Winning, not entertaining, is always the primary goal

What else does he need to do?

Does he have to climb out of his racecar and break into a little soft shoe, a-shim-shamming down pit road? Does he have to grab a microphone and launch into a comedic routine? Does he have to pull doves, puppies, and 1/24 scale die-cast cars from a magic hat? Does he have to greet the first driver to congratulate him with a spinning cobra clutch, and a pile driver into the concrete?

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Evidently. Because these days, being a classy champion and representing your sport in the best possible manner just aren't good enough anymore. Jimmie Johnson needs a shtick. An outrageous wardrobe. An infamous temper. A folksy accent. A checkered back story. Dominate NASCAR like no one has done in a decade? Yawn. Rack up victory after victory? So passé. Set a model example for behavior on and off the racetrack? Please. Wake me when Michael Waltrip says something funny, or Tony Stewart and Kurt Busch come to blows.

Pure performance, it seems, just doesn't do it anymore. Today, it's all about showbiz, about Budweiser Shootout qualifying draws turned into ridiculous made-for-TV spectacles, about race broadcasts where you have to wade through C-list acts like Sister Hazel to get to the racing, about loosening up codes of conduct so drivers can fight and cuss and do other things that would earn an NBA or NFL player a fine. Who needs substance, when so many ticket holders seem to crave only style?

Strange beast, this NASCAR. At so many levels there's this obsession with the show, as if the people watching are kittens who need shiny keys shaken in front of their faces to keep their attention. The irrefutable fact that down deep this is a sport, where the object is not necessarily to entertain but to determine who is best, seems to get lost among the flashing lights and fireworks and rule changes. No driver first slides behind a steering wheel with the goal of becoming an entertainer. He does it to win. If people are entertained as a result, all the better for it.

Not any more. Today, it seems no one appreciates performance for performance's sake. Watching people compete and win is not enough. Johnson is derided as boring for doing exactly what he's been trained to do, which is overpower opponents and win with numbing consistency. Tiger Woods does it in golf, and people are amazed and enthralled. Roger Federer does it in tennis, and people whisper to one another that they're witnessing history. Jimmie Johnson does it in NASCAR, and people wonder -- why can't he be funnier? Why can't he be more interesting?

Johnson hears it. And to his credit, he doesn't seem to care.

"I'll take the criticism of being vanilla to have the success," he said. "There are positives and negatives to everything. I guess when I go to the track, I put on my work face and go to work and take it seriously, but we all know I have plenty of fun as well. That broken wrist thing [last offseason] kind of showed everyone that I can be a jackass like the rest of them. The fact that I don't get out and say stupid things to the car -- haven't yet, but the potential is still there -- and push people around and stuff, it just hasn't been my deal. The circumstances haven't been there yet. I'm just going to continue to do what I know, and not worry about the outside things."

Go ahead, blame Jeff Gordon. Johnson's mentor and Hendrick Motorsports teammate told him early on that the more you stay clear of controversy, the better you perform. Understandable, given that the entire purpose of the sport from the driver's cockpit is to perform and win. The whole reason crewmen spend six-day weeks building racecars is to perform and win. The solitary goal of every team owner is to perform and win. Ken Schrader, Richard Childress, the jack man on the No. 66 car, the hauler driver at Gillett-Evernham Motorsports, the guy assembling exhaust systems at Roush Fenway Racing, the rank-and-file men and women on every race team -- if you think they're in this deal to entertain people, you're fooling yourself.

In 1989, Siena and Boston University played a basketball tournament championship game, a contest with an NCAA bid at stake, in an empty Hartford Civic Center. A measles outbreak had forced a quarantine, and the teams dueled before thousands of vacant seats. In a small way, it served as a reminder that even if no one is watching, the games still go on. Of course, sports leagues and sanctioning bodies need television viewers and ticket holders to succeed and thrive. But stripped down to their essence, the games and matches and races are there to determine who is best. Everything else is secondary.

That can be difficult to see in today's NASCAR, through the overload of pomp and circumstance on every race day, with the rule changes and format tweaks designed to tighten competition, amid the fans who allow the superficial to determine their allegiance. Maybe one day, that blurred line between entertainment and sport will clear. And maybe one day people will look back at all Johnson has achieved, and realize what they missed.

The opinions expressed are solely of the writer.