In the presence of greatness!

A shadowy subterranean hallway. Two men (wearing each other's shirts, but that's a different story) stand gazing in reverence at a spotlit plaque, hung in a place of honor, wear resides, none other than the NBBBC Cup trophy itself, engraved with it's holder and nigh-unbeatable three-time winner, Matty "The Dead Albatross" Armbrustmacher's, name. An electric tingle is in the air, and though lacking the proper white cotton gloves to actually touch the sacred relic, each man's hands raise subconciously, clenched in greedy anticipation...for tonight battle is joined! The Maillot Monsieur Pomme (de terre) is up for grabs, a mere symbol of the glory that awaits the vainquer, for the Maillot goes to the leader, and as Sean has learned to his chagrin, the leader for most of the race does not equal the WINNER, and the winner walks away with the NBBBC Cup trophy! Only Lord Stanley himself could resist it's magnetic draw, and only later in life at that, when he'd been reduced to a mere syphilictic shadow of his former self... 5:50pm to-night! Prepare for rumbling! -M