A non sequitur.

I brought my fiancé to the game. She doesn’t come to many, this being her first of the season. She has to do her girly thing during the second intermission and it takes a girly amount of time, meaning she misses Mitchell’s and Brown’s goals in the third. She finally arrives and starts to walk up the isle of section 315… While play is in progress. What is a guy to do? Being a man of principle, there is only one thing to do. I yell. “You can’t walk up here during play!”. Meanwhile she’s shoving her way past disgruntled Kings fans. Shame on my household, on my good Surly name. Mrs. Surly, reinforcing her man’s namesake. As she sits down, that constant thorn in our side Daymond Langkow scores.

So you can blame one goal against on Mrs. Surly.

The other two, you can blame on Quick, or if you are feeling more venomous, as I texted to Scribe, “Raffi Cocksuck fuckface asslick dickhole bitchtaint Torres.”. Now that the requisite cursing and griping is out of the way, we can finally discuss the game.

Did you watch the front of net presence like I asked? It was there the first period, as was some awesome team speed by the Kings. The second and much of the third were a story called “Dave Tippett Team’s Ferocious Forecheck” and our net presence, along with most of our forecheck tailed off. Once the Coyotes pressured the Kings into difficulty on the breakout, the sluggishness meandered its way into the Kings own forecheck. I saw the team revert to playing the perimeter game. This is where the gift of Labarbera was given.

That guy, as we all remember, is just so damn generous. So giving. He gives the glove side, the blocker side and oh, the fivehole. He brought enough fivehole for everyone to share, unlike some assholes with their gum. Dustin Brown’s game winning goal, a wrister from an angle to the goal line I measure to be about 20 degrees, brought back so memories I could have cried. But I didn’t cry, I applauded Jason all the way to his bench.

Let us not discount some fabulous effort by our team in our derision of former shamed Kings. I could mention a few, but will only mention one. Anze Kopitar. That was as dominant a game as Kopi has played this season. He took over shifts, particularly the one leading to Scuderi’s goal, in such fashion as to make all other centers in the league look average. Joe Thornton? Please, he wishes he had Anze’s good looks.

I asked that we score more than 2 goals and win in regulation. I also asked for the gnarly tea set I was given yesterday. I’ve learned I should ask for things more often. I think the most amusing aspect of tonight is that 3 of our goals came off shots by defenseman and neither Doughty nor Johnson took any of those 3 shots. I think the moral of that story is that Greene is a slacker.

Here’s another story. The LA Kings were off to a fine start. They were the prized pick of the pundits. They floundered. They fell. Their coach was canned. They got uglier and as a result, fiercer. They started winning games again. Out of the playoffs they climbed, back to a perch from where 15 other teams could be seen. Somewhere along the way Jarret Stoll scored a goal. Ok, now I’ve gone too far.

Am I crazy to want Bernier to play in Chicago?

Let us hope Gagne is OK, not that he has done much of anything lately. More importantly, David Courtney didn’t announce the second or third period, so let us send him our positive vibes as well. The same vibes that have made the Kings winners of 4 of their last 6 games, gainers of 9 of the last 12 possible points. We are due to beat the damn Blackhawks.

Go Kings Go.