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I dread this time of year. People ask me, "Who is going to win the Chase?" Some of them are on the radio. Some are behind the counter at the Cheapo Gas and Smokes. I could easier predict the final score of the football game on Oct. 2 between Southern Utah and Weber State.

I'm going with Weber State, which wears purple. Furman, where I went, wears purple. When in doubt, I go with purple. Also, Weber State is the Wildcats. Purple schools tend to be Wildcats: Weber State, Northwestern and Kansas State. Furman, however, is the Paladins, so I'm not as sure about Weber State's chances against Southern Utah, but I am surer about Weber State than I am the Chase for the Sprint Cup.

I need to explore it more, so either today or tomorrow, I'm going to the local Chinese restaurant, and I'm going to get a fortune cookie at the end of the meal, and even though there will likely be no fortune -- usually the "fortune" is actually advice, like, "The wise man saves his pocket change" -- there will be lucky numbers on the slip of paper, and if any of the six numbers corresponds with a driver in the Chase, that's whom I'm going to pick. If there are more, I'll go with the first one. Or maybe the last one. I’ll flip a coin because I’m saving my pocket change.

I know of a country song that claims anyone who reads the box scores and the funny papers is as well-informed as anyone "on the left or the right." In this case, I'll assume Tom T. Hall, or, rather, the character he encounters in the song, is referring to a NASCAR box score. Besides, no one is going to let me wait until Oct. 2, when the Southern Utah-Weber State box score will be available.

Winning the championship is much more difficult than a crap shoot. This format had a game of marbles to start, and the cat eyes and steelies will line up for qualifying again after three races, and then after three more, and three more, and then, in one race in Homestead, Fla., on Nov. 22, four will compete, head to head except for the 39 other cars on the track, for all the marbles.

Then NASCAR, and all of its stakeholders -- some of whom will surely be wondering "what am I doing with this stake?" -- will pontificate over the winter on what a deserving champion Paul Menard is.

Okay, that's unlikely. Just because Ryan Newman finished second last year, it doesn't mean Menard will win it all this year, but that's what I'd like.

Remember, I'm basing this on fortune cookies.

Timing is everything. In the first race, it's entirely possible, and perhaps even likely, that someone with multiple victories and a really fast car is going to finish 29th, and what that means is that, unless that driver wins one of the two afterward in The Challenger Round, he is not going to make The Contenders Round or The Elimination Round or whatever the final race is called, which, for the purposes of proper nouns, let's call The All the Marbles Round.

If you prefer The Big Kahuna, or something either Monty Python or Indiana Jones sought, be my guest.

Recently, Donald Trump said this process has no substance, right before he saw a kettle and called it black. It may have no substance, but it is "huge!"

Some really smart observers actually think this process is fair. Well, they say they're smart when they're on TV, Twitter, or the Internet, so it must be true.

When all the marbles are in the sandbox, two will roll out crystals, and a third will have a steelie, and one guy -- Menard, perhaps -- will pull a yellow cat-eye out of his pouch and act like it came with perfect balance, "forward" bite and just the right amount of snugness. What actually will have accompanied it are five well-timed wave-arounds, a clump of rubber disguised as debris and the luckiest dog this side of Rin Tin Tin.

That guy won't win the championship unless God has a particularly keen sense of humor that day, but I've often thought the Good Lord did, or else I wouldn't have lived my life this way, would I?