This is great. Really great. Totally stoked. The Jays pulled some strings (no they didn't) and got me, your inherently lazy couch commentator, an interview with Robin Pemberton (well, no*). Robin Pemberton, to refresh your memory, is currently the Vice President of Competition for NASCAR, meaning his job is an oxymoron. No, I did not say he was a moron.

Anyway, the Jays worked really hard (bwahahaha) and got me this interview (again, no, they didn't), so I wanted to share with you his thoughts (as commentated by me).

Q: So, there are many opinions flying around right now about the state of NASCAR. What is your general opinion on the state of the sport?

Robin Pemberton: I think things are in pretty good shape.

Like the fence at Talladega, Jeff Gordon's car at Watkin's Glen, and Ryan Newman's undies? And what does ‘pretty good' mean anyway? It's one of those tacit phrases that really means the opposite in my book. Like, "The tofu-polenta stir fry is not bad, honey". Plus, when you add two words together that basically mean the same thing, you are lying.

I think we've had great competition this year.

You and the 48 team. Were you even watching the Daytona 500 (rain-shortened), Phoenix, Talladega (Fall), California (Spring), Kansas (all of them, ever), the Chase race, and every other single-file parade that my wet brain has already forgotten?

We have some rivalries that have developed throughout the year -

We have one rivalry: just one, not some. Granted, it's a good one, because as far as I can tell neither one of them cares.

and for the most part, I think we've had some of the best competition I can remember in my years in the sport.

Jesus, Robin, put down the pipe. JJ has run away with this thing. What year are you "in"? 1978?

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Wow, what else is there to be said? That sucked. From the candy-colored streamline parade to JJ's dumb luck, there wasn't much to relish. Yup, it sucked for a multitude of reasons, but the biggest may have to be the death of a unique race. RIP Talladega , welcome to the cookie cutter club.

Ironically, some two-score ago when Talladega premiered, the races pretty much sucked, too. In fact, the drivers actually striked (past tense of "to go on strike," and yes I'm aware that that is not a word) the very first race. They were broadly afraid. I don't blame them on this one. Back then a seatbelt was the roof, and Talladega was the equivalent of taking a toboggan into a luge course. If I had nothing but a t-shirt, a leather football helmet and pack of cigarettes rolled up in my sleeve as my safety devices, I'd soil myself too.

Now? For safety reasons, drivers are also striking, but contrarily, calling for more speed (I'm pretty sure this makes them tougher than their forefathers, just sayin'). They striked (yeah, I'm still aware) to let them race. And whether it was deliberately unionized or not isn't the point; they acted in union. They didn't race for a simple reason: there was no incentive to. Passing at Talladega is now next to impossible without eight or more wheels pushing, NASCAR banished the bump draft (behind only rubbin', the second-coolest evolutionary nuance and tool in the driver arsenal), and Talladega is synonymous with 'DNF, Crash,' making it the Chase's strategic equivalent of a speed walking contest.

I love how NASCAR still defended the race, even in the face of overwhelming opposition. The drivers, the journalists and the fans were (and still are) nearly unanimous in their distaste, yet NASCAR still won't admit the truth and prefers to expostulate the collective perception.

That's right, you didn't see a single-file parade. You saw only five cautions and some 20-plus lead changes in the waning laps. Silly fool, that is excitement!

Whatever. Take your statistics and shove them up your Eastaboga. Your rules castrated the competition and still didn't negate the Big One. Ryan Newman just got a superspeedway lobotomy, and you forced me to listen to Mark Martin exclaim that, in his entire career, he had never been in that position before. Man, he really wasted that Viagra sponsorship.

But I also hold Steve Letarte and Alan Gustafson liable. Sure, the race sucked, but the Chase race sucked even worse. I'm no expert crew chief, but why in the world would you do the opposite of Chad Knaus? The guy has only ruled the Chase strategy for four straight seasons and currently has his driver in position to win an unprecedented fourth straight championship. Yeah, do the opposite of that guy. That makes loads of sense.

Yeah, all the way around, that was a bummer. Oh well, there is still Texas, Phoenix and Homestead.

Awe, hell, on second thought, congratulations JJ.

How does John Andretti parked at the start/finish line not constitute debris?

A week ago (or was it the week before?), it was a beer cup, or a foam seat cushion, or some other form of armor-piercing projectile, so justifiably a caution was thrown. This week a gen-u-ine, two-time Winston Cup race winner was performing his best bulls-eye impression, and NACAR let 'em race.

Color me confused. (I mean, I can understand letting them race to the finish if Scott "The Antonym" Speed is sitting there, but an Andretti? Sacrilege.)

The only thing consistent about NASCAR right now is the 48 team, who is consistently - and nauseatingly - great. (Actually, that's selling them short. Their domination is absolute. They are de-pantsing the competition, currently.) Yeah, that's not entirely accurate. The only things consistent about NASCAR lately have been the 48 team (consistently consistent), Junior (consistently unlucky and, one presumes given his sad fortune lately, drunk), Michael Waltrip (consistently, one gathers from reading his police reports, just under drunk), and NASCAR itself (consistently inconsistent).

This - specifically - is what's driving me crazy about NASCAR right now.

And the phantom debris caution (and occasional real, human debris non-caution) is the most ordinary and observable example. And don't tell me that an empty beer can on the back stretch is a threat to the safety of the drivers.

A) The windshields are polycarbonate resin thermoplastic. The same material used for the cockpit canopy of a F-22 Raptor.

B) I watched Carl Edwards get hit by a flying catch fence (yeah, he was doing the flying, but it sounds better that way) and distinctly remember him jogging across the finish line.

C) College kids smash empty beer cans off their foreheads as a mating ritual.

NASCAR, under dubious assertions at times, exerts its will when it feels so inclined.

I suppose, as a fan, I should feel some sort of rebellious gratitude. They aren't doing it for themselves. They are doing it for me. NASCAR is always trying to improve the product, and I do not know of another sporting authority that blatantly attempts to improve the finish of an event - during the actual event - for my enjoyment. But the fact that they do it isn't what bugs me. It's the consistency, or inconsistency, by which they do it.

It's hard to play the game when the rules are constantly changing. It's also hard to follow the game when the rules are constantly changing. And well beyond the phantom debris caution, they are simply screwing with it too much.

The cries I hear most are demanding even more change. Points for qualifying, points for wins, points for the regular season, minus points for wrecking a Chase contender (okay, not quite, but I'm sure they've thought about it), and most loudly, change the CoT. I disagree.

I'm not ecstatic with the Chase or the CoT, but I also don't have any idea of what they can be. (I'm also a Gordon fan, and so constitutionally bound to despise both the Chase and the CoT for denying him his fifth, respectively). They don't let me look at any one iteration long enough to witness the potential. They've introduced too many variables, and thus far, let none of them mature.

In an effort to improve the product, they've allowed the product to rule themselves (the Chase format produced their annual tinkering with it). In their effort to make it something for everyone, they've made it nothing to some (California produced boring racing to the North Wilkesboro die-hard). In their effort to unify, they've lost their uniformity (the CoT enhanced Hendrick domination).

I suppose I'd just like NASCAR to let them race under the same set of rules for a while. Of course, if Martinsville hadn't reminded me how much I miss the mad sprint to the start/finish following a caution, I probably wouldn't be disturbed by any of this.

Honestly? Mark Martin listens to Gucci Mane?

Gucci Mane? Mark Martin? What the hell? He's messing with us, right? The fact that Mark Martin knows who Gucci Mane is scares me. The fact that he lifts weights while rocking out to Gucci Mane downright disturbs me. The mental image of Mark Martin pumping himself up in a mirror, blowing up his eight different sets of bicep curls, and popping about (with his hat turned backward, I picture) while shouting, "I'm starting off my day with a blunt of purp/no pancakes just a cup of syrup" is the single most bizzaro thought to cross my mind in decades.

And let's be frank, Gucci Mane sucks. Purp and syrup don't even rhyme.

Junior finally expressed what everyone unambiguously knew - that his season is one big dump - and yet it was still ubiquitous news. (Yes, I understand why.) But Mark Martin professed his man love for the CEO of So Icy Entertainment and no one noticed? If I were Mike Helton, I'd forget about Jeremy Mayfield and get those drug testers to Mark Martin's house stat.

Rockstar lifestyle mic don't make it
Living life high everyday click wasted
Sippin on purple stuff rolling up stanked
Wake up in the morning ain't 10 o'clock drinkin
Party party party let's all get wasted
Shake it for me babygirl do it butt naked

I rest my case.

(Okay, no I don't. I have too many questions? Mark knows that his first name isn't really Gucci, right? Does Mark know what a blunt is? Is Gucci honored to count Mark as a fan? Does Mark hang backstage at his shows? Has Mark given Gucci a ride-along? Should I start looking over my shoulder?)

Okay, so we've now established that Mark Martin has a sense of humor - a damn good one at that. What else did we learn this week?

Oh yeah, Junior has seasonal affective disorder. He is clearly sad. Fair enough. I hate winter, too.

Also, JPM can whine, man-oh-man can he whine. He takes the adult male hissy-fit to a whole new level. That is not constructive criticism. It's crapping out of the mouth.

Brian Pattie: Juan, how's the car buddy?

JPM: Refuse. Swill. Flotsam. I most dislike Jeff Gordon. I swear Kevin Harvick looks like Philip Rivers. Turn two smells like old lady breath. Rubbish, I tell you. I fart a bowel movement on this car.

Or, you know, thereabouts.

I'm positive there isn't a driver out there who hasn't completely wronged him. And I loved that he blamed Jeff Gordon for his torn up car on Saturday night. No, Juan, that wasn't Jeff's fault. You see, he was leading the race. What? You still don't understand? Look, just relax, breath deeply and repeat after Gucci:

My flow is amazing hottest in the nation
Ice game super stupid but my money game crazy.

Hey, it's worked for Mark.

Hey, have you guys read anything about Danica Patrick's potential move to NASCAR? Yeah, probably not, it's been easy to miss. Since there isn't much going on in NASCAR right now, it's a wonder she's not garnering more media attention. But don't worry, to fulfill the public service pledge in my From the Couch employee manual (and buck current convention), I thought I would take the time to cover Danica's pending career decision.

So, Danica, she's an attractive female race car driver. No, she doesn't race stock cars. She races those plastic kit cars with wings and no windshields in that one series. Apparently they only have a single race a year, but it's a really big one, lasting like a month or something.

Danica's a pretty good driver, maybe at times marginal. She won once, and finished the season fifth in points. She's also had the good fortune of working for high-profile owners with an eye for talent. Her current employer is Michael Andretti, and she used to work for David Letterman.

Given her good looks, Danica is also rather effective at marketing. She stars in a lot of jolly TV commercials designed to make you buy their product because it's just so silly that Danica is living an inverted stereotype, like always getting pulled over by female officers or getting asked to sign some slob's man boobs. She races a Honda and is sponsored by Boost Mobile, a really fast-acting diuretic, and GoDaddy.com, a support Web site for first time fathers. She's also modeled, provocatively, in a blatant attempt to contrast her sport and her sex. It seems to have worked.

Unfortunately for Danica, her marketing quotient is being stymied by the series she races in. Apparently, the 2 a.m. Sunday broadcast on Telemundo Sports is cutting into her exposure. Hence, her interest in NASCAR. She's met with many of the major names in the sport, only to have them denounce her interest. Then, reportedly, she went and signed a three-year deal with her former employer, scuttling all further media attention.

But lest you think her interest in NASCAR is for the money only, Michael Waltrip says no. This makes Michael either the most gullible owner alive, or the most gullible man alive. Yeah, this is a spiritual endeavor, for the love of sport.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. said that he would welcome her to NASCAR. I'm envisioning a party in his basement, but it's possible he means an actual race. Of course, what he'd really like is to pass along the disproportionate success and popularity torch and, thus, his hospitable timbre.

Jack Roush says that any plan where she shares time between her series and NASCAR won't work. I'm paraphrasing, but he basically said that her history indicates that success will elude her in stock cars. Given the performance of Roush Fenway Racing as of late, it's highly probable that he's speaking about a future on his team.

So, three nays and a contract in hand pretty much assure that Danica is staying put. Sadly, we won't be seeing her swapping fingernail polish with Mr. Speed for 35th in points.

But then recently Rick Hendrick was quoted as saying that Danica is inconsequential to NASCAR. Those are strong words, implying that her "money" won't spend in the closed wheel world. This can mean only one thing: he's lying. What he really means is that he hasn't signed her just yet, and he's devaluing Danica in the eyes of her negotiators and his opponents. In other words, he's prepping her room at the inn.

Yup, be prepared to get bludgeoned with Danica Patrick promos for the Nationwide Series in 2010. Hey, it could be worse. We could be talking about someone less easy on the eyes making the jump to NASCAR, like say Sam Hornish Jr.

Oh, wait...

Please do not tell me that Brad Keselowski got flagged for illegal hands to the face. Tell me that was a joke. Because if true, quite simply, that's horse$&#%.

This is NASCAR, not women's lacrosse (whoa-up there Ani DiFranco, I'm talking about the non-contact juxtaposition; trust me when I tell you that I venerated women's lacrosse in college). They aren't shadow boxing. This isn't golf. It's a stock car race, a sport built on machismo, bravado and the primitive, feral awareness to flee whomever happens to be behind you (like running from the cops, or for you kids, the boogey man) and beat the hell out of whomever is in front of you (you know, like talking to an airline ticket clerk, or for you college students, like standing in line at White Castle).

Apparently, during Sunday's race, Brad Keselowski was told by race officials to drive like a wussy around Chase drivers (or, if you prefer a mature interpretation, "to tone it down").

Boo.

This wasn't the Bodine brothers at the Brickyard bringing their sibling rivalry to a boil. It wasn't a multi-round feud, like the Jimmy Spencer-Kurt Busch fight.

No, it was just good, strong, stock-car auto racing - as in the National Association of.

Yeah, I understand pandering to the high dollar, a practice as old as the gi-normous TV broadcast contract, the collateral damage of advertising assurances. Michael Jordan, if you recall, used to get fouled during warm-ups. Now, Tom Brady has a force field, visible to officials only, that once breached triggers an immediate flag.

I also understand the concept of respecting one's elders. It's a basic unwritten rule in every facet of life, and it harkens back to the chivalrous days of old. No one, after all, wants to get ridiculed for knocking poor grandpa's dentures onto the track during a national broadcast. But really, who's that old in the Chase? And furthermore, it's a violation of the athletic code, which mandates that athletes use every scrap of strength and skill during competition so that no excuses may be later uttered (which also doubles as an advertising assurance, actually; good competition means happy advertisers).

And yes, I understand that NASCAR doesn't want to compromise the Chase with a regrettable and otherwise avoidable situation, particularly when a rookie is involved. The damn buzzards would pick him alive. But protecting Brad isn't the point. No, it goes back to protecting NASCAR's product, as ill-conceived and out-of-place as it may be given the circumstances of their particular playoffs. For NASCAR, while understandable, it's also a contradiction.

Why (in one word)? Talladega. Why (in two words)? Michael Waltrip. Why (in three words, one number and a parenthetical phrase)? I count 43 drivers (even in the Chase races). Why (in a multiple-word rant)? NASCAR is essentially pulling the equivalent of a team order, which NASCAR has previously tabooed, drivers have publicly guffawed, and fans have soundly scorned. It's a gross extension of the phantom debris caution, a blatant manipulation of the outcome of the race by the governing officials of the sport.

Really, if NASCAR wants to minimize outside factors playing a part in the Chase, there are lots of options that don't have the reactive smack of intrusive meddling. Go to the oft-mentioned two separate points systems. Line up the non-Chasers behind the Chasers on every restart. Put restrictor plates on all non-Chasers. Have two heats. Or if NASCAR really wants to avoid non-Chasers interference in the outcome of a race, only race the 12 cars.

That would be great for the product.

Actually, don't do that. You see, I'm overreacting to something that hasn't occurred, just like the Keselowski warning. Naw, instead, just let 'em race, all of them.

Or, I suppose, we could go back to the old points system?

What was it Mark Martin said about Jimmie Johnson, "I'm pretty sure that dude is Superman?"

Mark, you've gone first-second in the first two races of the Chase. You sit first in points. And Cup or not, you are AARP's leading (okay, only) counterargument for geriatric license restrictions.

But before we go there, Superman? Of all the superheroes, you go with Superman? If that were true, hypothetically speaking of course, why would he drive a car to beat you? Superman once flew into the sun, so a stock car seems a little superfluous.

Super strength? He couldn't even hold onto a golf cart, for crying out loud. X-ray, infra-red, laser-secreting vision? Highly doubtful. Just mention "2005 Talladega " to Dale Jr. A red Speedo banana hammock as outerwear? God I hope not.

No, JJ is not Superman. He is not even superhuman. He is just flat out bad ass at driving a car. Plus, everyone knows that Shaq is Superman.

(But Chad Knaus as Lois Lane ? Hhhmmn.)

It's no secret that I've long been on Mark's other side. I think I've made that clear. He is just so vanilla, in style, conversation and even complexion (musical tastes, maybe not). For what seems like my entire life I've been a critic of his mild-mannered driving style and his subsequent catatonic interviews (Clark Kent?). Yet, the guy has been wheeling a car in NASCAR's premier series since 1981, and despite all efforts, I've finally been reduced to mocking his analogies.

I can't believe I'm writing this, but Mark Martin is starting to win me over.

The year Mark Martin first raced a Winston Cup event, Buick was the car to beat, Neil Bonnet turned a wheel, and they still raced at the Texas World Speedway (where a 400-mile Cup race was conducted without a single yellow. That's right, no phantom debris cautions. Now that is history). In 1981, Jay Hart was eight. In 1981, Jay loved Pacman and thought The Cannonball Run was a cinematic masterpiece. In 1981, MTV was launched (with videos!), Ronald Regan was shot (as POTUS, and not an actor), and the Oakland Raiders - the current poster child for sports futility - were a winning football team. If that sounds like a long time ago, that's because it was.

Let's put it this way, Mark Martin has raced at an elite level for a decade longer than Joe Logano (the Y has officially gotten knocked out of him) has been alive. And arguably, at least I'm arguing it, this is his finest year. Yes, he has Super JJ to worry about, but he has never been in better equipment and has never been ranked so high so late in the game. Simply, Mark is taking advantage of his swan song. He came back to win, and he's doing it.

I suppose that alone should endear me to him. I do admire his persistence, endurance and obvious love for the sport. But golly gee, I'm not quite there yet. When he finally puts the chrome horn to JPM, when he finally drops a casual f-bomb in conversation, or when he finally admits that he's atop the points and the man to beat, I may just ante up for a fan club membership.

Should he be or shouldn't he be? It's not fair. It ain't right. Boo. Hoo. Hoo.

Let's just face up to the fact that Kyle Busch didn't make the Chase, shall we? I have. His smug mug will not grace the endless Chase propaganda.

(It might just be this cold medicine that's currently making my eyes wobble in their sockets, but Kyle is starting to look like Bert of Bert and Ernie fame. I know this sounds crazy, but let us probe the facts: long, oval head, beady eyes, a chirpy voice that sounds like it's coming from someone else. He's grumpy, easily frustrated and often loses his temper. He has a brother named Kurt that looks just like him, but acts a bit better behaved. Damn, Kyle may be a Muppet. Does NASCAR's R&D lab have their Muppet-human hermaphrodite test ironed out yet?)

Anyway, Kyle will not be hoisting the Sprint Cup formerly known as Winston. No haughty, season-capping curtsy for the Instigator. Nope, it ain't happening.

And I, unlike everyone else it seems, think that that is a good thing.

A whole whopping eight points (ah, Kyle and the number eight always find each other) is what separated him from being a constant topic of discussion (at least we have that going for us). Those eight points were lost at Richmond, despite what he claimed. They were also lost at every other race, save for the wins. The regular season, to make my point clear, is still the same. The points system for the first 26 races has not changed. It is the same as it ever was.

Look, Kyle won four races. He had five more top 10s. He also had two DNFs and seven races where he finished a lap or more down. So, out of 26 races, he was competitive in nine of them (admittedly not all his doing) and not competitive in nine of them (admittedly, not all his fault). His average finish was 16.2. I believe that is called the law of averages, which makes him average (okay, slightly better than average). Should average qualify you for the Chase?
Let's look at Juan Pablo Montoya, since he's taking some guff for his qualifying route to the Chase. No wins. Eight top 10s. Five races a lap or more down. Average finish of 13.8. Greg Biffle: no wins. Ten top 10s. Four races a lap or more down. Average finish of 14.5.

Kyle simply wasn't consistent enough. Twelve other guys were. And a lack of consistency, whether it's the Chase or the old format, dooms any season, in any era, under any format. That is, and always has been, NASCAR. It's about consistency, both before the Chase was put into place and now. If the old points system were employed today, he'd have no shot at the Cup.

So, I guess the argument should be, either you are for consistency as the meter for a championship, or for wins as a meter for the championship.

My father taught me NASCAR's lure as equal parts excitement, equal parts civic pride, and equal parts history. That puts me in the consistency category. And the reason I'm glad Kyle didn't make the Chase is simply because he didn't earn it. Four wins aside, under the current qualifying format he simply wasn't consistent enough to merit inclusion.

Additionally, this will be good for Kyle, if such a thing can even exist. For his maturity, there isn't a single thing more valuable than getting humbled. The kid needs his knocks. And if missing the Chase by eight measly points teaches him the value of emotional intelligence, my money says that he'll be a Chase regular for years to come.

A few of my observations while watching Atlanta and knowing that I didn't have to go to work the next day:

1. It started out solidly. Brian Zuckerman, chosen by Pep Boys to be the Grand Marshall, greased the "start your engines command," proving that a Senior VP - an attorney even! - understands NASCAR better than a somber late-night talk show host.

2. Dale Earnhardt's skeleton bone gloves are sweet. I'd like to see this extended to the entire fire suit. You know, how about one of those female figures in a bikini for Scott Speed?

3. When did they turn Atlanta into a dirt track? That was a veritable road-course race, with all the right-hand turning going on. And two broken axles? Two? What are the chances? I understand how it happens when you're my sister and you just happen to ignore the re-entry vibration coming from the front end because you "thought it was the radio." But I can't remember the last time I heard of two different drivers from two different teams breaking an axle in the same race.

4. Why is Atlanta not considered a superspeedway? It may be the double-digit drop off in tire wear, but even then, those guys are flat out hauling. And unlike Daytona or Talladega, they actually can pass and have to hit the brakes for something other than a pit stop.

5. Damn beer tastes good while watching NASCAR on a Sunday night and knowing that tomorrow is a holiday.

6. Dodge swept both races at Atlanta. I'll say it again, Dodge swept Atlanta. For a manufacturer and two teams that in recent years have not been synonymous with NASCAR horsepower, that stat is impressive.

7. David Reutimann got fourth, and I hardly noticed. It was almost as if he was camouflaged. Sadly, it was too little too late. But hats off to a great season.

8. Bobby Labonte clearly understands how to professionally say "f@#! you."

9. Kevin Harvick is not happy with Clint Bowyer. It's a safe bet he threw him a couple of unprofessional "F@#! you's."

10. I will never understand the double-file restart rules completely. How does it work for the lead-lap cars that pits multiple times? How about lap down cars that stay out? If a lead-lap car stayed out and everybody else pitted, is he a lap ahead of the field?

11. The only thing I have in common with Carl Edwards? We have both broken a foot playing Frisbee. Well, actually I was drinking beer and fell off a table, but I was playing in an ultimate Frisbee tournament at the time. We don't know the particulars in Carl's case, but I'm assuming it was similar. He claimed that he and a buddy went for the Frisbee simultaneously, resulting in the break. Yeah, right. It's more likely that he made a sweet one-handed catch without spilling a single drop of his adult beverage and went on to spectacularly botch his Daniel-san Karate Kid show-off move. I'm merely speculating, but the guy does back flips when he wins. Clearly he has a celebration issue.

12. In what seems like every race, Jeff Gordon has a moment where he backpedals wildly only to recover and score a solid finish. I'm conflicted about this. I like the recovery. I just don't like that he needs it.

13. Kyle Busch will have some stress on him this weekend, not to mention a few extra cameras. I'll wager that ABC shadows his every move with a Kyle-cam. In fact, I'm praying for it. If he misses the Chase, I fully expect to learn some new cuss words. I'd also suggest that the camera man keep a tranquilizer gun at the ready, unless he wants to get gut stomped by a rabid Shrub.

14. A Labor Day weekend Sunday night race is the perfect recipe for a whopper of a headache.

15. A Saturday night RIR race under the lights to settle eight of the 12 Chase spots is going to be a recipe for a whopper of a headache. I cannot wait.

You know, I always thought that NASCAR was run by the France family, and of course, in many ways it is. They still manage the day-to-day operations, bungle the Chase format annually, and call for the phantom yellows when JJ needs a lap back. And by God, they do a damn good job of it. But in this economy, it has become rather obvious that the France family is loosing their grip to a more powerful force: the almighty greenback.

Just ask Bobby Labonte. And while you're at the Yates shop, ask Paul Menard, too.

Yup, buried just beneath the surface of Bobby's benching lies Paul, and behind Paul, his Daddy's dollars. Bobby lost his ride, and it doesn't make a lick of sense. Unless, that is, Yates shows us his balance sheet.

Bobby Labonte: 18 years in the sport, 570 starts, 26 poles, 198 top 10s, 114 top fives, 21 wins, one Winston Cup Championship (no, not a Sprint Cup Championship; I distinctly remembering him raising the Cup and it said 'Winston Cup' on it), and the only driver to ever successfully pull off a pink paint scheme. Currently 30th in points.

Paul Menard: 6 years in the sport, 99 starts, 1 pole, 2 top 10s, 1 top five, no wins, and one Howie Mandel soul patch. Currently 32nd in points.

So who do you park when the Next Best Thing needs a seat? Bobby, of course!

In all fairness, if Paul keeps up his current pace, he'll have 5 top fives by the time he reaches 570 starts. No, sending Bobby to the pine wasn't about stats, skills, or history. It was about revenue, and Paul has one thing Bobby doesn't – a deep-pocketed sponsor that's (understandably) blind to his shortcomings behind the wheel.

It's no secret that NASCAR is driven by money. With sponsorship the driving force behind the sport, it's all about the bottom line. This makes it no different that any other professional sport, of course. The difference merely lies in the fact that NASCAR doesn't try to hide it. It is, literally, plastered on every available space. Those aren't logos. They are paychecks.

There is no players union. There are no franchises. The owners do not get a formal vote – on anything. (Oh, they can lobby, and just like in politics, the only ones with pull are those with the power. But just like in politics, your attempt to influence legislation can, and at times will, still fail. See Hendrick/Rousch and five-car teams.)

You don't want to drive the cars because they aren't safe, don't climb in the seat. Another driver will fill the void and gladly get paid to do it. You don't like the team limit rules, don't play by them. Another owner will fill the void and gladly take the start-and-park fee for doing it.

It's simple. When the choice is between everything and their way and nothing and yours, their way wins in a landslide. (Jeremy? Jeremy? You listening?) The cumulative mortgage on the jet, helicopter and 120-acre spread pretty much mandate it.

I've never really had a problem with this. In fact, it's what I embrace about NASCAR. It's free enterprise at 190 mph. It's just that I never imagined that NASCAR itself would succumb to such a fate. What made it what it is, is now partially eating it from within.

Toyota, Fontana, the Chase, and Erik Darnell: that's money talking, not NASCAR.