There's something about dudes cooking meat on an industrial-sized grill that somehow sets everything right in the universe. It's our version of yoga, spiritually aligning our various meridian points and chakras or whatever. Yet as an in-tuned with Mother Nature as it makes us, sometimes the old gal likes to throw a wrench in the plan. To quote Shakespeare: enter torrential downpour.

Presented with such obstacles, a lesser hombre would simply pack up, cut his losses and continue grilling on his kitchen stove. You know, like a sad, hollow shell of a human being. Not this guy. He's in it to win it. And win it he shall.

Win it he shall.