I thought Bobby was going to write a post game. He didn’t.

I’m not quite sober enough to write coherent. So I won’t.

What I do know is that the Kings own the Blues. Why did I want this matchup before the season ended? You got your answer tonight.

Frustrated. Incapacitated. Lacerated.

This is with an off game by Quick. Neither goal he gave were of the quality variety. Quick didn’t need to be spectacular, though he was solid. The defense suffocated like pillows to an unwanted vegetable. The offense cashed in like an ex to a cheater with gold dust blinding the vision of misshapen an ill-begotten eyes.

The Kings controlled. The Blues chased. Oh sure we went into prevent mode for about 5 minutes of the 3rd period, allowed St. Louis a hopeful goal. But no more. As the Mexicans in front of me yelled throughout the game, ‘no mas chingara!’… Or maybe it was ‘tu es stupido!’… No, no wait it was ‘shut the fuck up you asshole gringo’.

I would be the asshole gringo of reference. Not sure why. Perhaps it has something to do with why my skull throbs and inner ears plea with my conscious to not do whatever level of screaming I did tonight.

It was a lot.

The Kings did a lot.

I don’t need to tell you about the game. You either saw it, or you need to see it.

For now, enjoy, as I enjoyed the game and the victory drinks courtesy of Nick in 318 and reader Gymm (that’s not me being drunk) Jymm (turns out that was me being drunk) who treated my party to food and beer in a lounge at the Marriott. Good times. But how could this Kings’ run be anything other than good?

It’s not. It’s great.

I’m so excited. I just can’t hide it. I know, I know, I know, aw fuck it all bring on Sunday.

As overtime demons were excised in the round of the first, so shall the afternoon succubus be banished this second.












PS- you may have heard me on Kings Talk rant about starting a social media brigade, outcry, uproar, what-have-you, and know that I was dead serious. It will commence tomorrow. Gird yourselves and be prepared to take up the call.

Fuck Brian Hayward.

Fuck NBC’s exclusivity.

Excellence of broadcasting shall reign as the Kings dominion imposes.

Let’s Go Kings

Clap. Clap. Clapclapclap.