Representin': What makes a champion good, anyway?

There are two words in racing that have puzzled me for a long time: Good champion. While not an oxymoron, they don’t really seem to belong together, either. Racing being racing, with the fastest or smartest driver typically taking the checkered flag, is it fair to assess a driver based on anything other than his on-track performance — especially when it comes to racing’s highest honor, a series title? Is there any such a thing as a “good champion” or a “bad champion?”

All champions are good, right? Or at least they’re lucky. But there’s been a notion, particularly in NASCAR, that the sanctioning body, media and fans should hope for a “good champion.” What makes a champion “good” anyway?

In reality, a champion in any racing series is going to be the guy with the most points, determined by on-track performance. However, when fans or media use the term “good champion,” it very rarely equates to a driver’s on-track execution. It’s about personality. A driver can represent the sport well — a good champion — or be the “I-feel-sorry-for-NASCAR-if-that-guy-wins” champion.

I’ve heard it more this year as the Sprint Cup title looks more and more as though it’s going to be Kyle Busch’s for the taking, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about what kind of example Busch might set for the sport. But over the last couple of decades, there have been a mix of personalities holding the big trophy, ranging from the ultra-PC Jeff Gordon to the what-you-see-is-what-you-get Dale Earnhardt, to the standoffish Kurt Busch to the quietly intense Labonte brothers. 

And then there’s Kyle Busch. Busch is petulant and often snotty to media and fans alike. He’s pushy on the track and downright rude off of it. I’m of the opinion that a driver owes his multi-million dollar sponsor (and by default, the fans who support the sponsor and therefore him) the courtesy of a civil reply in an interview, even if he is disappointed by whatever the day’s results show. An answer doesn’t have to sound rehearsed and it can be honest (look at Dale Earnhardt, Jr., as an example of this) but at the least it should be civil. If you need a few minutes to compose yourself, then ask politely for it and the media will gladly oblige. 

Busch doesn’t do this. Even in the throes of victory, he mocks the fans. And when he doesn’t win he complains about the racecar, blaming his crew indirectly, if not outright.  On a few occasions, he’s actually complained about the car even after a win.

Somewhere along the line, Busch never learned the concept of basic sportsmanship. And I can see where many would argue that a poor sport does not make for the kind of champion they want to see. Certainly, that kind if attitude does make not a good role model.

It’s also a little unfortunate for Busch that his breakout year falls when it does. Jimmie Johnson, the two-time reigning champ, is Busch’s polar opposite in every way aside from talent behind the wheel. In addressing the National Press Club this week, Johnson was affable, polite and quick with the one-liners. While it’s true that the ultra-self-conscious Johnson could be more relaxed, he’s not going to embarrass his sponsors or his fans. He may embarrass himself — after all, Johnson celebrated his first championship by surfing on top of a golf cart and ended up with a broken wrist for the effort — but he didn’t blame the driver of the golf cart or the setup. No, Johnson laughed sheepishly and promptly went out and won another championship.

Ironically, the stark contrast between Busch and Johnson doesn’t quite extend to the track, for if it did, Busch would be a dirty driver, dumping guys left and right, while Johnson would never lay a fender to anyone. And that’s not quite accurate.

Johnson is a bulldog, and while he’s not going to wreck a man to win, he’s not going to back down and let him have it, either. Busch doesn’t often resort to outright wrecking, but his driving style makes the observer in the grandstand think he feels the waters should part if he wants a piece of real estate. And he’s certainly not above moving you out of the way to get said property. This was no more evident than at Daytona last weekend, when Busch wanted Johnson’s real estate. Johnson, though, is not as easily intimidated as some and didn’t back down, remaining in the throttle and holding his line. So Busch forced the issue, shoving Johnson’s No. 48 Chevy and ultimately cutting its tire. After the race, the contrast was evident once again, as Johnson more or less took his finish in stride while Busch made the excuse that his car was loose and he couldn’t help but make contact with the 48 (interesting that he moved down into Johnson, when a loose car generally slides up the track).

Frankly, I completely understand why many fans don’t want to put up with a year of Busch flaunting a championship. I don’t care for the guy much myself and, compared to Johnson, he’s not the type of role model one would expect in a champion. But considering his obvious talent in a racecar and his ability to make the most of his superior equipment, does his personality mean Busch would not make a “good champion?”

I don’t think so. I concede that he is not the ideal spokesman for the sport, but he’s winning and like it or not, leading the point standings at the moment. Of course, there’s still a long way to go till Homestead and under NASCAR’s point system, the best driver over the course of the year doesn’t necessarily win the title, which is a shame, but another story altogether. However, should Busch win it all, it won’t be because he didn’t earn it.  In racing, a champion is about performance, not personality. It’s important not to lose sight of that, for when you’ve earned the title, “champion” it really doesn’t matter if you’re a good one or a bad one.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Athlon Sports RSS Feeds