The best athlete of the decade can't hit, tackle. shoot or score. All he does is win.

It remains the most intriguing, entertaining, argumentative, vexing, annoying, time consuming, time wasting, useless, necessary debate.

The greatest athlete.

All-time. All-around. Single season. Single game. Single play. I’m surprised the debate hasn’t been narrowed down to the certain juxtaposition of astrological signs in relation to Earth tidal forces and the latest gnashing of teeth from Cubs fans.

With the second decade of the 21st century about to debut, this leaves us with the first “long term” sports debate of the era.

The single greatest and most dominating American athlete in the first decade of the 21st century.

And an excellent argument can be made this athlete fits the bill on a global scale as well.

And there is not one single logical discourse to the contrary.

Jimmie Johnson. Driver of #48 in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series. Winner of 4 consecutive season titles.

Hands-down. Not even close.

Anyone who simply calls him one of the best ever in motorsports alone knows as much about being an athlete as Megan Fox would know about being a nun.

I will not waste a lot of invectives and adjectives here trying to once again convince the non-believers that racers are athletes. No matter how persuasive, logical, or chock filled with facts the arguments are, I have found there is little in the way that can be done to remove lifetimes of athletic ignorance.

So I won’t spend any time at all in noting the hours spent strapped into a bullet doing sometimes over 200 MPH and taking forces of gravity up to 6 times the norm. And the incredible stress that places on the human body, both physically and mentally. Or the physical conditioning it takes to undergo that punishment for up to 5 hours or more every weekend, not counting the mountain of practice hours spent under those same conditions.

No, I won’t dip into the well of debate focusing on the fact that for many athletes you make a mistake and there’s a shattered bone or two that will more than likely mend to some semblance of normalcy.

Compared with the split second mistake on the track that shatters lives leaving friends and families unable to ever find that semblance of normalcy again.

Let’s focus instead on what Johnson has accomplished. In one of the most physically and mentally demanding sports in the world, he has captured the most coveted prize in his sport four times.

Four consecutive times.

The last time someone other than Jimmie Johnson had his name inscribed on the NASCAR Sprint/Nextel Cup Championship trophy, it was back in 2005. Since the dawn of the 2006 season, where Johnson came from a 4th place finish the season before and fittingly won the season opening Daytona 500, he has taken the checkered flag in 30 events. That’s winning almost 21% of the total races in four seasons.

66 times in those four seasons he finished in the top 5 of fields that usually contain more than 40 cars at the green flag. That’s right on the cusp of one half of every race over 4 seasons he wound around to finish in the top 5.

Like every great and dominating athlete of any age, Jimmie Johnson didn’t do it alone. Fat dollar sponsors. Fat wallet owners. Crew chiefs. Pit Crews. Technicians. Guys holding wrenches that don’t get to see the underside of their fingernails until around December every year. Support staff. The people who drive those parts and car laden trailers to every event, every weekend, every year. People who see a lot less of their families and friends than the star drivers ever have to complain about.

Like his peers, Jimmie Johnson never complains. Never whines. Never has the option of calling for the trainer mid-race. Never has one split second while on that track to kick back and have a laugh looking up at the buxom blonde in the second row.

But unlike other athletes in what are often referred to as the “stick and ball” sports, he began his career with no chance at a guaranteed contract. Signing bonus? Sure kid, here’s a fast food gift certificate. And if for whatever reason he would falter and lose his touch, like every other driver in his sport no matter the legacy, those hefty sponsor dollars would dry up faster than the absorbent used to soak up oil spills on the asphalt.

Bellow all you like about Johnson not taking a head slap from a portly lineman. Never having to face a curveball that breaks off the table like a lead weight. Being hacked in the paint. Checked against the boards. Banging heads for a loose ball. Pressure putt on the 18th. Match point. The last hurdle. The fat kid with one last “cats-eye” and a bead on your last bumboozer.

You’re right. He’s never had to face any of that.

Makes no difference.

Not one single athlete has dominated the first decade of the 21st century like Jimmie Johnson.

And we can only wait to see what he does for an encore.