While in bed and reading about the merits of the slow motion practice method to the golf swing, I diverted my attention and checked my emails on my phone. Our source sent me an email at 10:57pm tonight…I read it at 11:32pm. I am typing this at 11:33pm.

You shouldn’t read this. Click away, go back to what you were doing. Please.


If you must know, we are now told everyone spoke on the phone today. The LA Kings and Drew Doughty have reached a deal. Take your grain of salt, add Excedrin or whatever suits your migraine needs…better yet, whiskey, neat.

I am telling you what I have been told. I am the messenger. If this is wrong, by all means, kill the messenger. I offer myself as the martyr. You bring the altar.

I don’t have the details. Our source has tried to get it but nothing yet and, quite frankly, I wasn’t even going to post this until we had the terms but it’s late and I felt compelled to tell you what I know despite the fact right now, somewhere, someone’s unmentionables may be getting in a twist. I obviously don’t know when the Kings will announce it. Will they wait until Fan Fest? That would be fun…a bit sadistic but fun.

If I were you, I would ignore this article and get some deserved sleep…I am now stuck trying to hide my head under pillows each time my phone makes a noise alerting me to a new text, trying to avoid checking emails, and I don’t want to hear the phone ring…a similar plight as our source. Anticipation of death is worse than death itself. Nothing to see here. Move along.

As a side note…Go Kings.