This down to the wire stuff with the Chase is absofreakinglutely killing me. Today at work I even referred to a co-worker (to a client no less) as Carl Edwards (completely by accident- his first name is Carl so I think I get a pass there). I have been referring to my boss as Tony (his name is NOT Tony so no excuse there- and don’t go getting all Freudian on me) for weeks. How do I explain to people that my fairly severe case of “CHASE BRAIN” will be gone after next Sunday?
As I took my seat before the race at Phoenix I had a case of butterflies that wouldn’t quell. I was almost more nervous during the race then I was that first time I interviewed Tony Stewart (and trust me- I was a BALL of nerves that day- just ask Misty). The actual race at Phoenix was a stress-fest because I felt the need to keep steady vigil on Tony and Carl and who was where and who led a lap and who led the most laps, who pitted when and how many tires they took and so on. People- I tried doing math in my head while at a track. MATH- IN MY HEAD! I am not a dumb person- but I am not great with numbers unless I have a calculator- or paper and pencil at the very least. The number 3 is taunting me…with our three point deficit on the points leader, Carl Edwards.
It isn’t helping that Tony and Carl can’t seem to break free from each other. They qualified for Phoenix Tony right in front of Carl. They finished Carl right in front of Tony. There has been virtually no separation between the two competitors. It is killing me! KILLING ME! I was hoping to go into Homestead with a couple of points on Carl and here we are sitting exactly where we were before the Phoenix race. I know I should be grateful that Tony didn’t fall further behind Carl- but I am not. I am bitter that we did NOT best him- it’s the sore loser in me…even though I was not the one who was racing.Yeah…so I am not the most graceful loser.
That damn duck on Carl’s firesuit mocks me…quacking THREE THREE THREE at me. A couple of years ago at Champions Week we got our hands on some little stuffed ducks that say AFLAC when you squeeze them. It’s been in my nephew’s toy box since I came home from champions week that year…but last night was the day he decided to play with it. AFLAC AFLAC AFLAC. That damn duck needs to go that is for sure. On the other hand- my oldest nephew discovered my 1:64 Tony Stewart diecasts up on the shelf and wanted to know “If they were real?” and “Why can’t I play with them?” because to him they look like matchbox cars.
Usually by this time in the season I am beginning to mourn the end of the season, already missing my racing fix until next February, and looking a head to a fresh season for Tony to kick ass in. However, I can NOT think that far ahead right now. Right now all I can think is:
By the way here are a couple of great articles about Tony in advance of the final race of the season:
Stewart Balances Life As Driver/Owner In Quest For Cup by Cary Estes
Tony Stewart Would Make A Best Cup Champ by Terry Blount