Are ya nervous? Excited? Titilated?

Did you have nightmares? Wake up with a cold sweat? Did you even sleep at all?

I spent yesterday remembering those two game sevens against Colorado in 2001 and 2002 and how much better this Kings team is than that one. I remember sitting on the edge of the coffee table, wishing beyond a dream, hoping against hope, that the Kings would luck out a win.

Tonight I will be teetering on the edge of my seat. But the wishes and the hopes will remain a memory. Though my nerves may shatter continuously every moment the Kings do not possess the puck, my confidence could never be higher. This Kings team is one that does not creep in the shadow of challenges, it is one that meets them with a straight brow and small snarl. In fact, the more I think about it, I am glad this Kings team gets to play a game seven. After having won a Stanley Cup, there are few beasts yet to be slain. We haven’t faced an elimination game since 2011 against these very same San Jose Sharks.

With new endeavors come renewed vigor.

I’m excited to see how Darryl Sutter’s Kings face down a game 7.

I’m excited for a new experience with my Kings family.

We’ll analyze later. Now we wait, we prime ourselves, fortify our vocal chords and narrow our gaze.

And we pray for our Kings, for a new brand of rejoicing, for safe passage to the Conference Finals and for one hell of a hockey game.

Our Kings, who art on home ice,
Hallow be thy game seven.
Thy Kingdom must come, for our wills pray it be done,
On this ice and for these fans, as it was three times hence.
Give us this night our fair share of the goals,
And forgive us our failures on the road, as we forgive ourselves for giving Shark fans false hope.
And lead us not to the driving range, but deliver us to the Conference Finals.

Let’s leave work early, make the game on time and see that the walls shudder from the drop of the puck to the final buzzer. Ignore all things teal and cheer all under the crown.

And if I need to tell you to go nuts, you need to sell your ticket to someone else.

Because there’s no greater reason in hockey than a game seven to go fucking nuts.

So go fucking nuts.