I once watched a grown man dive face-first into a steaming pile of horse manure to win Super Bowl tickets. It was not a cute little bag of reconstituted farm-grade fertilizer. Oh no. This was a 4-foot deep pile of rank, foul-smelling horse poop. And knowing that his golden ticket to the biggest sporting event of the year lay at the bottom of that mountain, the guy bored in happily, grinning from ear to ear (big mistake) only to emerge moments later screaming for joy.