It’s Jug week and everyone else from Ontario is in Delaware, OH. Gee, good for them. They may be at the Jug, but I have a Jug. Okay, it’s not really my Jug, but it’s in my office. There it is, perched safely but rather unceremoniously atop my filing cabinet, between a bottle of Opti-Clear and a stick of deodorant. Seems wrong on so many levels, doesn’t it?

As I obsess about why I haven’t yet moved this cherished racing relic into the Grand River Raceway display cabinet where it clearly belongs, I marvel a bit at its power. I mean, really — stand back and look at the thing. It’s a brown jug. Plain. Ordinary. Nondescript. It borders on hideous.

And yet, it has the power to bring thousands to their knees and make grown men cry. Wow.

The Jug belongs to Ron Waples, from his 1983 win with Ralph Hanover. I know Waples won’t be offended by the current placement of his Jug alongside my personal hygiene products. I’ve seen his trophy collection: potpourri in his Hambletonian, cooking utensils in his Meadowlands Pace.

I acquired the Jug at Georgian Downs a few months ago. Ron let Grand River Raceway borrow it as a prop for an LBJ trip giveaway. Frankly, I didn’t want to be responsible for its transport, but it was a convenient spot for the hand-off. As he took it from his truck, I made a joke about dropping it. He didn’t really laugh.

As I walked across the backstretch clutching this LBJ tight around my chest like a lunatic, I quickly became aware of the looks. Is that a . . . ? What’s she doing with a . . . ? What the . . . ? I kept my firm grip, but stuck my feathers out some. That’s right, this is my Little Brown Jug. Yep, I’m carrying my LBJ around the backstretch — just takin’ it for a walk. Where’s your LBJ tonight? Oh right — you don’t have one.

It reminded me of strolling the halls in Grade 10 during the three days that I dated the school hottie. But, alas, the LBJ belongs to Ron Waples and Chad Simms belonged to Tamara Wilson.

Unlike Chad Simms, the LBJ trophy is perfectly homely, and perfect just as it is. The very sight of it (despite the look of it) conjures up all of the beauty, passion and pride associated with winning it.

Best wishes to all of the contenders in this week’s LBJ.