Friday, June 26, 2009

Giving the Fans What They Want

originally posted 2/27/09 on

Part I of "The Digger Chronicles"

It was a dark and stormy night. In a smoke-filled private room in the Sahara Hotel casino, 6 of NASCAR’s finest sat playing poker. What looked like an innocent game of cards, however, was in reality something much more sinister. The group had come together to discuss plans for eliminating a nuisance that had come to plague NASCAR racing.

“Let’s get on with this,” said Kurt Busch, a former NASCAR champion and Las Vegas native. His younger brother, Kyle, nodded in agreement.
“I agree with them,” chimed in Martin Truex, Jr. “We need to get back to the track before we’re missed.”

“Patience, gentlemen, patience,” counseled Tony Stewart, two-time champion and self professed leader of this motley band of desperados. “We can’t do anything until Mr. Big arrives.”

“I don’t like this,” said a shadowy figure lurking in one corner of the room. It was Juan Pablo Montoya. “Mr. Big should have been here by now. They’re on to us, I tell you.”
“Relax, Juan Pablo,” Elliot Sadler remarked in his laid back Virginia drawl. “Mr. Big’ll be here.”
“Why would he?” questioned the younger Busch. “Something like this is beneath a man of his experience.”

“That’s exactly why we need him,” explained Stewart. “This shouldn’t pose a problem for him given his background.

Suddenly, the door of the room flew open, and in walked Richard Childress. “Gentlemen," he said as he acknowledged the drivers in the room, “we all know why we’re here. The question is ‘are we all in agreement?’”
“He cost me two cars at Daytona,” Stewart said.

“He’s even more annoying than my brother,” noted the elder Busch. Kyle responded by punching Kurt in the arm.

“He does seem to show up at some really weird places,” added Truex.

“The fans think he should have been taken out a long time ago,” Sadler told the group. “They say he ruins their enjoyment of the race.”

“So, RC, how do you propose we go about eliminating the little pest?” asked Stewart.
“Well, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think the best way to get him is an ambush.” Childress said.

“Ambush? Are you sure that’s going to work?” pondered Montoya.

“Are you questioning my ability, Juan Pablo?” Childress snapped back. “I’ll have you know I was going after bigger things than him while you were still swilling champagne in F1.”

“So what’s the plan?” Kurt Busch inquired.

“He’s going to receive an e-mail from Eddie Gossage saying that Eddie needs his help designing a golf course in the Texas Motor Speedway infield.” Childress began.

“When he shows up, we’ll all be up in the spotters’ stand waiting. As soon as he’s alone, we let him have it. Martin, will Bass Pro Shops be able to get us everything we need?”

“No problem, RC,” replied Truex.

“What if he doesn’t show up in the infield?” Kyle asked.

“That’s where Elliot’s dogs come in. They’ll chase him in and keep him there.” Childress answered.

“That is if the sound of 69 hound dogs comin’ after him don’t give him a heart attack first.” Sadler chuckled.

"Any more questions?” Childress asked.

“No, I think that about covers it.” Stewart said.
“Good.” Childress retorted. “Then it’s all settled. Digger the gopher gets it when we get to Texas.”

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