It was not exactly how I had expected my Champion's Week experience to begin. Right on schedule, I drove my Chrysler LeBaron rental car onto Las Vegas Boulevard, ready to participate in the "Victory Lap" parade down the neon canyon known as the Strip. For the past few days I had been practicing burnouts, and though I hadn't quite mastered the tactic, I had been able to produce several plumes of smoke from underneath the hood. Good enough, I thought. I rolled up to the police barrier and told one of Metro PD's finest that I was ready to fall in line behind Carl Edwards.

"Are you a driver?" the officer asked.

"No," I replied. "I'm a writer."

He pointed in a different direction. "Then you'll have to get on the bus."

“

Try being the Chase's "other" champion, the winner of NASCAR's Chase Tracker competition, which comes with about as much glory as being the 12th man to walk on the moon.

”

DAVID CARAVIELLO

Which is how I found myself not spinning doughnuts in front of thousands of adoring fans, but riding behind the proceedings on an open-topped double-decker bus, freezing in the wind. I couldn't even see what was going on, what with feather-bedecked showgirl headdresses and Wayne Newton's magnificent coif of hair obscuring the view. So I sat in the back, in a cold metal seat, listening to the people cheering and the engines revving and the tires spinning. And I seethed. After all, what NASCAR champion deserves to be treated this way?

People say Jimmie Johnson doesn't get enough respect. Please. Try being the Chase's "other" champion, the winner of NASCAR's Chase Tracker competition, which comes with about as much glory as being the 12th man to walk on the moon (Harrison Schmitt, I know how you feel, big man). I should have known it would be this way after I clinched the title at Homestead-Miami Speedway, and I stood on top of my laptop with my arms held high in celebration, and was showered not in confetti but in quizzical looks from everyone else in the media center.

Where's the love here, people? I mean, Johnson earned $6 million and undying adulation for beating 11 other guys. Meanwhile, yours truly successfully subdued a Chase Tracker field of 88 participants. Johnson's competition involved "celebrities" -- and I use that term loosely -- like Jeff Gordon, Kasey Kahne and Juan Montoya. The real star power was in the Chase Tracker, where I outwitted luminaries like pro bowler Danny Wiseman, bull rider Matt Bohon, and U.S. Congressman Patrick McHenry (R-NC). Seriously, Bohon can get the best table at any restaurant in Cole Camp, Mo. And McHenry? Just trying walking down the streets of Gastonia sometime with that guy. It gets crazy.

OK, so maybe there were a few other celebrities involved in the Chase Tracker, where media types and Hollywood glitterati picked race winners and point standings for each playoff event. McHenry did the best, placing 14th overall. But none of them was a match for "One-Time," the new nickname I have bestowed upon myself. Chef Emeril Lagasse? Bam, you're done. Philadelphia Eagles placekicker David Akers? You've been booted. Rock band OAR? You're DOA. Classic rock group Foreigner? It's a blue morning, blue day for you, isn't it? Miss USA Kristen Dalton, author Janet Evanovich, Washington Redskins tight end Chris Cooley? There's always next year.

The championship was the product of perseverance and hard work. The Chase Tracker is a somewhat complicated competition, because you have to predict what the point standings will look like every week. You don't just throw this together in a few minutes, people. Getting it right takes science. In consultation with mathematicians at MIT, I spent months constructing an algorithm that analyzed everything from historical trends and track data to barometric pressure and driver shoe size. My lab featured blackboards covered in loop data. The result, produced moments before the green flag fell at New Hampshire, was a revelation: pick Jimmie.

And that's what I did, taking the champ to win five Chase races and the title. He won four and the title. Close enough. Oh, you should have been there at Homestead for the dramatic ending. It would have been riveting, had anyone paid any attention. While Johnson was wiping the floor with the competition, winning the Sprint Cup title by 141 points, I edged Jerry Van Der Ploeg of Eurosport TV by a far more dramatic 16. Taking water only on that last pit stop at the media buffet likely proved to be the difference.

So at the postseason awards ceremony in Las Vegas, when Johnson said "I've always wanted to be respected for the work I've put in," I knew exactly how he felt. Or at least, I thought I did. I had come to the Wynn with a speech all prepared, ready to thank all the little people back at NASCAR.COM for their support, my hot date, my column sponsor (hint, hint), and NASCAR senior communications manager Stu Hothem for encouraging me to participate in the first place. But there must have been some confusion as I attempted to make my way to the stage, because I wound up being "detained" in a "back room" by casino security. Oh well, they must have wanted to give Frank Caliendo an extra segment.

Still, the lack of attention was a little strange. As I stood in front of the famous Las Vegas welcome sign to be photographed, just like Johnson, all I heard was "get out of the way!" I arranged my own champion's reception in front of the 25-cent blackjack table at Slots-A-Fun, but the only person who showed up was a pit boss who ordered me to either gamble or leave. It's all gotten to be too much. Champions should not be treated like this. I have half a mind to run a partial schedule in the IndyCar Tracker next season.

The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.