The O goes winning! O Yeah!

Despite overall team behavior dangerously and obviously not organized by Soberding's accountant-watch, The O and the Crush took power for the 32nd year in a row, defecating all over San Franciscan dreams in the process.  This year was peculiar, however, in the horribly negligent process in which we went about our way in securing the W.  Honestly, it must have seemed like we were hung over.  Thirty seconds before the gun sounded, Chopkins could be found frolicking around a nearby meadow and "couldn't be bothered" by that individual crown he was to secure.  Big Bob forgot that he didn't forget his singlet, and proceeded to rip the sleeves off of Ascott's long sleeve in order to at least be a blue-collar badass, if not disqualified.  Ascott failed to "proper tie" his shoe, which became untied about 200m into the foray.  Kip City's leg, like the shoelace, decided it didn't really want to serve its function, and it just kind of stopped working.


But what a save by Snowdi, who was rewarded by treats (shitty pretzels) being thrust between airplane seats for him to secure by means of jutting his lips out and thus reeling in the goods.

As meek as The O is, we secured an interview, asking how he won his race (something along the lines of): "Yeh, I did'nt realize I was allowed to do that.  I thought that if I beat the bloody Yanks in a footrace, the guys would'nt like me.  When I saw Kip City bugger off I figured it was bloody well time to, well you know, actually try for the first time this season.  MMmm!"  He proceeded to observe things no one else paid attention to while making sounds of interest.