THE CHASE IS BETTER THAN THE CATCH!
Part II of Fizzy’s NASCAR Commentary, With Predictions For the Chase For the Cup, Week By Week
Greetings, Bunker-Rats! Once again, it’s been far too long since my last column. You have been clamoring for more missives from my fortified concrete home, and I am here to reward you.
Unless you don’t like racin’, in which case you’ll have to wait for the next edition of Fizzy’s Closet, which should be coming very shortly, along with some other stuff I’m cooking up, and hopefully don’t allow to boil over and make a huge mess and end up throwing out.
Anyway, it’s been almost five months since my first Nascar-related column, and as promised, I’m back with my predictions for the Chase For The Cup, as the final ten races of the season have come to be known.
Speaking of which, the more I think about it, the more pointless this whole “Chase” thing is seeming. So after twenty-six races, you suddenly make it so only the top ten drivers in terms of points are eligible to win the championship? What does that do, exactly? Why, it drums up lots of excitement in fans, even the fans who are smart enough to know that the Chase is 100% gimmick, and the brainchild of a bunch of people who were upset that Matt Kenseth won the championship in 2003 even though he only won one race that year, while Dale Earnhardt Jr. went home crying. Plus, it makes a few high-profile sponsors really happy, and that, more and more, is the most important thing.
So we’ve got our ten drivers for this year’s Chase. But before we get into the predictions, let me say that I was wrong in a great number of my predictions thus far. For one thing, Jeff Gordon is getting married. To a chick, no less. Well, how was I to know? And Carl Edwards hasn’t been accused of date rape … yet. But he has shown a definite dark side in recent weeks, with two rough-driving incidents and a burst of profanity, the latter directed at Dale Jr., who had just wrecked Edwards in order to win a race. You would think the assorted pundits and commentators would’ve had more to say about that little aspect of it, but no, they all wanted to talk about how Edwards had rammed Junior’s car during a cool-down lap. Goddamn, you would think Edwards was the bastard child of Bin Laden and Attila the Hun the way people carried on. They practically called for his head on a pike! Of course, Carl is back to his usual smiling self these days, and the first driver taken out of a race for rough driving ended up being Jeff Green, in what was probably the highlight of his career so far.
Anyway, there is one thing I was dead-on about, and that was Jeremy Mayfield. As you’ll recall (and if you don’t, go read the first column and see), I predicted that Mayfield would become increasingly estranged from team owner Ray Evernham, and would comment publicly on Evernham’s more or less leaving him twisting in the breeze. Mayfield did exactly that, and got fired for his trouble, and that’s when the real fun began, fun that not even I could have predicted. Damn if I don’t wish I did, though.
Mayfield filed a lawsuit against Evernham Motorsports, alleging that Brother Ray was unable to give the #19 team the support it needed to perform, because he was too busy overseeing his Craftsman Truck Series team, with particular attention to driver Erin Crocker. Oh yeah, Ray oversaw her all right. Changed her oil personally, taught her to drive a stick-shift, made sure her headlights were in proper working order, oiled up her bearings, tested her fuel-injection system, the whole nine yards. A thorough man, Ray Evernham. And while he was busy giving Crocker all this personal, one-on-one attention, Mayfield’s team was going to hell in a hatbox. Ray, completely embarrassed, tried to remedy the situation by smearing Mayfield, accusing him of performing poorly on purpose, and wrecking his car intentionally, just to spite him. As part of the settlement, the Erin Crocker affair is never to be mentioned again, at least by Mayfield.
And let me add further that not only did I foresee an acrimonious parting of the ways, but I even predicted that Mayfield would be going to Bill Davis Racing next year. And indeed he will. THAT’S how good I am! And I had been planning to shun all Toyota drivers like the clap, but dammit, I want Mayfield to go out there and kick some ass in 2007!
Oh yeah, Ray, and maybe you could take your paws off Erin and maybe put in a little work on the actual truck, because it doesn’t run worth a damn. Okay? You aren’t doing Crocker any favors; you’re just making her look like a whore and confirming some people’s suspicions that the only way for a chick to make it in auto-racing is by screwing the boss.
And now, at long last, on to the predictions!
September 17, New Hampshire: The soon-to-be Nextel Sprint PCS Cingular Verizon Wireless Motorola Mobile Cup Series makes its second stop at the New Hampshire International Speedway, kicking off the Chase For The Cup.Highly-favored Kevin Harvick surprises few by winning the race, his second in a row. In Victory Lane, he swills Gatorade and speaks exuberantly to reporters about his dominating performance. He is interrupted by his wife, DeLana, who announces, “You’re dribbling, Kevvy! Jeez, do you HAVE to be sucha slob? People are watching?” and moves forward to mop his chin with a napkin. Harvick blushes and appears about to say something, but before he can get out more than an annoyed “Awww …” another woman runs up and attempts to claw DeLana’s face, screaming something about ears. It is soon determined that the assailant is the new bride of kurt Busch, still smarting over Kevin Harvick’s poking fun at Busch for getting his ears pierced … months ago. NASCAR officials disagree on how to handle the situation. Mike Helton is in favor of banning Mrs. Harvick from the track for the rest of the season. “Let the bitch sit at home and watch the race on TV while she darns socks,” he says. But the always-forward-thinking Brian France says, “I think this could work as a regular post-race feature: the Trackside Catfight! See, we take the winner’s wife or girlfriend and put her up against the the spouse of the driver who got the toughest break that day. The fans could vote online for who they want to see duke it out!” He rushes off to work up a proposal.
September 24, Dover: Friday evening, after qualifying and practice sessions, Jimmie Johnson appears at the door of Jeff Gordon’s trailer, inviting him out for a “really smashing” night on the town in nearby Rehoboth Beach, a town with a reputation for supporting “alternative lifestyles.” “I’m sorry, Jimbo,” Jeff says politely, “but I’m a married man now. That part of my life is over.” Johnson flounces out in a huff, pausing to scream over his shoulder, “You were a lousy lay anyway!” The sound of sobbing soon emanates from Johnson’s trailer. Meanwhile, Morgan Shepherd, under D-Day’s Revenge sponsorship for the second week, qualifies thirty-sixth. During the race, Shepherd brings the car in for a pit stop, actually intending to go back out on the track for the first time in many moons, when disaster strikes. The long blond hair of one crew member becomes entangled in one of the lug nuts after a tire change, and he is dragged nearly twenty feet before the other crew members, waving their arms frantically, are able to get Shepherd to stop the car. The crew member, identified only as “Fizz,” is taken to a local hospital, treated for cuts and bruises and is released. He tells a reporter that he just wants to get a beer and a cheeseburger. Shepherd, due to the slow pit stop, falls off the lead lap and finishes 39th. Later, in a meeting with his new sponsor, he says, “I don’t think this thing’s going to work out,” but offers some valuable tips on training squirrels, should any of the D-Day’s Revenge crew take a notion to do such a thing.
October 1, Talladega: Once again, the Big One is sparked by Dale Earnhardt, Jr. With three laps to go, Junior attempts to force his way to the front of the field by spinning out the unfortunate Jeff Burton. A massive pileup ensues, but Junior wins the race. He is greeted with a chorus of boos in Victory Lane. But then, the unthinkable happens. As a shocked Junior puts it later, “If looks could kill, man, I’d be toes-up, covered in dirt about now. I can understand why Jeff might be a little unhappy, but man, did he have to glare at me like that?” Numerous NASCAR writers immediately demand that Burton be punished for looking daggers at Junior, causing him untold fear and discomfort. Mike Helton elects to let Burton off with a stern warning. “We need to send a message,” he tells reporters later. “These drivers have simply GOT to keep their tempers under control. I’m worried somebody might get hurt.”
October 8, Kansas City: Dale Jr. finishes nineteenth in this singularly boring race. Red shirts are dampened everywhere as the Junior Nation weeps, then lays the blame squarely at the feet of Jeff Burton.” You skeered him so’s he’s afeard to race anymore!” screams one disgruntled fan, reeking of Budweiser and minus several teeth. The man, one Curtis “Skeeter” McAdoo of McAllester, Oklahoma, is hustled away by security, but not before informing Burton that “bad shit’s gonna happen to you! Dale Sr.’s lookin’ down on you, just a-shakin’ his finger.” Later that night in his hotel room, Burton slips in the shower and narrowly escapes plunging headfirst through the glass door.
October 14, Charlotte: Lowe’s representatives and NASCAR officials are becoming increasingly worried about Jimmie Johnson. Ever since he had heated words with teammate Jeff Gordon at Dover, Johnson has finished three consecutive races outside the top 20. If there’s ever a place to turn things around, Lowe’s Motor Speedway is that place. Brian France assures Lowe’s that “We’ll do whatever we can to help Jimmie through this.” Sure enough, Johnson wins the race, although observant fans notice several cars simply pulling over and letting him by. Other fans report hearing NASCAR officials on their scanners, telling drivers, “Here comes Jimmie, you know what to do!” At one point, this command was followed up with, “Jesus, Mark [Martin], couldn’t you have at least pretended to race him instead of making it look so OBVIOUS?!” In Victory Lane, Johnson, smiling broadly, says, “There are a lot of people I’d like to thank, and one person who doesn’t deserve any thanks whatsoever, and you know who you are, Shorty.” Jeff Gordon immediately takes to wearing lifts in his shoes.
October 22, Martinsville: “I want to try something different,’ Ray Evernham tells reporters. “This week, I’m taking Scott Riggs out of the #10 car. His performance on short tracks just hasn’t been where it should be.” Instead, Evernham plans to put Erin Crocker behind the wheel. “Come on up here, cupcake,” he calls, and A photographer fortuitously captures a shot of Evernham squeezing the ass of the blushing Crocker as she comes to the podium. During her remarks, she refers to Evernham as “Uncle Ray” twice. During the race, which she starts thirty-second, she loses control of the car and slams the outside wall, wadding up the car and collecting the luckless J.J. Yeley and Dave Blaney. Evernham attributes the wreck to simple, hard, short-track racing. “Frammin’ and bammin’, man!” Ray says, smiling ruefully, his arm around Crocker’s shoulders and hand surreptitiously fondling her breast. Back on the track, during the normal course of said frammin’ and bammin’, Sterling Marlin uses the word “shithead” over his radio, in reference to Jeff Gordon, who has just spun him out. Marlin is immediately black-flagged by NASCAR, and told to load up his car. “Your day is done,’ a somber Mike Helton informs him. “You can’t behave so aggressively toward a four-time champion. It just ain’t gonna happen. Not on my watch. No sir!”
October 29, Atlanta: Carl Edwards and Tony Stewart, two drivers who had a nasty on-track incident in July, are racing for the win in the closing laps of the race. Stewart tries everything possible to try and get past Edwards for the lead, all to no avail. Undaunted, Stewart proceeds to follow Edwards around the track during the latter’s victory lap, which morphs into a high-speed chase before thousands of fans. Stewart is heard screaming incoeherently over his radio, while NASCAR officials take turns barking ineffectual orders for him to stop. Carl Edwards can be heard shouting for help over HIS radio. Finally, after ten terrifying laps, Edwards runs out of gas. Cackling madly, Stewart drives up and rams the #99 repeatedly. His tires are finally shot out by police, and he is hauled from the car. “I don’t know what happened there,” he tells reporters on the steps of the police station, after being released on $10,000 bond. “We were racing hard, and in the heat of the moment, I guess I just lost control there for a minute. Carl’s a great driver and has great teeth.” Edwards, too shaky to do his customary victory backflip, waves feebly to the crowd before wobbling into his hauler.
November 5, Texas: “You wait and see,” says Joe Gibbs, owner of Tony Stewart’s car. “Tony always bounces back from adversity. Pressure only makes him work harder. He’s going to go out there and get it done this week, just watch.” Meanwhile, the Washington Redskins, for whom Gibbs is supposed to be head coach, suffer a near-comical loss at home against Dallas, with a score of 44-6. But Gibbs is right about one thing. Tony Stewart owns the track on this day, and it’s no surprise to anybody when he triumphantly climbs the fence after winning the race. Unfortunately, his foot slips, and he plummets into a crowd of eager fans. Carl Edwards fans, that is. He is saved from serious injury by quick-thinking security personnel, who pull him to safety suffering only a broken nose and assorted bruises. “I tell you what,” Stewart says later, speaking to reporters in the emergency room, his voice muffled by several feet of gauze packed inside his nose, “NASCAR needs to do something about these fucking asshole fans. It’s getting crazy out there!”
November 12, Phoenix: Keen observers notice that Kasey Kahne’s voice is a little more high-pitched than usual in his pre-race comments. Also, he appears to be a couple inches shorter. Th truth comes out when a sharp-eared track worker hears frantic pounding and yelling coming from the #9 trailer. The REAL Kasey Kahne has been “sequestered” therein, wearing only his tighty-whities, while the person inside the #9 race suit turns out to be none other than Erin Crocker. “It was Uncle Ray’s idea,” she claims, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “He has a thing for girls in racing uniforms,” she continues, in what is sure to be the understatement of the year. Kasey Kahne is not amused. “I’m in the goddamn CHASE, for Chrissake!” he yells at Evernham. Ray scowls at him and barks, “Don’t you sass me, buster! You want to wind up like your buddy Jeremy Mayfield? I hear Bill Davis has another ride open.” Kahne looks at the floor and mutters, “No sir.” All this has caused the race to be held up for an hour and a half. NASCAR eventually decides that, because of a technicality involving the entry lists, Evernham is unable to replace Kahne in the #9 car, and Crocker is fined 100 Craftsman Truck Series points. “But I only have 77,” she sobs. “Anyway, I told you! It was HIS idea!” Evernham is banned from the garage for the remainder of the season. “Two races, whoopty-doo!” he sneers as he is escorted away.
November 19, Homestead: The NASCAR Nextel Sprint PCS Cingular Verizon Wireless Motorola Mobile Cup Series finally wraps up here in South Florida. Today, the champion will be crowned. And the winner is: Matt Kenseth, proving to one and all that he is indeed worthy of the title. ‘I can do it with only one victory, or I can do it with half a dozen,” he beams. Missing the championship by a scant four points is veteran Mark Martin, who says, “Maybe I should’ve raced Jimmie [Johnson] a little harder at Charlotte after all.” When asked about his future plans, Martin, who has been trumpeting his “final season” for two years running, breaks the news. He has been offered the job of driving the #88 UPS Ford for Robert Yates Racing. “The offer was just too good,” Martin says. “It’s a one-year contract, and then I’m gonna hang up my helmet.” But nobody believes him. Meanwhile, Kenseth’s championship has provoked the rage of the Junior Nation, and the fans of Jeff Gordon and Jimmie Johnson, all of whom were unjustly denied the Cup, according to their respective fans. Brian France promises to make some changes in the Chase format next year. “Maybe we’ll award more points for a win. Maybe we’ll allow the top fifteen drivers in the Chase instead of ten. Maybe we’ll have a lottery. Maybe we can let you fans at home vote on who you want in the Chase, just like American Idol! It’ll be a great way for fans to get involved and show their support, and great exposure for our sponsors. Stay tuned! This is gonna be fun!”
Today’s inspirations song lyrics come courtesy of Motorhead:
“Come on honey, let me get you in the sack—you know the chase is better than the catch!”
