THE CHASE IS ON!
Back By Popular Demand, It’s Time For Fizzy’s Nascar Commentary!
Wasn’t that a great title? Didn’t it just make it sound like people were beating on my door at all hours, begging me to crank out another Nascar column? Well, how do you know they weren’t, big brain? All right, so they weren’t, at least not after 2:00 A.M., but people did seem to enjoy my last two Nascar columns, and I had fun writing them, and since, once again, ordinary life reared its ugly head and forced me to neglect the Fizzbunker for far too long … Well, it just seemed like a good idea to do another one.
Perfect timing, too, because here we are, poised at the start of another exciting Chase For The Alltel Nextel No-Tell Motel Cup! Is the piss just running down your leg from the excitement, or what?!
Me neither. Really, folks, I’m about done with this whole Chase For The Cup gimmick. Every year, the buildup to the final ten races of the season is more and more forced. In 2004, the maiden voyage of this brilliant idea, Jeremy Mayfield had to WIN at Richmond in order to squeeze into the last available spot in contention for the championship, and by golly and by gosh, he fucking did it! This year, things were different. For one thing, in his never-ending quest to tinker with everything imaginable in order to manufacture more fake suspense, Nascar CEO Brian France decided that, instead of the top ten drivers vieing for the Cup, it would be the top twelve. Turned out to be a smart move, in the short term, because all of the original ten spots were mathematically locked in by the end of the Labor Day race, and there would have been no suspense whatsoever regarding the Chase at Richmond. Not that there was much suspense anyway? I mean, did you really think Kurt Busch and Kevin Harvick were somehow not going to make it? If so, well, ha ha, your boy Dale Earnhardt, JR., didn’t make it. Again. Ha ha ha!
But is it really going to make it any more exciting to have twelve drivers in the Chase, instead of ten? My personal theory is that the extra two positions were created just in case Junior couldn’t hack it again. I smell the meddlesome hand of sponsors and advertising behind all this. Junior, after all, is one of the most popular drivers in Nascar now, if not THE most popular. And when Junior didn’t make the Chase last year, you can bet untold numbers of red-shirt-wearing buffoons loudly swore off watching the remaining races, taking it as a personal injustice that their boy wasn’t automatically allowed in, on account of who his daddy was. And Nascar is scared to death of the Junior Nation. Even if they were just full of shit and tuned into every race anyway (which of course they did), Nascar convinced itself that it was losing money and ratings without Little E figuring prominently in Chase coverage. So they featured him prominently anyway. And still, they trembled in their shoes, and went to bed with tears on the pillow worried about what disapproving phone calls would await them the next morning from sponsors. And the sponsors, being equally big and equally scared of losing one single potential customer, surely did complain.
So Brian France wakes up one morning and says, “I know what I’ll do! I’ll make the top TWELVE drivers eligible for the Chase, instead of ten. I hope the kid can at least handle THAT! Then I’ll throw in a few wrinkles about the points system for good measure, to make sure nobody really understands it for sure.”
And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived. No, not the Chase, dummy! I mean it’s time for my predictions for the final ten races. And keep in mind, all of these have at least a 1% chance of actually happening.
September 16, New Hampshire: “Well, I hope you’re happy, mister!” head Nascar enforcer Mike Helton fumes over the phone. “We’ve gone to a lot of trouble to try and help you out, and this is how you thank us!” At the other end of the line, Dale Earnhardt, Jr., mutters, “I’m sorry, sir. It ain’t my fault. Really, it ain’t. The Bitch is trying to sabotage me again.” He is referring, of course, toTeresa Earnhardt, his stepmother and the owner of his race car, with whom he doesn’t get along particularly well. The situation has only been made worse by Junior’s signing with Hendrick Motorsports in 2008, leaving Teresa with a marquee ride to fill, and no marquee driver waiting to fill it. “Her again?” Helton demands in exasperation. “Fuck it. I’ll have Brian talk to her about it.” And so Brian France appears on Mrs. Earnhardt’s doorstep, hat in hand. Teresa seems surprised wen told the reason for the visit. “Dale? I’m GLAD to get rid of that spoiled little brat! I’m sick of his smart mouth and smug attitude! Big E always loved me better anyway. But come in, come in. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a man come and visit.” France finds himself tugged into the house, and the door shut firmly behind him. Meanwhile, at the track, the race is won by Jimmie Johnson, whose narrow victory over soon-to-be ex-teammate Kyle Busch sparks all sorts of rumors about owner Rick Hendrick “playing favorites.” One source produces a tape of Busch’s in-car radio, which he claims to feature Hendrick telling his young driver to “pull over and let a real man by. Next year, I’m going to take home a trophy every goddamn week, while you’re still trying to master your chopsticks.” Hendrick denies saying anything of the sort.
September 23, Dover: Scott Riggs posgs fails to qualify for yet another race. Car owner Ray Evernham stomps over as Riggs climbs dejectedly from the cockpit and says, “If you don’t get your ass in gear, I’m going to have to do some serious re-evaluating here. Do you want to be driving a rice-burner like your buddy Jeremy Mayfield?” Riggs starts to say something about how it couldn’t be much worse, but his boss is distracted by the tinny strains of Tom Petty’s “Here Comes My Girl” emanating from his jacket pocket. He retrieves his cell phone; its display reads “ERIN.” He hustles off behind some trailers to take the call. On race day, Juan Pablo Montoya attempts to go four-wide on the high-banked turns of Dover, causing a nasty wreck with Elliott Sadler, Robby Gordon and Greg Biffle. All three pinthe blame onMontoya. As he leaves the infield care center after the required post-wreck physical examination, Montoya claims it was “just one of those racing deals, man.” Robby Gordon is intercepted on his way to Victory Lane, even as the race continues. “Well, I WOULD have won if it wasn’t for that coffee-picking lunatic!” he insists. Mike Helton overhears this remark and immediately sends Gordon to sensitivity training. “These gratuitous racial slurs are a blot upon thn the sport, and I’m damned if I’ll sit idly by while this knucklehead insults one of our premier drivers.” Gordon must write an essay of at least 500 words on “The History Of Coffee Production, Consumption and Culture.”
September 30, Kansas: During the race, Tony Stewart unceremoniously shoves David Ragan’s car out of the way and into the path of several other cars.. The ensuing pileup causes such a mess that the race has to be red-flagged until all the debris can be cleaned off the track. Stewart, whose car was relatively undamaged, goes on to win the race. When asked about the Ragan incident, he says, “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? That was for last fall.” Ragan fumes, “I can’t believe he’s still holding onto that. I said I was sorry, dammit!” Stewart overhears a reporter talking about “Good Tony” and “Bad Tony,” and grabs him by the shirt, shouting, “I don’t’ appreciate you talking about my personal mental problems to the whole fucking world! And neither do I!”
October 7, Talladega: The battle rages on over who will take over the #8 Chevy in 2008, when Dale Earnhardt, Jr., leaves for Hendrick Motorsports. Teresa Earnhardt mentions in the press that she likes young Aric Almirola. “I think he has a lot of potential,” she says, “and I like nice latin boys.” An intuitive reporter seeks out Juan Pablo Montoya for his expert opinion on this comment, but Montoya merely winks broadly, licks his lips, and struts off, swinging his hips provocatively. Meanwhile, veteran Mark Martin says he’s “considering an offer from Teresa to get some saddle time.” Martin appears confused by the laughter that follows this remark. At the track, the expected “Big One” occurs on lap #98, when Jeff Burton’s spotter tells him to “take the high groove, you’re clear.” Burton switches lanes and is immediately rear-ended by Carl Edwards. Amid the chaos, the spotter moans, “Oh, shit! I meant the low groove!” Burton finishes 37th, and drops to eighth in the Chase standings. For his part, Edwards finishes 38th, and also loses precious ground in the quest for the Cup, yet he remains optimistic. “I love Talladega,” he says, neglecting the fact that he has never finished well there. “It’s a great track, and I’m always getting better. I was having so much fun! Whoooo-EE!”
October 14, Charlotte: More feathers fly between Hendrick Motorsports teammates this week when a victorious Kyle Busch raises his trophy in the direction of Rick Hendrick and crows, “In your face, bitch!” He attributes Jeff Gordon’s poor finish to “probably being up all night changing shitty diapers and rocking his damn baby.” Gordon responds, “Kyle’s a great driver and a great competitor, and he might be right at that, but I’ve had to put up with his whining for nearly three years now, so having a baby in the household is no big deal.” Meanwhile, a frustrated Jimmie Johnson, who finished 3rd, tells the media, “All I know is, I was supposed to win tonight.” When asked to elaborate, his appearance stiffens and he croaks, “The answer to your query is not programmed into my database. Lowe’s: Let’s Build Something Together.”
October 21, Martinsville: Something new appears as part of the official Nascar Library Collection: Two Of Me: The Unauthorized Tony Stewart Story. It details Stewart’s history of psychiatric problems, dating back to junior high school. Stewart, predictably, is furious. He storms into Brian France’s office, demanding that the book be recalled and Nascar officially renounce it. “Calm down, you two,” Brian says. “This is really a great public-relations campaign. See, the people will see you as a sympathetic figure if we let them think you have some mild mental illness. You’re still catching flak for that episode at Kansas a few weeks ago, you know. This is a great way to win you back some fans, AND educate the public about multiple personality disorder at the same time. Whaddya think?” Stewart thunders, “That is THE STUPIDEST fucking idea I’ve ever heard in my life!” France is unintimidated by the outburst. “Okay, Bad Tony, you’re on record. Now can I talk to Good Tony, please?” On Sunday, Robby Gordon again crowns himself the winner, despite the fact that he was four laps down. “But I was the first car to take the checkers,” he insists. Security has to physically remove him from Victory Lane. Mile Helton is enraged. “Look here, you son of a bitch! I won’t allow you to continue to undermine this sport. These stupid games of yours have got to stop!” In a press conference the following morning, Gordon concedes that maybe he didn’t win after all. “But,” he says, “it’s just another example of Nascar’s campaign against small, independent teams.” Jeff Green finishes 3rd, but nobody notices.
October 28, Atlanta: The racing world is abuzz with the persistent talk of Indy circuit star Danica Patrick possibly signing with Nascar for a full-time position. Speed TV convenes a panel of experts to discuss the issue. Ray Evernhma expresses great interest, presumably in signing her to drive the #10 car, which is almost sure to be vacated by Scott Riggs. Richard Petty repeats his view that women’s bodies are simply not up to the physical strain of driving a race car for five hundred miles. Evernham looks confused. “Drive?” he asks. “Who said anything about driving. Kyle Busch agrees. “I’d pop it till it’s purple!” he shouts. Kasey Kahne is less sure. “She’s a little old for me,” he says. Petty shakes his head in disgust and fumbles a packet of Goody’s out of his shirt pocket. On the track, Juan Pablo Montoya plows into Kevin Harvick, sending them both to the garage. It takes Harvick’s entire pit crew to keep him from attacking Montoya. Half an hour later, still barely composed, Harvick speaks to reporters, invoking the words of celebrated football coach Norm Van Brocklin: “We need to tighten the goddamn immigration laws in this country.” Montoya pleads no contest. “What can I say, man?” he grins. “I was just thinking about that Danica Patrick, man, and I guess I must’ve got loose. That’s racin’!”
November 4, Texas: The search continues for the next driver of the #8 car. Teresa Earnhardt reaches out to current semi-star Kasey Kahne, asking, “Wouldn’t you like to come work for me? Theer’s a lot I cn teach you, you know.” Kahne appears uncomfortable and bolts from the room as soon as possible. He rushes past reporters, saying he can’t stop to talk or he’ll be late for the Hillary Duff concert. Later, a planned interview segment featuring Tony Stewart and Jimmy Spencer erupts into a fistfight when Spencer broaches the topic of Stewart and his Joe Gibbs Racing cohorts driving Toyotas next year. At one point, Spencer calls Stewart a “fat fuck traitor piece of shit.” Stewart pins him and yells into his face, “Listen up, you washed-up old dickwad! You can’t talk to me like that! I’m not fucking Kurt Busch, okay?” “Oh no? Then who are you, Good Tony or Bad Tony?” Kurt Busch, misunderstanding, is quick to defend his manhood. “Of course he’s not fucking me,” he says indignantly.” “I’m a man’s man. Why, just yesterday, I put in a new septic system all by myself.” Proving once again that he works best under a cloud, Stewart goes on to win the race, but disaster strikes, as it did last year, when he does his customary fence-climbing stunt. He suddenly turns white as a ghost and begins trembling and whimpering. “I’m scared of heights,” he squeaks. His shrink is brought out to talk him down.
November 11, Phoenix: Rick Hendrick corners Tony Stewart after qualifying. “Look. How about driving for me when your contract is up?” he asks. “You don’t want to be running 30th all year, and driving one of those Japmobiles, that’s just what it’s going to be. Why don’t’ you come to an organization that already has signed the other three top stars in Nascar. With you onboard, I swear, I’d rule the … I mean, Hendrick Motorsports would cement their status as the top team in racing.” “What about Casey Mears?” Stewart asks? “Oh, fuck him,” Hendrick says, waving his hand. “He can go drive for Bobby Ginn or something.” “I heard that team went belly-up and Ginn’s not in the game anymore,” Stewart says, dimly recalling the three-month-old news. “Well, whatever,” Hendrick says. “So whaddya say?” Stewart shrugs. “We’l think about it,” he says. Race day is spiced up by the absence of Robby Gordon, who qualified his usual 41st, but fails to show up for the race. A frantic search turns up Ward Burton to act as emergency fill-in driver for the #7. “I ain’t quite sure how to work this here newfangled doo-hickey,” he says, inspecting the controls of the so-called Car Of Tomorrow,Nascar’s latest brainchild, which he has had very little opportunity to drive. His inexperience with the new car proves calamitous on the track, when he loses control and careens across the track and directly into his brother Jeff. With this second wreck in the Chase, any chance of capturing the Cup is now a dashed hope for the younger Burton. Yet he appears remarkably composed as the battered wreck of his car is towed into the garage. “Let’s take it out behind the woodshed,” he says to Ward. Meanwhile, Jeff Gordon goes to Victory Lane, where he is greeted by none other than the non-related Robby Gordon, freshly showered and smartly dressed. “Yeah,” Robby tells the crowd, “I’m sure I would’ve won today, if my alarm clock had gone off.” “What is WRONG with this guy?” Jeff demands, his voice cracking. Robby continues, “I’d like to thank all my sponsors, my family, and my dog Buster, for pulling the plug out of the wall and helping to make this day possible.” Mike Helton himself appears, putting Gordon in a headlock in midsentence and dragging him from the circle of cameras. “This is it!” he says through gritted teeth. “This is absolutely fucking IT!”
November 18, Homestead: The 2007 Alltel Nextel No-Tell Motel Cup season winds down this weekend, with several not-so-shocking announcements. First,Mark Martin has agreed to share driving duties with Aric Almirola in Teresa Earnhardt’s #8 Chevy. “But I mean it this time,” he warns the jubilant fans. “This is really going to be my last year. For real!” As ffor Almirola, he doesn’t seem disappointed by not getting a full-time ride. “Trust me,” says a girlishly smiling Teresa, “he won’t be bored on his weekends off.” Next up, Tony Stewart has agreed to sign with Hendrick Motorsports for the upcoming season. Joe Gibbs immediately begins legal proceedings to force Stewart to finish out the remainder of his contract. One reporter suggests that maybe Gibbs and Hendrick can work out some sort of arrangement where Good Tony drives for Hendrick one week, and Bad Tony drives for Gibbs, and then they can switch. Stewart dissolves into tears and runs from the room, wailing “I hate you! You don’t care about me! You can all JUST FUCK OFF AND DIE!” Absent once again ffrom the festivities is Robby Gordon, who will be spending the weekend as Mike Helton’s personal guest. The race is a nailbiter, and ten laps before the end, Robby jumps up, saying, “Look, Mr. H., it’s just so exciting, I gotta take a piss. I’ll be right back!” Ten minutes later, he turns up … in Victory Lane once again, smiling and waving, and saying, “If I’d been allowed to participate in today’s race, I’d be out there doing doughnuts. But I’m here anyway, and I want to say how great it is to be able to accept this trophy,and thank all my fans, who make it all possible!”
November 30, New York City: Everybody who’s anybody in the Nascar world turns out for the awards banquet at the Waldorf-Astoria. The new Alltell Nextel No-Tell Motel Cup champion is Matt Kenseth, drawing howls of dissent from the Junior Nation. “But he only won one fuckin’ race!” is the general import of their outrage. “Don’t worry,” Brian France assures them from the podium. “Next year, the Chase For The Cup will include the top fifteen drivers, so there should be no problem. And I have another major announcement.” He pauses, waiting for silence. “Welcome, Honda, Nissan, and Acura!” “There is a loud crash from the back of the ballroom, as Jimmy Spencer takes his table and chair with him on his way to the floor. Meanwhile, Robby Gordon is barred from entering the building. Undeterred, he holds a press conference on the sidewalk outside, where he graciously accepts the championship.
Today’s inspirational song lyrics are courtesy of AC/DC: “You never know who’s gonna win until the race been won!”
