Early Monday morning, I texted a Monster Energy NASCAR Cup Series crew chief. Why? Because I was worried about him. Sort of.

I typed: "HEY BRO, U OK?"

He responded quickly: "NO."

You see, he made a swing-for-the-fences strategic call on Sunday afternoon at Loudon, and he missed. And he was far from alone. He made it because he had to. His team is one of the many that currently find themselves looking like they are in one of those old, black-and-white college photos of teenagers struggling to see how many people they can cram into a phone booth.

The crew chief I texted both arrived and departed New Hampshire Motor Speedway as one of the people standing outside that phone booth, scratching his head trying to figure out where and how he might squeeze in. At the end of that race, he was forced to watch yet another colleague, Denny Hamlin's crew chief, Mike Wheeler, become the latest to solve the problem of how to shove his driver into NASCAR's playoff box.

I typed: "U GET ANY SLEEP LAST NIGHT?"

He responded, again quickly: "NO. HVNT SLEPT ALL SUMMER."

I typed: "SORRY MAN."

He responded, this time not as quickly: "LOL NO UR NOT"

OK, he's right. I'm not. The truth is, I like to watch him squirm. I like to see him uncomfortable. I like to see his driver spend every race weekend looking like his shorts are too tight.

There are so many teams in the same situation that I'm not giving up the name of the guy I texted because it's unnecessary. Anyone reading this can guess at the person's identity all he wants, but the reality is that there are so many teams in the same position that you could start guessing now and keep going for the next hour. Matt Kenseth ... Joey Logano ... Dale Earnhardt Jr. ... Clint Bowyer ... Kyle Busch ... Erik Jones ... the list is not short.

With only seven races remaining before the Chase, er, playoffs, there have been 11 winners, which leaves a wad of drivers clustered around the coveted 16th points position. There is an even larger pack in the ''gotta win or else" category who don't really have a prayer at climbing far enough up the standings to get in the old-fashioned way.

Thus, the constant throwing up of more Hail Marys than a Doug Flutie tribute dinner.

Over the past eight weeks, there have been eight different winners from eight different teams. Throw in a Joey Logano-encumbered win (in other words, it doesn't really count) and the fact that the guy who has led the standings most of the season, Kyle Larson, suddenly can't get through a tech inspection, and it feels like no one is immune to issues. Have I mentioned that we still have no actual idea what effect stage wins and bonuses will have on the playoffs once they arrive?

The result of all the above has been total chaos. ... total, beautiful, delicious chaos.

"Since the win-and-in part of the Chase era started, the great thing about it has been that your chance to make the playoff never goes away," said Jamie McMurray, one of those bubble drivers who has shown remarkable consistency this season but is still winless. "The problem is that if a couple of other guys do the win-and-in thing, all that does is it makes it more difficult on the rest of us to do the win-and-in thing. When you hit Indy and start turning that calendar to August, the pressure becomes pretty brutal."

"You always want to win races, and it's always been super hard to win races," he continued. "But in this situation, maybe you'll really try something crazy to win one because that one win saves your whole season."

In other words, all teams start the season hoping to be Jimmie Johnson, circa 2006. But right now, most would settle for being Chris Buescher, circa 2016. And yes, that includes some of the biggest names in the sport.

But isn't this how it's supposed to be? After all, we are talking about the postseason of a professional sport. The gateway into that postseason, the first giant step toward possibly winning a championship, shouldn't be wide open. It should be a funnel. It should feel like trying to cram 30 race cars into a box designed for only 16 -- because that's what it is.

Tony GIbson has seen plenty in his decades in NASCAR, and one of the things he has repeatedly seen is the pressure to perform. Jared C. Tilton/Getty Images

Superstars should have to sweat it out down the stretch, and at the end of that stretch, some of those stars should be left out. This isn't participation trophy time. This is giant silver cup time. You gotta earn it, and earning it means sleepless nights and pain.

But before you start accusing me of being a meanie, a man who relishes seeing people writhing in discomfort like some sort of motorsports media center Christian Grey, keep in mind that the people I enjoy watching suffer, deep down, they kind of dig it, too.

"This gig is supposed to be hard, man," crew chief Tony Gibson told me earlier this season. "If this job isn't wearing you out or keeping you up worrying on a daily basis, then you're either doing it wrong, or you're having a season so crappy it doesn't matter."

The crew chief they call "Old Man" has been knocking around the Cup garage longer than any other atop-the-pit-box boss. He has worked for notoriously competitive -- and notoriously miserable -- legends such as Alan Kulwicki, Bill Elliott, Ray Evernham, Tony Stewart and his current driver, Kurt Busch.

Thanks to Busch's Daytona 500 victory in February, their playoff berth was clinched long ago. Even still, a spring struggle has left the folks who work on the No. 41 car scrambling to get their act together in time for the postseason.

"If I wanted to just be comfortable, then I'd be doing something else for a living," Gibson said. "But guess what? I don't want to be doing something else for a living. I want to race. And I want to win championships."

When I worked with Rusty Wallace at ESPN, we were in a production meeting together when the topic was the pressure of making the playoffs. The NASCAR Hall of Famer got so lathered up over a soundbite from a current driver about unfair Chase pressure that he nearly started shouting.

"This s--- ain't easy, man!" he said. "It's not supposed to easy! It's dangerous, and it's hard, and it's exhausting. I worked my ass off for 30 f---ing years, and I only won one championship. Had my damn heart broken another half-dozen times coming so close and not winning it.

"If racing was easy, then everyone would do it. Hell, McGee over there would do it. ... No offense, man."

No offense was taken. Rusty was right. Just like Old Man Gibson is right, and Jamie McMurray is right, and I am right, right now.

It's supposed to be hard, and it is hard. That's why I enjoy watching, and that's why I'm gonna enjoy watching a lot of people suffer great agony over the coming weeks, especially my crew chief buddy.

I texted that guy again just as I finished this column.

I typed: "UR REALLY MISERABLE AREN'T U?"

He responded: "HELL YES I AM."

I typed: "BUT U LOVE IT, RIGHT?"

He fired back, in his quickest response yet: "HELL YES I DO."