My NASCAR Off-Week

originally posted 3/11/09 on FOXSports.com

MR. DIGGER GOES TO WASHINGTON

Part II of "The Digger Chronicles"

It was a dark and stormy night. Somewhere in the midwest, Digger the NASCAR on FOX racing gopher was burrowing his way back east for the race in Atlanta. He had mistakenly taken a left turn in Albuquerque, a mistake that would send his world into a tailspin. As he tunneled his way under the cornfields, a mysterious voice pierced the night air.

"Pssst. Hey you, gopher. Come here. I've got something for you."

Digger was a little hesitant. In Las Vegas, he had started hearing rumors about being ambushed. He approached the shadowy figure that had emerged from the cornfield cautiously.

“You might want to read this,” the stranger said, handing Digger a piece of paper before disappearing into the cornfield. Digger opened the paper. It read:

To: EG
From: RC
Operation Golf Course is a go. You know what to do.

Digger shuddered. The rumors he’d been hearing were true. A cartel of NASCAR drivers- along with team owner Richard Childress- was out to get him. The fact that this nefarious gang wouldn’t act until the Texas race offered him little comfort. Digger continued tunneling toward Atlanta, trying to figure out how to thwart the cartel’s plans.

In Atlanta, Digger’s anxiety increased substantially. On a visit to the Georgia Aquarium, Digger found himself swimming in the hammerhead shark tank.

While the police investigation proved inconclusive, Digger was sure he had been pushed. To Digger, this incident just further cemented the idea that he was in extreme danger. He had to do something, but what? Digger was thankful that the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series would be taking off the week following the Atlanta race. It would give him time to formulate a plan.

On his way back to Charlotte, Digger stopped for a drink. He explained his dilemma to a Carolina northern flying squirrel who was also at the stream.

“Digger,” the squirrel began, “you definitely have a problem on your hand, but I think I have the perfect solution for you. You need to get your little gopher self on the Endangered Species List. It’s great. Once you’re on that list, no one- and I mean NO ONE- can touch you.”

“Are you sure it will work?” the gopher questioned.

“Absolutely!” replied the squirrel. “I’m on the list myself.”

Digger thanked the squirrel and continued on his way. He knew what he had to do, so he bypassed Charlotte and continued on to Washington D.C.

* * * * *

When Digger arrived in Washington, he immediately set out to meet with the President. He felt sure that the new administration would sympathize with his plight and put him on the Endangered Species List. He popped up on the south lawn of the White House where he was immediately set upon by the First Family’s new dog.

Fortunately for Digger, he was soon swarmed by Secret Service agents who escorted him to a room inside the White House. Once the agents were satisfied that Digger was not a threat, they took him to meet with the President.

“What can I do for you, Digger?” the president asked.

Well, M-m-mister P-p-president,” Digger stammered, “I want you to put me on the Endangered Species List. They’re gonna let me have it at Texas if you don’t.”

“I feel your dilemma, Digger, I really do. Unfortunately, I can’t just put you on the list. There have to be studies done and hearings on Capitol Hill before any species can be listed as endangered.” The gopher’s heart sank. “What I will do,” the president continued, “is set up a Congressional Hearing to discuss your request.”

Digger thanked the President and tunneled his way to the Capitol hearing room where the Congress would consider his request.

The hearing was called to order, and Digger presented his case. The Congressmen listened politely as Digger outlined the plot against him. When he finished, the Congressmen took turns addressing the issue.

“Mr. Chairman,” one Congressman began, “while I empathize with Mr. Digger’s problem, there are many other species whose survival is more essential to the environment- species so rare that were they to become extinct, it would most certainly be a tragedy for the whole of humanity.”

“I agree with my learned colleague,” echoed another. “The research clearly shows that cartoon rodents ARE NOT an endangered species. Let’s look at a few examples, shall we? This fella here routinely outwits one Tom Cat, while this other one constantly runs circles around Sylvester.”

“And if that weren’t enough, these two have been giving Donald Duck fits for years!"

"Oops, wrong Chip and Dale. Let’s try that again."

“There, that’s better. Now as I was saying, I cannot in good conscience vote to put Mr. Digger on the Endangered Species List.” the Congressman said in concluding his remarks.

“But you don’t understand," Digger shouted, “THEY’RE GONNA LET ME HAVE IT AT TEXAS!!!!”

Finally the Chairman spoke. “While we all sympathize with Mr. Digger, we cannot put him on the Endangered Species List. If we put every annoying creature on the list, I dare say, a good many of us would find ourselves listed. The motion to list Digger as an endangered species is denied; however, the evidence does show that cartoon nemeses are seriously threatened. Therefore, effective immediately, Tom Cat, Donald Duck, and Sylvester will be listed as endangered species and afforded all the protections of the law."

Digger left the hearing room dejected. If the government wouldn’t help him, then who could he turn to? He would have to face the Driver Cartel on his own, and with that thought, he began tunneling his way to the next race at Bristol.