Johnson has it all, except a nickname that is suitable (NASCAR.com)
March 7, 2010
Plain ol Jimmie. Something needs to be done about that.
He’s won four consecutive series championships, is closing fast on 50 career race victories, and is nowhere close to finished. By the time he slips out of that blue and silver No. 48 car for good, Jimmie Johnson will likely have rewritten a large chunk of the NASCAR record book, and established himself as one of the four or five greatest drivers ever to compete on America’s premier stock-car circuit. And yet, there’s one area where he lags well behind the rest of the field.
The man needs a nickname.
Everybody else has one. There’s a Rowdy and a Happy, an Ironman and an Iceman, a Smoke and a Smokey. There’s a Junebug and a Jaws, a Mayor and a Herman, a Franchise and a Four-Time and a Sliced Bread. There’s a Front Row Joe and a Million Dollar Bill, a Gentleman Ned and a Handsome Harry, a Mr. Excitement and a Cousin Carl. There’s a Cotton and a Buckshot, a Rocketman and a Fireball. There’s a Big Bud and a Little Bud, a Tiny and a Red, and of course an Intimidator and a Silver Fox and a King.
And then there’s Jimmie. Plain ol’ Jimmie.
Something needs to be done about that. Oh, sure, there’s this “Double J” moniker that’s been attached to Johnson, which isn’t bad—if you’re someone who scratches records or lays down funky beats. For a race car driver? Not quite. Plus, it’s terribly ordinary. Anyone with the right initials can call themselves “Double J,” regardless of what they do for a living or how adept they are at it. It conveys nothing of speed or danger, gives us no hint of the man’s accomplishments or personality, things the best nicknames do. Johnson needs something that not only suits him, but expresses a degree of authority, and in one or two words sums up the hold he has over the rest of the Sprint Cup tour.
Of course, that’s easier said than done. Nicknames usually happen naturally—Randy Lajoie one day pegging a then-up-and-coming Joey Logano as “Sliced Bread,” Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s family members and close friends referring to him as “Junebug,” Tony Stewart earning the “Smoke” moniker in his early U.S. Auto Club days not because of the way he smoked the field but because of the way he smoked his tires. Someone says it, almost without thinking, and it sticks. That’s how the members of David Reutimann’s race team ended up calling him “The Franchise,” a nickname at first meant to be facetious, but which took on new meaning after he won last year’s Coca-Cola 600, the first victory for Michael Waltrip Racing.
In Johnson’s case, there has so far been no organic moment of realization, where some sharp-witted crewman or sportswriter offhandedly tosses out a potential nickname and everyone thinks: that’s it. The best we have are the aforementioned, highly average “Double J,” and “Superman,” the latter of which does indeed speak to the somewhat indestructible nature of his race team, but which NBA player Dwight Howard—not to mention Marvel Comics—already owns. So it’s time to go back to the beginning, to start from scratch, and try and build Jimmie Johnson an appropriate nickname using some of the proven methods from the past. Such as:
Personality traits. Why is Kevin Harvick called “Happy”? Because he used to smile a lot, even though the nickname has an equally cynical side to it on days (such as most of last season) when the current points leader is in a foul mood. Kyle Busch is indeed rowdy, Ned Jarrett is indeed a gentleman, Harry Gant is indeed handsome. Darrell Waltrip indeed talks a lot, and Carl Edwards does indeed look like your cousin—albeit the one who plays free safety for the Kansas City Chiefs. Dewayne “Tiny” Lund had the incongruous nickname often bestowed upon big men, and Charles “Red” Farmer once had copper-colored hair.
Johnson? Well, he’s cool under pressure. He’s unflappable on the race track. He’s a rather uncomplicated Southern California guy with an easy-going manner who knows how to represent his car owner and sponsor before the cameras, but also knows how to raise a little hell when he’s around his friends. Often, he has a beard. All fine qualities, but not exactly conducive to building a nickname. Actually, “Iceman” would fit rather perfectly had it not been claimed years ago by the equally as unflustered Terry Labonte. What’s left? “Mr. Cool”? Not a chance. “Blackbeard”? Hey, he is pillaging the Sprint Cup tour these days. But no thanks. Next.
On-track accomplishments. They call Joe Nemechek “Front Row” Joe because of his strength as a qualifier. Similarly, Ryan Newman became “Rocketman” because of his speed on Fridays. Bill Elliott has two nicknames, both for the same season—“Million Dollar” because he won the sport’s first $1 million bonus, and “Awesome Bill” because during that era he was just that. Ricky Rudd inherited the “Ironman” mantle from Labonte after he surpassed the Texan en route to setting a record of 788 consecutive starts. And what else to call Richard Petty, winner of an unapproachable 200 races, but “the King”?
Johnson’s already-historic accomplishments, four consecutive titles and 49 career race victories entering Sunday’s event at Atlanta Motor Speedway, provide plenty with which to work. Unfortunately, “Four-Time” is already taken—by his Hendrick Motorsports teammate Jeff Gordon, at least for the immediate future. And Johnson is piling up titles and race wins at such a rate, any accomplishment-based nickname bestowed upon him now could be outdated in a few seasons. Kyle Busch said Friday that he wouldn’t be surprised if the guy reached the 80-win plateau, which only six other drivers have done. So go ahead, call him “50 cent” if he wins Sunday. But you’ll have to come up with something else in a few weeks.
Garage persona. David Pearson became known as the “Silver Fox” not just because of his premature gray hair, but also his cunning on the track; few played mind games better than the great South Carolina driver, who could throw opponents into a panic with a few well-timed puffs on a cigarette. They called Jimmy Spencer “Mr. Excitement” because something always seemed to be happening around him, good or bad. Dale Earnhardt was the one and only “Intimidator,” a larger-than-life figure who could be (by design) equal measures charming and bullying, and would move people out of his way by his very presence—or if that didn’t work, his front fender.
Johnson doesn’t intimidate people physically the way Earnhardt did, but he certainly does on the track. A string of race victories as he charges toward yet another title can knock the wind out of his opponents like a swift blow to the solar plexus. And Johnson certainly can get in other drivers’ heads—in recent years he’s had them focused on things like perceived favoritism in tire testing, inspection tolerances, and caution-flag timing rather than how to beat the No. 48 car. Johnson is a really nice and polite guy, but don’t be fooled. When the time comes, he’ll try to break your spirit in two.
So perhaps this area is where Jimmie Johnson’s elusive nickname is to be found. Something that conveys the absolute control he has over the Sprint Cup tour at the moment. Something that emphasizes his stature above most everyone else in the garage area. Something that expresses the strength of his race team, that describes the workmanlike efficiency with which he dispatches opponents, and meshes with a construction-themed primary car sponsor.
How did we miss it? It was there all along. Make a hole, people. Jimmie “the Foreman” Johnson is coming through.
The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
