In order to show the disorganization of Watershed Industries four years ago, picture a sailboat without a sail or rudder, taking on five liters of water every minute.  The Oh-It-Will-Work-Itself-Out Plan was not keeping Watershed Industries afloat. Having read of a new managerial tool in Forbes Magazine, it was decided that The Upper Arlington Memorial Day 5 Mile Run would decide a leader and subsequent chain of command.

Band members, crew, and close friends began training for the chance to mop the poop deck, batten down the hatches, and other sailing metaphors.  Those competing for the Captain's chair were Colin (guitar/vocals); Dave (drum kit); Joe (bass/vocals); Biggie (greases the wheels); Skippy (slips in the grease); local artist, Tom Linzell; local lawn broker, Randy Butler; and international efficiency expert, Mark "Mr.Swifty" Renz.

The months leading up to the "fun" run were fueled by intense training coupled with intense shit talking, but as Competition Day drew closer, their numbers slowly fell.  Colin proclaimed the race wouldn't resolve anything.  This statement incited a barrage of slanderous accusations upon his character.  With a cracked voice, he whimpered that he "ain't gotta run in no stupid race to prove nothin' to nobody."  Dave remembered that he was the drummer, and in Watershed, like in The Police and Rush, the drummer rules all, and no amount of athletic bureaucracy would change that.

The morning of the race, the tension was tighter than Mark's hamstring.  As the others warmed up, Biggie arrived with a dozen doughnuts in one hand and a quart of milk in the other.  "Shit, no, I'm not running in this fuckin' thing," he said, gnawing on a bear claw.   "I was just in it for the ball bustin'."

35 minutes, 40 seconds later, a leader was realized. Mark "Mr. Swifty" Renz not only achieved race bragging rights, but took control of S.S. Watershed.  A time of 39 minutes, 15 seconds garnered Joe First Mate status.  Since nobody really knew what came after First Mate, Tom did not receive a title with his third place time of 42 minutes, 59 seconds.   However, Mark looked upon him favorably and would confer with him regarding the band's art direction and stage appearance.

Randy and Skippy found no such admiration from the new leader.  Randy finished with a time of 2 hours, 13 minutes, 45 seconds, narrowly beating out the one-legged man and finishing in a dead heat with the wheelchair granny and the retarded 8 year old.  Skippy never saw the finish line.   In an effort to gain control of the band through shenanigans, he dropped back in Mile 2, turned around, and ran back toward the start/finish line.  Unfamiliar with the neighborhood hosting the run, he got lost in the winding streets of the Upper Arlington suburb and was found three weeks later with two fingers missing and an inexplicable fear of kiddie pools.

Before the sweat had even dried from his brow, Cap'n Renz laid off 150 Watershed employees, broke free from the lease of the expansive office space Watershed was renting, and wrote "Can't Be Myself", "Anniversary", and "Mercurochrome".  Surprisingly, Skippy's job was spared. "He amuses me," Cap'n Renz often said.

It's been four years since Cap'n Renz took the helm of the rickety Watershed tugboat destined for Davey Jones' locker.   Three reorganizations and several chord changes later, Watershed is now an iron-sided destroyer, crushing weaker bands with their wake.

Kudos, Cap'n Renz.  Rock and Roll thanks you.