Coming home with a 2-0 series lead? Been there.

Leaving Staples up 3-0? Done that.

No reason we won’t do it again.

Though the St. Louis Blues will have something to say about it, people in St. Louis speak not with words but with… with… um… oh hell I don’t care enough about the city to make a culturally relevant remark. They like curving, functionally meaningless architecture, stole a football team and that’s about it. I don’t expect that type of dullness to take form through their team’s play tonight, but I do expect them to play the game of simpletons and to leave with fewer wins than their city has tourist attractions. If ever there was a city to forget, it’s St. Louis, and if there is a team to be forgotten this 2nd round, it’s the Blues.

Nonetheless, the Los Angeles Kings must not take their success lightly. Tonight will be the hardest game of the series. After being plastered in the first period of game 2, the Blues proved themselves to be capable of playing until the final buzzer with determination, reckless abandon and focused hostility. Brown will be targeted. Doughty will be hunted. As we cracked thunder and lightning upon them when last game opened, there will be a blitzkrieg tonight.

If the Kings have proven one thing this playoffs it is that they can withstand an attack. They are fortified, deeply entrenched in their system and their confidence rides on diamond steeds.

This game can define the series. St. Louis can get themselves back into this series, regain even footing at home ice and go into Sunday with the ability to render the first 4 games a wash. Or they can be decimated, left more crippled, battered and bruised than a mouthy woman after dating Matthew Barnaby, Patrick Roy and Joe Corvo. Game 1 Quick got away with a crime. Game 2 we slapped them around. Game 3 is the kick to the face.

I don’t use the analogy of violence lightly. I want some retaliation. Not in the traditional sense of “hey that was dirty so I’m going to slash you” plays that put you in the box, but in the grander scheme where revenge is exacted pointedly by Brown, King, Nolan and Doughty by way of crushing blows and timely, spirit-breaking goals.

David Backes must be stopped as the impregnable wall stops the wrecking ball. TJ Oshie must be rendered as irrelevant as his birth name. Andy McDonald must be bitch slapped as hard as his face is priggish.

The Blues must fall.

I want goals, I want saves, I want stingy defense and grueling offense. I want Carter to snipe, Richards to aggravate, Doughty to dangle, Brown to lay waste, Kopitar to amaze and Quick to stone. I want a win.

It is for these things that we pray.

In the name of the Captain, the Son of Philly and the Holy Goalie.


Bless us Oh Hockey Gods, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through LA Kings, Our Team. Amen.

Blessed are You, Kings our Team and Team of our fathers, Team of Dionne, Team of Luc and Team of Gretzky, the great, mighty and awesome Team, exalted Team, who bestows bountiful goals, who creates all wins, who remembers the insanity of the fans, and who, in love, brings a redeemer to their fans’ children, for the sake of Our Kings.

Peace be upon no St. Louis fan, without mercy or blessing of Kings.

Holy Sutter, Holy Stevens;
We give you thanks
that your Schemes, Attitude and Leadership
Are manifest with Power and Pressure
throughout all zones,
within all lines,
and we accept your Tutelage now,
in defense and forecheck.

I pray to the wunderkind, the play-maker, destroyer of all cap space, the enemy of forwards, of great brilliance, the descendent of Orr and of Borque, the one who shines like the Dewey flower.

I invoke and call upon thee O Father Mitchell,
Lord of long stick, Master of all lanes and gaps.
I invite you to the blue line;
Defend it, sustain it, make it home.

Our Kings, who art on home ice
Hallowed be thy game.
Thy kingdom come, thy wills be done
On our ice as it was on theirs.
Give us this day our daily goals, and forgive no Blue their transgressions,
As we pound into submission those who trespass against us.
And lead us past the second round,
Past these evil Blues fucks.

Hail Kopi, full of grace, the fans are with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst players and blessed are the fruit of thy skills, goals.
Holy Kopi, dominant of centers, play for us sinners,
Now until the hour of our Cup.

Go fucking nuts.