He's now known as "Superman," due to his metaphoric ability to "leap tall buildings in a single bound," consistently save the day, fly around a race track, and do inhuman things without appearing to break a sweat -- such as winning an unprecedented four consecutive Cup Series championships during the most competitive era in the sport's history.

But "Superman" as a moniker for Jimmie Johnson misses the mark. Nicknames should be fresh and original, not re-treads. There's only one Superman, just as there's a single Batman and one Spider-Man.

And Superman had kryptonite. There doesn't appear to be any chemical, human or force of nature likely to stop Johnson and the No. 48 team. Sure, he claims, "I have my insecurities; it's not like I show up in the car and am indestructible each week." But everyone knows those kind of quotes are offered to placate a hotly competitive field increasingly embarrassed at being dominated.

As part of his New York media swing on Tuesday, Johnson stopped at the Empire State Building, which he helped light with his team colors. If NASCAR's champ really is Superman in a fire suit, he wouldn't have taken four sets of elevators to the 103rd floor, where they used to dock the blimps.

Yes, NASCAR Nation needs a new nickname for Johnson.

He's ultra cool in the clutch and has been (unfairly) derided by the press as lacking personality.

With those ingredients, what about "Vanilla Ice"?

Unbeknownst to detractors, Johnson has a terrific sense of humor. When NYC proclaimed Tuesday as Jimmie Johnson Day -- an honor generally reserved for dead white guys -- Johnson decreed everyone get the day off ... to drink margaritas. He'd probably laugh at the Vanilla Ice name and make a T-shirt for his friend Nick Lachey to wear in Victory Lane. But that nickname is taken, too. And Vanilla Ice only conjures up images of a bad haircut and worse lip syncing.

Searching for Johnson's new nickname, I'd be lying in not admitting "Invisible Man" crossed my mind. Jimmie Johnson is Lance Armstrong plus Tom Brady multiplied by Tiger Woods. He's a one man dynasty millions have yet to hear about.

He's never graced the cover of Time, sat with kids from his foundation on Oprah, or been profiled by a fawning Steve Kroft on 60 Minutes. Just when a NASCAR driver absolutely deserves it, Sports Illustrated will probably give Sportsman of the Year to a horse.

Johnson deserves national attention, buckets of accolades and a fitting new nickname, like "Mr. October," given to Reggie Jackson for dominating the World Series.

If Reggie was Mr. October, well, then Johnson deserves naming rights to the entire season when leaves turn and fall and Hall of Fame athletes dig deeper, find greatness and make history.

He is surely "Mr. Autumn" -- the only driver to make all six Chases and the only one to win four races during the 10-race Chase (in 2004, 2007 and 2009). And get this: In the 60 Chase races since 2004, Johnson has a series-high 18 wins -- for a winning percentage of 30 percent.

There are 43 cars out there, and his winning percentage is 30 percent? If you were a teen-age girl or pretending to be one, you'd say: "Shut up!"

That's the rare brand of athletic spank-the-field domination under consideration here. Jimmie is very good at winning during the regular season, and he doubles that performance when it counts the most. (You could call him "Mr. Clutch," but in our sport that feels like "Mr. Brakepad.") Winning 30 percent of the Chase races is the equivalent of Derek Jeter hitting .600, lifetime, in baseball's playoffs.

For that, Jeter would be on the cover of GQ. Oh, wait, that's happened. Twice. So why isn't Mr. Autumn, who the ladies say doesn't look bad in a suit, not a GQ cover boy?

The problem is the nickname. He needs the right one, and we're not there yet. "Mr. Autumn" lacks superhero ballast and braggadocio. Mr. Autumn sounds like the doughy guy teaching high school English in an ill-fitting cardigan.

Since Jimmie owns his sport after Labor Day, how about this one: "The Fall Guy"?

At least on Halloween, his lovely wife Chandra could go as Heather Thomas without having to dye her already-blonde hair.

Put The Fall Guy on the list. But I'm not completely sold.

Jimmie has only had one nickname, when he ran off-road racing in Mexico with a penchant for getting airborne. "The locals called me, 'The Eagle,' " he said, while descending a steep set of stairs at the very top of the Empire State Building under the antenna. " 'The Eagle' never stuck, and I'm kinda glad."

Perhaps NASCAR fans in New York toasting the No. 48 team with a margarita and gazing at the blue, white and yellow Empire State Building will come up with better ideas.

The place where the new nickname could possibly hatch is at Foley's New York Pub and Restaurant, across the street on 33rd. It's the joint where a year ago Johnson treated the entire bar to a frosty pint to celebrate three in a row.

Today, Foley's honors the No. 48 team's record-breaking fourth consecutive title with specials such as 4 Alarm Jimmie Johnson Chili for four bucks and 4.84 oz. Jimmie burgers for $4.84. A portion of proceeds go to the Victory Junction Gang Camp.

I've gone to Proprietor Shaun Clancy, who knows a thing or two about PR after banning the song Danny Boy in his Irish bar, for help with Johnson's nickname problem. Shaun is asking his customers to come up with a real doozy that fits and sticks and helps The Fall Guy (or whatever you call him) get on Oprah, just like Lance.

Shaun is like the Green Lantern on these sort of projects, a real superhero in a barman's apron that's rumored to double as a cape. There is progress in the wind.

Andrew Giangola's book "The Weekend Starts on Wednesday: True Story of Remarkable NASCAR Fans" (Motorbooks, 2010) is available for pre-order in the NASCAR.COM Superstore.

Related:
• Johnson changes colors of Empire State Building