It's been eight long years since my sad little hockey team got to play a game past the second week of April. I'd totally forgotten what playoff hockey feels like. But after walking into Staples Center Monday night, and realizing that my sad little team ain't so sad anymore, I'm starting to remember a feeling I haven't really had since the Spring of 1993. I remember us playing Calgary in round 1, and that little shit Theron Fleury trying to jump out of the penalty box to attack Kings fans over the glass. We won in seven games. My seats were about four rows from the top of the Forum. Round 2 was against our current foes, the Vancouver Canuckleheads. Round 3, against the Toronto Maple Leafs... seven hard games, went down to the nail-biting wire. I remember seeing Dave Taylor, who spent his whole career with the Kings winning nothing, standing next to the Campbell Conference trophy in the locker room beaming from ear to ear. Then the Finals. One happy win against Montreal. Then there was Marty McSorely's curved stick, followed by that arrogant ass Patrick Roy winking at Tomas Sandstrom through his goalie mask as he gloved what should have been a sure-goal. Then it was over. I remember crying in my parent's living room and my mom telling me to get over it... it was just a game.
No, no it's not.
GO KINGS GO!
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