Sometimes, poetry yields to profanity.
Profane was Jack Johnson’s turnover.
Profane was the mental and stature challenged midget in stripes waiving off Alexei Ponikarovsky’s goal when Ponikarovsky was clear as crystal violently shoved into Ray Emery for everyone other than the white cane, no able fool to see. I enjoyed watching said fool one faceoff later view a couple of the six replays shown on the big screen as his incompetence projected to all in full display. Lest we also forget the clear trip of Wayne Simmonds everyone else observed in real time but was not called and the penalty Dustin Brown drew that should have been a penalty shot.
Profane was Terry Murray not learning after the 5th or 10th shift, end of first and second or at any other point in the game that our first line was mighty successful when on the ice against their second through fourth. Mighty as in dominating and in total control of the puck within the offensive zone. Just once I would like to see Murray out coach the suit on the other bench. Just once.
Profane, as my comrade Surly pointed out, is the end of the ice the LA Kings don’t shoot twice. Someone check the net or the goal inducing forces within because opponents have pillaged Jonathan Quick the last two games. Jonathan Bernier should start the next game.
Most profane was Corey Perry’s game winning goal in overtime which started with a sniper taking out Anze Kopitar at the other end.
This one stung. It vibrated from my heart to my lips until all I could bark was ****!! and then seek to relate to a knife wielding madman’s rage in search of rubber bullets.
To my Kings, I humbly wish not for more, but better. The season’s fate is firmly at the tip of your stick. Shoot to score. Seize the W with the night. GO KINGS!