Johnson may be the sport's most impressive discovery

HOMESTEAD, Fla. -- Chandra Johnson sat in her seat atop the No. 48 pit box, rocking back and forth as her husband circled the racetrack. Chad Knaus hunched over his computer, his crew chief's eyes glued to the red numbers rolling across the monitor. Stevie Reeves warned of cars ahead from his perch atop the spotter's stand, the information relayed in the same businesslike tone he'd used all night. With fewer than 10 laps remaining, it was safe enough to engrave Jimmie Johnson's name on a second consecutive Nextel Cup. But no one in command central was celebrating.

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Down below, momentum was gathering. The wives and girlfriends of team members traded smiles and hugs. Men wearing starched, white Hendrick shirts exchanged handshakes. Knaus coolly counted down the final few laps to Johnson, and in the end as his driver screamed over the radio, the crew chief simply stood and gave his men a thumbs up. Suddenly there was an explosion of congratulation -- a parade of crew chiefs clambering to the top of the pit box ladder, series director John Darby speaking up over the radio, beaming friends and family members posing for photos. Everybody, owner Rick Hendrick included, climbed over the waist-high pit wall to get to the fronstretch stage where the series trophy would be presented.

People in NASCAR are getting accustomed to the scene, glowing men and women in No. 48 hats, that monstrous blue and silver Chevrolet spewing smoke during yet another burnout. Johnson's second consecutive championship in NASCAR's premier series was never in danger at Homestead-Miami Speedway, on a Sunday night where his lead over teammate Jeff Gordon never dipped below 41 points. An early two-tire stop by the No. 24 team, a desperate and ultimately futile attempt to gain some separation, was the only thing that passed for drama. The rest was a coronation, and the continuation of a remarkable progression that in six short years has seen Johnson evolve from unknown to legend.

Has there ever been, in the modern history of NASCAR, a more shocking transformation? Tony Stewart was champion of a major open-wheel series, Gordon an ESPN staple as a teenaged sprint-car racer, Matt Kenseth and Kurt Busch winners on the support series that feed NASCAR's big show. Bobby and Terry Labonte, Dale Jarrett, Alan Kulwicki, Dale Earnhardt -- they all came up as known entities, breaking through the way it was supposed to be done, getting in Late Models and gradually climbing the ladder to bigger teams and better cars. And then there's Johnson, a startling bolt of the blue, this driver no one had really heard of until he landed a Busch ride, a 32-year-old who's been a title contender since his first day in Nextel Cup and may dominate this decade like Gordon did the last one.

Years from now, when Johnson is editing his speech for his induction into the NASCAR Hall of Fame, when he has enough championship rings to fill a full hand, it may go down as the most impressive discovery of racing talent ever in NASCAR. Here's this kid who came from the far outer edges of the sport's radar screen, who raced stadium trucks -- stadium trucks! -- to make his name, whose raw results once he got into stock cars never really blew anybody away, but whose awesome ability blossomed because he made the right connections and impressed car co-owners Gordon and Hendrick at the perfect point in time. Now this driver, who used to sleep on top of his off-road car during desert races so the scorpions wouldn't bite him, has become the standard all others are measured by.

Welcome to the Jimmie Johnson Era, one that arrived completely unexpected. "I just don't see anything that's going to slow Jimmie down," Hendrick said. "He gets better every time he gets in the car." (Continued)