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With the way the Sprint Cup champion is determined, controversy is inevitable. Mayhem is inevitable. This is as NASCAR intended.

Dr. Francenstein -- "It's Frahncensteen!" -- created this monster. So what if the villagers are now storming the castle with torches? (See Frankenstein, Young.)

The great problem with NASCAR having brackets -- and FanDuels -- is that everyone hangs around. When the Green Bay Packers face the New York Giants, no one else competes with the two teams. There are no Seattle Seahawks running on the field to make tackles.

The NASCAR Chase format -- three rounds of three races each, gradually narrowing the field from 16 to 12 to eight to four, and then leaving the few, the fortunate, to race for the championship format at Homestead-Miami Speedway on Nov. 22 -- turns the Chase into Super Mario Brothers.

Banana peels everywhere.

Thanks to Kevin Harvick, the ignominious finish of the CampingWorld.com 500 at Talladega had a certain Roller Derby ambience. Blockers and jammers. Harvick's Chevy, a blocker, clipped Trevor Bayne's Ford, a jammer. It could have been Charlie O'Connell versus Ronnie Robinson at the Cow Palace in '68. I guess that turns Danica Patrick into Joanie Weston. (See Derby, Roller.)

And shows how old I am.

Strained metaphors enduring, this is a repeating rifle of conspiracy theories. No matter what happens, it will be examined closely. A car spins. Ah, hah! Taking one for the team! If one driver not in the Chase has a crash with a driver still in it ... ah, hah again!

This Chase would be questioned if the four finalists were Mother Teresa, Pope Francis, Billy Graham and ... Elvis.

Eventually, Bill O'Reilly will write a book.