When you start getting mentioned in the same breath as Dale Earnhardt, Jeff Gordon and Tony Stewart, there's a certain high level of accomplishment that goes with it. In most cases, it would also be considered a great honor to be put in that class of drivers.

But I really wonder how comfortable Kurt Busch is being compared with Earnhardt, Gordon and Stewart as the latest driver that fans -- and other drivers, for that matter -- love to hate.

I've liked Busch ever since he burst onto the Winston Cup scene late in the 2000 season, replacing Chad Little in the No. 97 Ford. He's intelligent, eloquent and thoughtful in his answers, he isn't afraid to tackle responses to controversial questions, isn't shy in front of the TV cameras and, most importantly, is one heck of a race car driver.

But it's also for those same reasons that Busch is starting to wear heavily on many in the Winston Cup community. Jimmy Spencer showed his true feelings for Busch two weeks ago at Michigan when he popped him in the kisser, drawing a suspension and probation for the remainder of the season.

It wasn't a one-time confrontation between the two drivers; they'd been banging fenders for more than a year.

But it was at Michigan that Spencer finally had enough -- and expressed his disdain for Busch with the force of his fist. Some have said that Busch had it coming to him -- and maybe have wondered what took Spencer so long to act.

Busch probably wasn't expecting to have his face turn into a target for Spencer's clenched fist. While I'm not condoning what Spencer did, I can understand it. If someone keeps rattling my cage over and over, sooner or later I'm going to react. It's human nature.

After Busch won Saturday's Sharpie 500 at Bristol (Tenn.), his fourth triumph of the season, it was one of the most subdued post-race celebrations in recent memory. There were no smoky doughnuts on the frontstretch, no overindulgence, no overt bragging. Busch simply drove straight into Victory Lane, smiled nicely for the cameras and tried to be the picture of the perfect Winston Cup gentleman on the podium.

It was as if Busch didn't want to do even the slightest thing wrong; he didn't want to step out of line, lest he be further criticized in a season that has grown increasingly full of disparagement and ridicule.

	Busch might need to ponder a different approach.

Busch has been called brash, but I don't look at it that way. Rather, I think the Las Vegas native is a victim of a PR machine and answer-coaching gone haywire. He answers questions with the verbiage of a Wall Street executive rather than with a typical good ol' boy response. While crusty Winston Cup veterans like Rusty Wallace and Sterling Marlin may answer with steak and potato responses, Busch's responses are more along the lines of brie and chardonnay.

Sometimes after hearing one of Busch's long-winded answers, I almost expect him to break out in a refined British accent. He's not blue collar.

And even though he tried to be contrite after Saturday night's win, it seemed to me that Busch still doesn't quite get why he's become so vilified and was the object of tens of thousands of boos before, during and after the race at Bristol.

"There's some work to be done with building the trust back (of his competitors)," he admitted, but then promptly destroyed the good-natured intent of that statement when he followed it up with the following missive: "But all this criticism, I just have to embrace it with dignity and pride."

Embrace it with "dignity and pride?" I'm sorry, the young man still is in the dark here.

Busch would have earned a lot more respect if he would have said something like, "But all this criticism, I just have to prove to people that I'm not the spoiled brat or pain in the butt they think I am. I'm not a better person than anyone else. I put my pants on the same way as every other guy. But for some of the things I've done, I'm sorry."

But no, even in trying to be contrite, Busch still proffered little responsibility, refusing to accept blame for things he's done or been accused of doing.

If I was smacked in the mouth by Spencer, then proceeded to play the forlorn victim, only to be booed in the following race, I think it might finally hit me that maybe I need to take a long, hard look inside myself. Maybe my approach to racing (including thinking that it's OK to intentionally bang fenders to try and get an aerodynamic advantage over competitors, as Busch said at Michigan) isn't in sync with the other 42 drivers on the racetrack.

	"	He's a cocky, arrogant punk. He just has a really, really bad attitude. But he can wheel a race car. "
		— Kevin Harvick on Kurt Busch

Even with mounting criticism, we didn't see a new, reformed Busch at Bristol. He was back up to his old tricks when he spun Sterling Marlin midway through the race as the two were fighting for second place.

While Busch did say after the race he looked "like an idiot again" -- and apologized over the radio immediately afterward -- for his tangle with Marlin, only seconds later he somewhat made light of things by saying, "I really didn't mean to do it. I guess I have to go get a six-pack of Coors Light (the chief sponsor on Marlin's No. 40 Dodge) and go hang out with Sterling."

But Marlin wasn't having any of Busch's "apology." Just when it appeared Marlin would have a shot at not only his first win of the season and first triumph at what he considers his home racetrack, Busch took care of that with little hesitation.

"Just a bonehead move," Marlin said. "I don't guess Spencer got him hard enough."

Perhaps more than any other driver on the Cup circuit, Kevin Harvick made his disdain for Busch abundantly clear.

"He's a cocky, arrogant punk," Harvick said of Busch. "He just has a really, really bad attitude. But he can wheel a race car."

Harvick can identify quite a bit with what Busch is going through. Much like Busch this season, Harvick drew substantial criticism from fellow drivers and fans alike during his sophomore campaign last year for having a perceived attitude problem. He learned some valuable lessons and has emerged as a much different driver this season, with a better attitude and success as a result.

Busch could stand to learn a few lessons from what Harvick went through. In the process of defending himself more and more as the heat was turned up higher and higher upon him in 2002, Harvick wound up alienating more than a few people. But after a reflective off-season, he has made great strides in mending some of the fences he tore down, particularly with the media. In turn, he's gotten the respect he deserves for going from being a punk himself in the eyes of many to a downright gentleman.

Harvick learned rather quickly the wrongness of his ways and atoned for them. Busch is still learning, albeit much slower. But at the rate he's going, if he continues to make bonehead moves like he did with Marlin at Bristol, it's going to continue to be a long, hard road.

In Winston Cup, even if you have the kind of incredible talent that Busch has, you still have to get along to go along. If Busch thinks Cup racing is only about slamming into your competitors and criticizing other drivers, he's in the wrong business. He might want to consider demolition derby instead.

Jerry Bonkowski covers NASCAR for ESPN.com. He can be reached at Motorsportwriter@MSN.com