28 Because in a eld stacked with over 30 drivers — including names like Ryan O’Connor and Bryce Carter — Fergusson knows exactly where he stands. “I’ve got a massive target on my back,” he admits. “It’s like a nature documentary out there — and I’m the one being hunted.” NO PLAN, JUST SURVIVE Ask about strategy, and Fergusson doesn’t pretend to have one. “This is a Demo Derby — I’m basically driving a matchbox car,” he says. “The plan is full send and hope it holds together longer than anyone else.” It’s a brutally honest approach, but also a realistic one. In a sport where cars fold, engines die, and impacts come from every direction, survival is often the only metric that matters. Still, there’s one thing Fergusson refuses to compromise on. PUTTING ON A SHOW As someone who’s spent years behind the mic, Fergusson knows exactly what the Baypark crowd wants. “A great Derby is chaos — big hits, cars ying everywhere,” he says. “And yeah, I’m absolutely planning to put on a show.” There’s pressure that comes with that — especially when you’re part of the Baypark fabric — but it’s the kind he embraces. “I can’t just cruise around like I’m looking for a park at Pak’nSave. The crowd wants a show.” And he intends to deliver one. WHAT REALLY MATTERS Winning? Sure, it would be nice. But for Fergusson, success in the Derby isn’t measured in trophies. “If I can land one big hit that gets the crowd on their feet and Macau screaming in hysterics… and my car is still moving afterwards — that’s a win.” It’s a tting goal for a man who has spent years narrating the spectacle — and now nally gets to live it. Because this Saturday night, Tim Fergusson isn’t just calling the chaos. He is the chaos.
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