This year promises to be Preakness at its most torrential. Rain upon rain in the week leading up to the race, and potentailly during the big race itself. The track will turn to cake batter. Women wearing spring dresses and expensive hats will slip and fall in the mud. At least one shirtless man will try to bring back the running of the urinals, and he, too, will slip and fall. Someone should really call his mother.