a construction zone. "Hey! Hey! Is that Jeff?" yells a burly man in a sleeveless shirt and a hard hat, who's evidently spotted the No. 24 flag. "Hey, Jeff! See that guy over there?" he says, pointing to a co-worker across the street. "He's a NASCAR guy!" Gordon orders the Navigator to stop long enough for the driver to roll down the window and shake a few hands. "Build it well," he tells them. "Construction workers always know you," he says later, the window rolled back up, "regardless of what state you're in."

It's a precursor of events to come. The day's next event is its biggest, a media smorgasbord at the ESPN Zone featuring all 12 drivers. It's in the middle of Times Square, a place where Gordon can't walk 10 feet without being asked to sign an autograph or have a photograph taken. The driver is ushered in VIP-style, though the back door and the kitchen, like the scene in Goodfellas. Everything becomes a blur -- another ESPN Radio interview, two minutes with local radio, satellite interviews with media at Texas Motor Speedway and Homestead-Miami Speedway. He has only a few minutes to inhale a quick lunch before he's ushered upstairs to a question-and-answer session with fans, some of whom have brought gifts for his new baby.

Off to a suite area to sign photos of all the Chase drivers. Back downstairs for a few local television spots and another brief meeting with writers. He's asked almost identical questions -- about the Chase, about losing his big regular-season lead, about Earnhardt Jr. -- over and over. The sameness becomes numbing, but Gordon doesn't flinch. "When you're passionate about what you do, you don't mind answering the same questions," he says in the elevator, in transit from one appearance to another. "But it is nice to get an off-the-wall one every now and then."

Then it's out the door, back to the black SUV, and off to a meeting with executives of The Associated Press at the wire service's New York headquarters. There's another round scheduled the next day at New Hampshire International Speedway, where the top 12 drivers in points give open interview sessions mandated by NASCAR. He has to be tired, wrung out, and ready to see his wife and baby before he leaves for that weekend's race. But he never complains. He never does.