My superstitions are real, damn it.

On Monday, I ran two miles and then ate two pieces of chicken at El Pollo Loco. The Kings went on to win their second game of the series.

On Wednesday, I was about to stop running when I hit two miles, but thought “fuck it, a third mile for our third win”. I then ate three pieces of chicken at El Pollo Loco. Unsurprisingly, the Kings then won their third game. Related? Obviously.

I’ve never run four miles straight before. I’m a writer and video editor, neither of which necessitate getting off your ass for more than a trip to the fridge. Three miles almost killed me. Four pieces of chicken won’t be a problem, but you know what? For the Kings, I’m gonna run four miles today. Not because I want to, but because I have to. Because if I didn’t and we lost I’d never forgive myself.

But we won’t lose.

I’ll run four miles, I’ll eat four pieces of chicken at El Pollo Loco and I’ll wear the same exact clothing, from underwear to jersey, for the fourth consecutive time and we will win our fourth game of the series. With all that I’m doing, it’s amazing they bother to even play the game. We’ve basically already won.

What are you doing to help ensure victory?

Now for the fourth time, we pray our new prayer.

Our Kings, these defending Stanley Cup Champion Kings, who art in the motherfucking playoffs,
Hallowed be thy game tonight.
Thy Kingdom come if thy wills will be done,
On our ice, because it’s time to face a new team.
Give us this day our goals, however many are needed,
So that we may forgive ourselves for playing too often in our own zone.
And in the meantime give these dicks from St. Louis a sound slapping.
That we may be led past the first round,
Past these ugly ass Blues,

Let’s shatter glass and pierce our neighbor’s eardrums. Beat our chests and celebrate crisp passes, crushing blows and dance under flashing red lights.

Let’s go watch some damn Kings playoff hockey.

And go fucking nuts.