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I like racing. But four hours of racing at one time? Ack.

College basketball clocks in at right about two hours. The NBA? About 2 to two-and-a-half hours. (And all you really need to watch is the fourth quarter anyway.)

Pro football is long -- about three hours and change. College football is roughly the same length. But both of those are deceptive -- on Sundays and Saturdays respectively, there are a hundred games and a thousand highlights, so it seems like it's actually one long game from noon to about midnight. And I love every minute of it.

Major League Baseball manages to squeeze about 10 minutes of quote-unquote action into about 10 hours. Yawn.

And racing? It's loooooong.

Points. They're the lifeblood of sports.

A run is 1 point. (Technically, it's one run, but bear with me here.) A touchdown is 7 (when you include the extra point.) A goal is one in pretty much every sport you play. A field goal is two (in basketball, unless it's three) or three (in the American variety of football, which rules all).

Points tend to come in small, even (or prime) numbers.

And then there's NASCAR.

NASCAR's qualifying is pretty simple, right? Go fast or go home.

Except if you're in the top 35 of owner (not driver) points or if you're a past champion. And if you're not one of those and it rains, you're outta here unless your owner rolled a piece-of-crap car out there more often than someone else.

Get where I'm going? NASCAR qualifying is stupid and complicated and protects a bunch of has-beens and field fillers just because, well, I don't know why.

Qualifying needs to be simpler.

So here's the new simple rule: Go fast or go home.

The current NASCAR season is 36 races.

It hasn't always been that long. Or as short.

Twenty years ago, when Crusty Wallace won his one and only championship, the 1989 Cup season was 29 races long.

Thirty years ago, the '79 season was 31 races long, and it didn't start in Daytona. (It started on a road coarse in California.)

Forty years ago, the 1969 season actually started in 1968. When it ended in College Station, Pa., on Dec. 7, the season had seen 54 races. Season champ David Pearson missed three races and still won, partly because Richard Petty skipped four and mostly because Pearson whupped everyone that year.

My point: There's absolutely nothing sacred about the 36-race season.

So I propose 25.

The NASCAR season is too long. There should be absolutely no debate about that.

It starts sometime after lunch on Feb. 15. It ends well after dinner on Nov. 22.

That's a lot An entire Major League Baseball season will be played in between those dates. An entire human baby can be conceived and born in that time. Jeff Gordon can go 0-for-36 in that span.

That's a long freakin' time, and my attention span is short.

Let's look at some other major sports:

NASCAR needs a major overhaul. It needs:

* A shorter season (Part 2)

* Go-fast-or-go-home qualifying

* A new points system

* Shorter races

* More and different tracks

* An old-is-new way to decide your season champion.

Assuming we don't get a blizzard before lunch today, check back this afternoon when I start clicking off the laps. Er, posts.