Tony Stewart Day in Kansas raises the question of why other states aren't honoring the affable NASCAR star. Jamie Squire/Getty Images

You've got to hand it to the people of Kansas. In an era in which celebrations often devolve into a car-flipping episode of When Fans Attack, Sunflower State residents managed to contain their euphoria during Wednesday's festivities. Yes, the great state of Kansas celebrated Tony Stewart Day, and remarkably, not a single photographer was knocked down in honor of NASCAR's bad boy.

Of course, this also raises the eminently sensible question: Why on earth did Kansas proclaim Wednesday Tony Stewart Day, and in the words of the official proclamation signed by the governor, "urge all citizens to join in this observance?" The driver of the Home Depot No. 20 Chevrolet is known as the Rushville Rocket, after his hometown. Which is located in Indiana, two full states east of Kansas.

Why not a day for Johnny Damon, the preposterously hirsute Red Sox center fielder hailing from Fort Riley? Could nobody track down Wichita's Barry Sanders? Perhaps Mayetta's Bill James, the Red Sox's statistical guru, could be given an honor linked to a tutorial for the state's schoolchildren on how learning to manipulate spreadsheets can lead to a big-league front office job in this Moneyball era?

How does one "join in this observance," anyway? Personally, I marked the day by knocking a tape recorder from a fellow reporter's hand in the office and kicking it under a file cabinet, mimicking Stewart's infamous move at Daytona in 2001. Stewart is the Sean Penn of NASCAR, minus the creepy mustache and political agenda.

Maybe it's that politicians sense a kindred spirit in Stewart, who makes the kind of actual attacks on the media that politicos only dream of making. Who wouldn't love to see George W. smack a TV camera out of his way, bellowing, "How's this for handling the press, maggot?!" (It probably wouldn't cost him any votes, actually.)

Of course, Stewart has his defenders in the press, including at SI. He's generally well-liked in the garage, they say. He simply has a burning desire to win. When he doesn't, the media gets in his face, and sometimes he snaps like anyone else would. He's just a perfectionist. (Here, perfectionist is code for "guy who goes Real World-crazy when something goes wrong," like San Diego's Brad when he gets a few beers in him.)

Stewart's primary tie to Kansas is that he has raced three times at Kansas Speedway, one of the newer NASCAR stops, without a victory. Why not a day for Jeff Gordon, who won the first two races, or for another Indianan, 2003 victor Ryan Newman? Plus, this year's Kansas race won't be held until October. So why Stewart, and why now?

As much fun as it is -- and far easier -- to simply speculate, one also can go to the source to understand this holiday. In this case, that's the office of Kansas's first-term governor, Kathleen Sebelius.

It turns out the primary reason that Kansas honored Stewart Wednesday is that he was going to be in the state anyway, and NASCAR folks asked for a sitdown with the governor. If I knew it was that easy, I would be showing up daily in state capitals, just hoping for a day of my own. Don't we all deserve a day of our own, even in somebody else's state? I have my eye on Montana at the moment. Less competition.

Then again, we're not all NASCAR drivers, of which there are just 43 at the top level each week. For a state like Kansas, hosting a Nextel Cup race is a license to print money. Kansas Speedway can pack in 80,187 fans, and by the time the green flag drops those folks drop plenty of their own green. "We want to thank the drivers for bringing that excitement to our state and keeping it here," says Nicole Corcoran, a spokesperson for Governor Sebelius. "The race brings a lot of people to Kansas, and they spend money at our hotels and restaurants." That doesn't include the fans that live out of their RVs, but it's a fair point nonetheless.

Can any governor in this era of busted budgets afford not to have a [Insert Driver Here] Day? Kansas's fiscal woes are so pronounced that the governor has recently proposed state-run casinos, where at least the government gives taxpayers a fighting chance to hold onto their dollars as free drinks sap their mental abilities. (18? HIT! The kids need a new school!)

Sebelius, it turns out, might also have a soft spot for jocks. The only daughter of a governor to ascend to a governorship herself -- her dad, John Gilligan, ran Ohio from 1971-'75 -- played basketball at Trinity College, a women's college in Washington, D.C. She runs three miles five days a week, though no word yet if the Democrat can keep up with Bush, who whatever one thinks of his politics, must be given credit for being in MacGyver shape. Sebelius's name has even been bandied about as potential running mate for Senator John Kerry, and we all know how important NASCAR dads are supposed to be in the upcoming election.

So maybe the question should be, why not Tony Stewart Day? Since when should antipathy to the press preclude one from public acclamation? Not when the president himself seems about as eager to sit down with the media for an unguarded moment as Ereka is to hold hands with Omarosa and sing Kumbaya.

Perhaps other states should take Kansas's lead. What is Wisconsin, for instance, waiting for? America's Dairyland should be clearing a spot for its favorite native son, Dick Trickle of Wisconsin Rapids. Dick Trickle Day. Now that's an observance worth joining.