I met Greg Pinel at a bar in Manhattan back in late March. It was a corner joint on the far east side in the shadows of the Queensboro Bridge (or the 59th St Bridge, depending on what side of it you call home). On a lead from a British friend of mine, I was drinking at 10 a.m. on a Saturday to kickoff that day’s two Six Nations Rugby matches over in Europe. There were fewer than two hands' worth of fingers needed to count the other Americans at this bar. Greg was seated next