Bill Simmons at the Super Bowl

Here is a part of Bill Simmons's blog he posted today. It describes his participation in a celebrity go-cart race. It is beautiful.

That afternoon, I was asked to participate in the Cadillac Celebrity Go-Cart Race even though I'm not a celebrity. The event was held near the American Airlines Arena and featured celebs like Nick Lachey, Fergie, Josh Duhamel, Matt Leinart, Queen Latifah and others, all of whom were infinitely more famous than me. Before the race, I was talking to one of the PR people running the race and some "Access Hollywood" anchor named Tony Potts approched us. Apparently he won the race two years ago; you might remember reading about this in Celebrity Go-Cart Illustrated. When we were introduced, the PR person said, "Tony, do you have any advice for Bill?" After all, this was my first go-cart race -- seemed like an innocent conversation starter, right?

Here's what Tony tells me: "If you feel a tap on your bumper, it's either me, Tweeden or Duhamel. That means you need to get out of the way. And if you don't get out of the way, we'll spin you right out of there."

There were a couple of things I loved about this. First, he referred to the other two celebs (LeeAnn Tweeden and Josh Duhamel) by their last names, like they were professional athletes or something. Second, this blowhard was completely, totally, 100-percent serious. I swear to God. I know it's impossible to believe that someone could be this much of a d-bag, but believe me -- I have a witness. This happened. Third, did I mention that this was a celebrity go-cart race???? It was for charity!!!!!!!!! It's not like we were racing for a new Escalade. And fourth, he completely underestimated my competitiveness and driving acumen. Hell, I once went 120 miles an hour on the Merritt Parkway in a car that was 9 years old and had 105,000 miles on it. Now I was supposed to be afraid of an anchor from "Inside Hollywood?" Er, "Access Hollywood?" Please.

I pretended not to be perturbed, waited for him to leave, confirmed with the PR person that he was completely serious -- he was -- then made plans to run him off the road like Bo Duke. Any chance of me calming down was erased during the "safety lecture" before the race started, when they went over the track and all the precautions -- including how it's not good to bump other drivers -- and Tweeden and Potts (two of the last three winners) sat in the front row cracking jokes like, "just stay out of our way and you won't get hurt" and getting a little TOO into it. They were like the too-cool-for-school kids, only the school wasn't that cool. Again, this was a celebrity f***ing go-cart race.

They broke the groups into five heats, with my heat coming last -- I was in a foursome with Leinart (who looked like death warmed over and a possible threat to puke in his helmet), Lachey (who's constantly smiling, like he can't believe he's having sex with someone who enjoys it) and some girl from "Heroes" who had a lot of letters in her last name. Normally I would have been favored but I was bordering on being legally drunk from the night before. Plus, size dictates who wins go-cart races; someone like Tweeden (40-50 pounds lighter than everyone else) or Lachey (light for a guy) possesses a distinct advantage over heavier people like Leinart, Shawne Merriman (who was allowed to race since they didn't have drug-testing) and Queen Latifah (sorry, I had to). And since the top two advanced to the semis, I knew I'd advance as long as I didn't crash ... which I didn't, finishing second behind Lachey (the weight thing again).

(Note: In the Pantheon of "Things We Don't Do With Our Buddies Nearly Enough": Driving go-karts has to rank right up there with football tailgates, bowling and miniature golf skins games for $50 per hole. Pass your mid-20's and none of these things are ever suggested or broached again -- yet it's a guaranteed afternoon of fun every time. Come on, what's better than zooming around a track trying to intentionally injure your friends? Nothing, I say.)

Now the semis roll around. As fate would have it, Potts wasn't just in my heat ... our cars were side to side in the front row, with Potts to my right. And as fate would have it, Potts's lane partially closed about 125 feet ahead, so if he didn't get out in front of me at the start, either he'd have to jump behind me as we passed through the smaller space, or he'd have to trust that I wouldn't run him into the sand bags to his right.

Of course, I planned on veering right and pushing him into the sand bags. The mere scenario had me so giddy, I could barely keep a straight face. It was like the Celebrity Go-Cart Gods had put this right on a platter for me. Right before the race, he looked over at me and I looked back blankly, with part of me wanting to make the Sprewell throat-cutting gesture (I held off). So the starter yells, "Ready..." and Tony starts revving his engine like an ass. Again, it's a f***ing go-cart. Then the starter yells "set ..." and wouldn't you know it, this sleazeball jumps the gun and takes off. By the time the starter said "Go," he had a two-second headstart on everyone, which they would never penalize him for because, again, it's a celebrity f***ing go-cart race.

(This seems like a good time to mention that the winner of this race got to give $10,000 for their favorite charity -- I was driving for the Jimmy Fund -- and this slimeball cheated to get a jumpstart in the semis. How do you cheat in a celebrity go-cart race for charity???? How does this happen??? I expected so much more from a guy who lives in Hollywood and hosts a syndicated entertainment/gossip show.)

Anyway, I took off like a bat out of hell trying to catch him. And since the race lasted for only five laps, it wasn't looking good. Three laps in, he's still about 50 feet ahead of me but coasting because he has a top-two spot locked up. I'm comfortably ahead of the two cars behind me and have the other Finals spot all but locked up -- it would have been me, Duhamel, Potts and Tweeden, ironically enough. But that wasn't cutting it. I was just close enough that it was conceivable I could catch him from behind, spin him out and possibly kill him ... which, in all honesty, would have been my happiest moment of 2007. And I'm flying around the track hitting the big 90-degree turn on Lap 4, but I'm going a little too fast, and ... skiddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd.

I spin out.

Not egregiously, but just enough that the last two cars pass me and I have to settle for fourth. The lesson, as always: Don't let your temper get the best of you during a celebrity go-cart race.

As for the finals, I couldn't even bear to watch -- Tweeden ended up winning again (remember, the weight thing) and seemed far too happy about it, spraying champagne over everyone in Winners Row like she had just won the Daytona 500. Whatever. Go shoot another calendar, honey. The good news was that she won the race by spinning out a seething Tony Potts, who was mildly furious afterwards but played it off like it was all fun and games. No way. He was definitely ticked. And frankly, so was I. You know you're sulking at a celebrity event when Queen Latifah comes over to cheer you up.

Where does this leave me and Tony, you ask? Well, I'm going to one of those four-day driving schools to learn all the tricks. No, seriously. That's how competitive I am. Maybe I have a bad back and had to retire from basketball, but I can still drive cars and go-karts, right? Next year, I'm getting revenge on Tony -- whether it happens in a go-kart race, a stoplight on Wilshire, the 405 or wherever else -- and if it leads to one of those "Days of Thunder"-type messes where we're ramming into each other's cars in public for 20 blocks, so be it.