Thank you, Jimmy Spencer.

No, not for reshaping Kurt Busch’s nose or altering that unsettling smile of his. It’s not my goal to be characterized as an animal for endorsing vigilante justice or authorizing physical force in the settling of racetrack disputes.

For giving us something, anything at all to talk about, however, please accept this verbal handshake.

Simply put, this has been the most boring NASCAR Winston Cup campaign in my lifetime, with one of its least personable characters running away with a championship in the dullest fashion imaginable.

So Matt Kenseth is finishing races. What a concept! It makes the hairs on my arm stand and salute. Last time I checked, finishing a race in a modern-day, bulletproof Winston Cup car was a relatively basic accomplishment.

(And no, I’m not jumping on the “change the bloody points system” bandwagon merely because Kenseth is as exciting as purified tap water. This columnist called for NASCAR to institute a Formula One-style points system with a heavier emphasis on winning as far back as 1996, when Terry Labonte won only two races but indefensibly defeated the far more dominant Jeff Gordon for the title. This in spite of the fact that Labonte is about a mile ahead of Gordon on the Guys It Might Be Cool To Have a Beer With list. Look it up if you’re bored.)

Kenseth’s seventh-placing everyone to death is the least galling aspect of a season that has renewed my enthusiasm for going to the beach on Sunday afternoons, even when it rains.

Virtually every race in the last two months has been at least partially settled by fuel mileage and tire wear following each team’s final pit stop. Hey, I tune in to watch a stock

car race, not a mathematics bee.

As for controversy, once part and parcel in NASCAR, you can find more contentious people at those poker championships incessantly broadcast on ESPN all summer. The most intense discussion of the first two-thirds of the Cup season sprang from one driver racing another back to the yellow flag on a road course, for crying out loud. Talk about sad commentary.

Even as ticket sales and television ratings continue to reflect the fastest-growing spectator sport in the nation, racing’s big league demands a machismo transplant. NASCAR sorely needs someone with the accessibility of Richard Petty, the toughness of David Pearson, and the mean streak of David Pearson or Dale Earnhardt.

That’s why the post-race actions of Spencer (and Busch, as some members of the media have unfairly overlooked) at Michigan International Speedway were, in a bizarre way, refreshing.

In a now-well documented exchange, Busch was caught on camera and in a two-way radio conversation with his pit crew attempting to play games with or impede, if not wreck, Spencer near the end of the 400-mile race.

Spencer retaliated by chasing Busch to the garage area, walking up to his car and popping him in the kisser.

The key word there is “retaliated.” Spencer, who many identify as a throwback to NASCAR’s halcyon days due in part to his aggressive streak and unkempt looks, took the brunt of the negative headlines for his apparent boorish behavior in this case. But there is significant evidence indicating that Spencer might not have been the aggressor.

Since establishing himself as the last person to whom Earnhardt gave the finger on the track before his fatal crash at Daytona in 2001, Busch has become a frequent winner without endearing himself to many fellow competitors.

Among the blizzard of young, talented drivers to hit the series in the last five years, Busch arguably is the only one to go about his business without being a “good boy” and establishing dozens of obsequious relationships with the circuit’s “good ol’ boys.”

This, I also find admirable. Just because a driver has been around for 15 or 20 years doesn’t mean he has earned anyone’s respect, Spencer included.

Busch and Spencer’s generation gap manifested itself on multiple occasions in the last two seasons. The feud ignited in March 2002 at Bristol, Tenn., when a bump from Busch helped him hold off Spencer for his first career victory. Spencer ostensibly exacted a measure of revenge at the Brickyard 400, when his fender appeared to nudge Busch into a spin that sent his car into the concrete wall.

NASCAR, typically adept at damage control in such cases, has been unable to defuse two unstable elements. Don’t think for a moment that big boss Mike Helton, rarely seen smiling in public, isn’t hiding at least a modest grin behind that mustache.

You can interpret that from the penalty. Spencer was suspended for a mere week after essentially punching a guy’s lights out. Busch joins him on probation for the remainder of the season.

I’m not advocating violence, but what transpired between Spencer and Busch happens in almost every major sport. In some sports, fisticuffs during a game are a normal course of action.

The way Spencer went about his business was a heck of a lot less dangerous and violent than the stunt Busch seemingly tried to pull. At least his shenanigans couldn’t have caused injury to an innocent party.

In the end, it’s nice to see passion and raw emotion for a change. It restores my faith in NASCAR as housing something other than 43 automaton millionaires, shilling for

sponsors left and right and checking their personalities at the door.

At the risk of standing up for all the bullies in the world, I’ll say it again.

Thank you, Kurt, for snoozing through most of your Dale Carnegie course. And much gratitude, Jimmy, for administering a fat lip instead of joining everyone else and biting a hole through your tongue in the name of public relations.

Kalle Oakes is sports editor. He can be reached by e-mail at koakes@sunjournal.com.

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