As championships add up, so does Johnson's clout

It was meant to be a moment of levity at an otherwise serious event. Near the end of the championship contenders news conference prior to the Sprint Cup finale at Homestead-Miami Speedway, a local high-school student -- we have very loose standards here on the NASCAR media corps -- asked Jimmie Johnson and Carl Edwards what goes through their minds right before a race. Find a bathroom, both immediately responded. Then the soon-to-be three-time champion launched into a more detailed answer that exposed something of a pet peeve.

"How did all these people get credentialed to be down here on the grid right now?" he said, referring to the dozens of guests, family members, photographers and hangers-on that mill around the racecars right up until engines are started. "Get away, let me get in the car and do my job. Then finally the national anthem is over, and I get in the car, and I'm like, 'Whew, put the net up so they can't take pictures, either.' And then you go to work."

Wait -- this is Jimmie Johnson? This is the guy who gets ripped for sounding too businesslike and too politically correct, for not showing enough emotion? Evidently so. He may always come across cool and poker-faced, but as a three-time champion Johnson carries an enormous amount of clout in the garage area. Perhaps now, now that the titles have been won and his place in NASCAR history is secured regardless of what happens in the future, will he be a little less reticent to use it?

That might be pushing things a bit too far. After all, Johnson is who he is, and has achieved all that he has achieved, precisely because he's always been able to seem above the fray. Sure, he gives opinions when asked for them, and at times -- like when he stated his opposition to NASCAR's testing ban -- they have a little bite to them. But this is a driver whose mentor, Jeff Gordon, advised him early on to avoid controversy, because controversy can get in the way of performance. Johnson heeded that advice, and used it to construct an era of dominance not seen in the sport for 30 years.

So it's not like the guy is going to turn into Tony Stewart overnight. Still, there are times when it seems there's a more opinionated, more uncensored Johnson, perhaps emboldened by all the success he's enjoyed throughout the last three seasons, just clamoring to come out. Like the frustration he showed with competitors in the back of the pack during the Homestead race, where a poor qualifying effort forced him to start in 30th place. Let's just say that the drivers he was around for most of the night weren't exactly the championship-caliber kind to which he was accustomed.

"There are guys out there that continue to drive like idiots week after week, and are in the way and cause wrecks and cause problems every single week," Johnson said after securing the title with a 15th-place finish. "You think in the course of what's going on ... that people would show some respect, and they don't. I guess it's my fault for expecting them to show respect. And sure enough, as the night went on, the guys that I'm having trouble with, the right sides are knocked off the car and they're laps down. So I guess it's my fault for expecting something more out of some of these guys. I was mad at different points. I cannot believe how stupid some of these guys can be out there. It just shocks me."

OK, so maybe that's getting into Stewart territory. Granted, those statements pack such force because Johnson rarely says anything so inflammatory; if he were spouting off about idiots every week, his claims would have a lot less punch. As a three-time champion, he can afford to pick his spots. But his three titles would also allow him to wield a bigger stick, should he so choose. Here's a guy with unrivaled on-track success, who is right up there with Jeff Burton in terms of the respect afforded him, who has shown that he can exercise restraint and judgment and still get his points across at the same time.

That's a rare combination, one that could make Johnson an effective policy voice in the garage. But then again, speaking out more regularly raises the specter of distraction. And Johnson doesn't do distraction.

"It's not a role I'm eager to take on, to be honest with you," he said. "I do know that in the right setting, if I talked to [NASCAR president] Mike [Helton] or talked to [series director John] Darby, as you win championships, and more than anything as you're around the sport long enough, and people know that you're coming to them from a non-biased position, that your voice will be heard. I look more at that than I do championship rankings and having more clout from that point."

When Lance Armstrong was winning the Tour de France year after year, the other riders in the event had a name for him -- the patron. The literal translation is protector or benefactor, but in the race, it meant something else altogether. It meant boss. It meant that Armstrong was the dominant rider, and because of his ability and accomplishments he set the tone for the remainder of the field. He settled arguments, he dispensed justice, he kept the peace throughout the course of the three-week event. Nobody messed with the patron. Like it or not, Jimmie Johnson is in a similar position today on the Sprint Cup tour.

How far he wants to take that is, of course, up to him. But if Johnson's recent statements about driving idiots and starting-grid gridlock are any indication, there's a more critical, more outspoken patron in there somewhere behind that businesslike facade. The more he wins, the more comfortable he becomes with his position, the better the chance that it eventually comes out.

The opinions expressed are solely of the writer.