Alienated fans use Johnson as their NASCAR scapegoat

He could have walked in, done his latest dog-and-pony show in a week full of them, and walked out. He could have been irritable or distracted or impatient, ruing the fact that he was spending a cold, windy afternoon in New York rather than lounging by the beach in Cabo San Lucas or St. Kitts. He could have had his entourage run interference, ordering that he wasn't to be bothered, and declaring that he wouldn't be there for very long. In short, he could have acted like so many other professional athletes, whose aloofness and sense of entitlement presage their every step.

Instead, Jimmie Johnson bought everyone a beer.

Attending a champion's luncheon at an Irish bar as part of his Champions Week duties, Johnson bought everyone in the place -- writers, broadcasters, public relations reps, race fans who sneaked in the back, regular patrons who had no idea who he was -- a cold pint of Harp. No, he's not an everyman. An everyman doesn't marry a model, wear a velvet sports coat, and pick up a $7 million check every December. But goodness, the guy tries. When posing for a snapshot with one partygoer after the awards banquet, he asked the photographer to take another. Why? The driver had blinked. He may be rich, famous and successful, but deep down he's still the school bus driver's son.

It's not enough, of course. He's amazingly well-adjusted in a way that few pro athletes seem to be today, but it's not enough. He acts in public in a manner that anyone would want their brother or son to act, but it's not enough. Sure, he could be a little more outspoken sometimes, but for the most part he's a classy champion who understands his sport and his role in it. Still, it's not enough. There are plenty of people out there who haven't adapted easily to change, who hate the fact that Chevrolets don't look like Chevrolets anymore, or that Ken Squier isn't calling the races, or that North Wilkesboro couldn't keep up with the times. Those are the people who grumble loudest about the Chase and the new car and Auto Club Speedway. Those are the people who need a scapegoat, something that to them embodies everything they don't like about modern NASCAR.

And that something is Jimmie Johnson.

Because this all can't possibly be just about Johnson, who on his own merits is quite hard to dislike. Hate Jimmie? How? Unlike some of his contemporaries in the garage area, he's unfailingly polite, he's far from arrogant or conceited, and he drives clean. He knows how to conduct himself in front of a camera, he's held in tremendous respect among his peers, and his one great public embarrassment involves falling off a golf cart. Sure, he has a crew chief with a reputation for working the gray areas, but so did Jeff Gordon. We're talking about a guy who any racing series -- or any sports league, for that matter -- would be proud to have as its representative. (Continued)