Showdown At Texas Motor Speedway

originally posted 4/1/09 on FOXSports.com

HIGH 1:00p.m. CDT

Part 3 of The Digger Chronicles

It was a dark and stormy night as Digger the gopher tunneled his way to Texas Motor Speedway. It had been a month since a mysterious stranger had alerted Digger to a plot to let him have it at Texas by a cartel of NASCAR drivers, and after a close call with sharks at the Georgia Aquarium, Digger had gone to Washington D.C. asking to be put on the Endangered Species List, but his request was denied. Digger decided that his best course of action would be to lay low for a while and hope the whole thing would just blow over. Things didn't blow over, and two weeks after the Atlanta race, Digger received an e-mail from TMS president Eddie Gossage asking for the gopher's help with a new infield golf course. Everything was coming together just as the mysterious stranger had foretold.

As he neared the speedway, Digger wondered what would be in store for him at the track. He tunneled under the gates and headed for the Hollywood Hotel.

"Maybe I can get Myers, Hammond, and DW to stand with me," Digger thought to himself. "After all, DW saved me from the sharks in Atlanta."

Digger ran into Chris Myers first. "Mr. Myers, you've got to help me! RC and some of the drivers are going to let me have it in the infield while we're here!"

"Digger, you're all wet," Myers told the rodent. "But seriously, I kid because I care.

I wish I could help you out, but I have an exclusive interview with Jerry Jones. He's going to give me all the inside details on his plans to screw up the Cowboys this year."

Digger sat down and waited for Hammond and DW to show up. Soon, the two commentators walked into the studio.

"Hey, Digger, buddy! What's up?" DW asked.

"RC and some of the drivers are gonna let me have it in the infield!"

"Let you have what?" Hammond asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that they're gonna let me have it in the infield while we're here, and if I don't show up, they're gonna send Elliot Sadler's hounds after me! Please, you have to help me!" Digger pleaded.

"Sorry Digger, but we're meeting Larry Mac at Billy Bob's. We've got a date with a mechanical bull." Hammond replied.

"Boogity, boogity, boogity! Let's go bull riding, boys!" DW exclaimed as he and Hammond walked out the door. Digger soon realized that he would have to face RC and the drivers alone.

*****

Meanwhile, on a grassy knoll in downtown Dallas, Richard Childress and the drivers were meeting to finalize their plans.

"Ok, Martin. Were you able to get us what we need?" Childress asked driver Martin Truex, Jr.

"Well, Bass Pro Shops helped us out as best they could. There were some things on that list they just don't carry." Truex replied.

"It's not a problem," commented Juan Pablo Montoya. "What he couldn't get from them, I was able to get from Target,"

"I've got the dogs in place," said Elliot Sadler, "but I'm tellin' ya right now you guys are gonna have to take some of 'em back to Charlotte with you. There just ain't enough room for me and 69 dogs on that plane!."

Tony Stewart had been examining an object in the back of Childress's SUV when he turned to address Sadler.

"Don't look at me, dude. I'm not listening to those dogs bay at my cats all the way home." Stewart returned to examining the object. "Uh, guys," Tony said, turning his attention back to the group, "we're going to have to come up with an alternate plan. The range on these things isn't quite what we expected."

"I guess we'll just have to have us an old fashioned western show down right there in the infield." Kyle Busch said trying to mimmick a Texas drawl. "Anybody squeamish about doing this thing face to face." The other drivers shook their heads.

"Ok, let's get this thing over with." Kurt Busch said, and with that, the drivers disbanded.

*****

The drivers returned to the track just in time to hear the announcement they had been waiting for:
"Digger, please meet Mr. Gossage in the infield. Digger, please meet Mr. Gossage in the infield."
The drivers took their places and waited. Digger knew the hour had come. He took a deep breath and headed for the infield. As soon as he got there, he was surrounded by the drivers.

"Ok, gopher. Say your prayers." Kurt Busch said. Digger's knees were knocking.

"You've chomped your last tire," Tony Stewart said as the drivers raised their weapons.

"Hasta la vista, gopher." commented Juan Pablo Montoya as the drivers took aim.

"Ok, boys. Let him have it!" Childress commanded. Digger closed his eyes and held his breath

As the drivers turned to go back to the motorcoach lot, Chris Myers- fresh from his interview- came strolling across the infield.

"See, Digger. I told you you were all wet." Myers said as he looked down at the water logged gopher.

Digger looked up at Myers, shook his fist, muttered something in gopher, then squished off to the hair and makeup trailer to get dried off.

WHAT???
YOU WERE EXPECTING REAL GUNS???

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.

Giving the Fans What They Want

originally posted 2/27/09 on FOXSports.com

NASCARfellas

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.”