I know when I’ve done wrong. I don’t shy away from responsibility. I refuse to let stubbornness disinfect a critical, viral change.
Shit needs to change. The Kings, as myself.
We all know what went wrong in game 1. “Everything” sums it up nicely. Always good to be succinct. Much vitriol has been thrown Robyn Regehr’s way, with Mike Richards and Dustin Brown skulking close behind in the feces gallery. Scapegoats are for losers.
Team failures can not be distilled to rest on the laurels of singular efforts. Individual performances are of course, always a factor. Sure, tell me Regehr was worse than the rest and I’ll tell you that herpes is more noticeable on blondes. I’m as disappointed in Kopitar and Quick as I am with Regehr, Richards or Brown. The former two are expected to be elite but were mediocre. The latter three were not good, but their expectation is to be good. Equally disparate offenses in my eyes.
Am I one to be negative? Belabor yesterday’s mistakes? Momentarily, sure. All things, from your modem to your marriage, at some point, must be reset. So to, the Kings.
Today is a new game. Game one only means as much as we allow game two to reaffirm or invalidate it.
The lines seem to be remaining the same. I find this infuriating. However, again, this speaks to the reflexivity of individual performances. The lines matter only so much as they differentiate themselves from the median of the group. Their import arises inversely to the substance of singular efforts. Combinations are stagnant but this does not preclude renewal of execution.
There isn’t much use in pointing out what the Kings can do better. While I attribute a shade of the Sharks’ game one dominance to their own home-induced hyperactivity, assuredness is the most critical aspect of the Kings’ game they need to reclaim.
For myself and my sins.
Whilst I meant no scorn to be lain at the feet of the gods of puck, a dismissal of ritual rippled across the ice ether nonetheless. Do not blame Kingbot. He is innocent and ready for action.
I, we, must return to roots, lay sacrifice and testament. Absolution of failures via faithfulness of prayer.
So, to the hockey gods, those that came before and those that will come, to those that be, we beseech.
Our Kings, who art in the playoffs,
Hallowed be thy game,
Thy Kingdom come, thy wills be done,
On foreign ice, as it has been before.
Give us this day our defense, and forgive us our reliance upon it,
As we punish those Sharks who trespass against us,
And lead us over these heinous fools,
Over their gilled corpses to victory.
Rev up. It’s game two.
GO FUCKING NUTS!
GO KINGS GO!!
GO KINGS GO!!!
Categories: L.A. Kings News