Curses
Were I an amateur conspiracy theorist, I might think someone was out to get me.
My boundless optimism for the Los Angeles Kings, the team for which I bleed purple and silver (after previously bleeding silver and black for them), for which I perennially build up my hopes of hoisting a Stanley Cup banner to the rafters, has, true to form, found new and maddening ways to break my heart, it seems.
Eleven years ago, they broke my heart. Or rather, Marty McSorley did. Along with Patrick Roy. And Eric Desjardins. And the rest of the Montreal Canadiens. All of whom/which I have borne ill will and resentment toward over the past decade. We're talking fanatical (by my standards) animosity. McSorley was a bonehead and got caught playing with an illegally curved stick late in the third period of Game 2, which the Kings led 2-1 in the old Montreal Forum, minutes away from taking a virtually insurmountable 2-0 series lead home to La-La Land. On the ensuing power play, Desjardins scored to force overtime, when he completed the hat trick to deadlock the series. Roy stole that and the next two games in OT, and won another one-goal decision in Game 5 to give the Habs their 22nd Cup to the Kings' nil. Yeah, I'm still bitter.
I endured five playoff-less years after that, saw the local market invaded by a Mickey Mouse outfit and watched all the legendary players from those glory years leave Tinseltown and the game. My suffering was "rewarded" in 1998 when the Kings qualified for the fifth seed, only to get swept by the St. Louis Blues, another serious where a bad, stupid penalty came back to bite us in the ass. (Though if the refs had been at all competent things might not have turned out so ruinous. And Geoff Courtnall will never be welcome at my table.)
The following year all that promised bottomed out as the Kings missed the playoffs altogether. They returned in 2000, only to once again get swept out in the first round, and it rather unceremonious fashion. Not once in four games did the Kings even hold a lead over the Red Wings. It was that ugly.
Flash forward to 2001. Newfound enemy of the state Rob Blake, formerly my all-time favorite player and hockey idol, was dealt to the arch-rival Colorado Avalanche (employers of a wretched human being, the aforementioned Roy, in their net) after refusing to sign a contract extension and vowing to test the free agency market after spending more than a decade -- his entire professional career -- in L.A. We at least managed to snag rock-solid blue liner Aaron Miller and tenacious power forward Adam Deadmarsh in return. After performing with typical playoff aplomb in Games 1 and 2, when the Wings once again handed the Kings' hats to them, my team pulled out a nail-biter in Game 3, winning 2-1 on a third-period goal by Mathieu Schneider. In Game 4 the Wings held a 3-0 lead entering the third, but the Kings mounted a late surge to tie, then Eric Belanger netted the game-winner in OT to finish off the "Stunner at Staples," a latter-day equivalent of the epic "Miracle on Manchester" nearly two decades before. A hard-fought battle in Game 5 resulted in a crucial road win, sending the series back to Hollywood where the Kings had a chance to close out the Wings on home ice. After jumping ahead early, the Wings surged back in the second period to take a 2-1 lead. A goal mid-third period equalized it, and the game went to sudden death. In the extra session, Deadmarsh buried a rebound to seal the deal (and help alleviate some of the sting of the Blake trade -- it's easy to feel better about that swap every time Deadmarsh scores an overtime goal in the postseason), sending me and the home crowd into delirium.
The following round led to a matchup with the Avs and the much-despised Blake and Roy. The Kings stole Game 1 in Denver on an OT goal by Jaroslav Modry, before dropping three straight. Then Felix Potvin took it upon himself to carry the team, recording a 1-0 win in Game 5 in Denver, and blanking the Avs yet again for a 1-0 victory in Game 6, capped when Glen Murray put a knuckling puck through Roy's five hole in the second overtime. Game 7 was close; the Avs went up first, then the Kings leveled it. With about a second left in the second period, Bryan Smolinski rang a shot off the post from in tight, which would've been huge, sending the Avs into the locker room before the last period trailing. Alas, in the third the Avs broke it open and won 4-1. It was arguably the closest anyone came to untracking the Avs en route to the Cup that year, and for one glorious month had me believing the Kings were that year's darlings of destiny.
In 2002, a Kings-Avs rematch was in the works for the first round. After dropping the first two in Denver, the Kings won Game 3, then lost in Game 4. Yet again, they rallied from a 3-1 deficit to force Game 7. And again it stayed close until the Avs broke it open in the third.
Last year was a lost cause. The Kings lost more than 500 man games to injury. (To put it in perspective, it was the equivalent of having six players scratched due to injury in each and every contest.) I sort of had to write it off to bad luck, while also taking some solace in the knowledge that at least I wouldn't lose dozens of hours watching playoff hockey on TV when I hit crunch time for completing my thesis.
This year seemed different. We added some new faces, some character guys and role players, including the return of Luc "Lucky" Robitaille, the NHL's most prolific left wing of all time, for a third stint with the club. Sure, it was kind of an ominous start to have Deadmarsh and Jason Allison begin the year on IR, with a return several months off. And losing the opener in the final seconds didn't help either. Indeed, not a lot seemed to go right in the early going, as injuries piled up at an even faster clip than last year, impossible as that seems. But, somehow, the Kings kept plugging away. They hovered near the top of an admittedly weak Pacific Division and occupied first place for several weeks. They slipped a bit in the standings, but remained within striking distance. Even as the injuries mounted, the ship stayed upright, mainly the work of Ziggy Palffy. This dynamic Slovak has had an MVP-type season, if anyone outside L.A. would bother noticing. His all-around game has been phenomenal this year, and Ziggy has really be central to the team staying afloat in spite of everything else. He's among the league leaders in scoring and plus-minus, a strong two-way player, and an emerging leader in the room.
So, naturally, word comes now that Palffy's been injured in a game and could miss the rest of season with a dislocated shoulder. That sound you hear is my heart breaking.
This is not to say that the season is completely a lost cause. Especially if this injury turns out not to be as severe as first feared (unknown), or if Allison (unlikely) or Deadmarsh (extremely unlikely) returns down the stretch. And there's also the matter of having Andy Murray, an underappreciated hockey mind, behind the bench.
But facing the music, this team was struggling before Ziggy got hurt. The special teams have been anything but special, and this winless streak that's now hit 10 games (though the Kings have mustered seven points in this stretch) isn't helping matters.
I just have one question:
Why? Why?! Why?!?
My boundless optimism for the Los Angeles Kings, the team for which I bleed purple and silver (after previously bleeding silver and black for them), for which I perennially build up my hopes of hoisting a Stanley Cup banner to the rafters, has, true to form, found new and maddening ways to break my heart, it seems.
Eleven years ago, they broke my heart. Or rather, Marty McSorley did. Along with Patrick Roy. And Eric Desjardins. And the rest of the Montreal Canadiens. All of whom/which I have borne ill will and resentment toward over the past decade. We're talking fanatical (by my standards) animosity. McSorley was a bonehead and got caught playing with an illegally curved stick late in the third period of Game 2, which the Kings led 2-1 in the old Montreal Forum, minutes away from taking a virtually insurmountable 2-0 series lead home to La-La Land. On the ensuing power play, Desjardins scored to force overtime, when he completed the hat trick to deadlock the series. Roy stole that and the next two games in OT, and won another one-goal decision in Game 5 to give the Habs their 22nd Cup to the Kings' nil. Yeah, I'm still bitter.
I endured five playoff-less years after that, saw the local market invaded by a Mickey Mouse outfit and watched all the legendary players from those glory years leave Tinseltown and the game. My suffering was "rewarded" in 1998 when the Kings qualified for the fifth seed, only to get swept by the St. Louis Blues, another serious where a bad, stupid penalty came back to bite us in the ass. (Though if the refs had been at all competent things might not have turned out so ruinous. And Geoff Courtnall will never be welcome at my table.)
The following year all that promised bottomed out as the Kings missed the playoffs altogether. They returned in 2000, only to once again get swept out in the first round, and it rather unceremonious fashion. Not once in four games did the Kings even hold a lead over the Red Wings. It was that ugly.
Flash forward to 2001. Newfound enemy of the state Rob Blake, formerly my all-time favorite player and hockey idol, was dealt to the arch-rival Colorado Avalanche (employers of a wretched human being, the aforementioned Roy, in their net) after refusing to sign a contract extension and vowing to test the free agency market after spending more than a decade -- his entire professional career -- in L.A. We at least managed to snag rock-solid blue liner Aaron Miller and tenacious power forward Adam Deadmarsh in return. After performing with typical playoff aplomb in Games 1 and 2, when the Wings once again handed the Kings' hats to them, my team pulled out a nail-biter in Game 3, winning 2-1 on a third-period goal by Mathieu Schneider. In Game 4 the Wings held a 3-0 lead entering the third, but the Kings mounted a late surge to tie, then Eric Belanger netted the game-winner in OT to finish off the "Stunner at Staples," a latter-day equivalent of the epic "Miracle on Manchester" nearly two decades before. A hard-fought battle in Game 5 resulted in a crucial road win, sending the series back to Hollywood where the Kings had a chance to close out the Wings on home ice. After jumping ahead early, the Wings surged back in the second period to take a 2-1 lead. A goal mid-third period equalized it, and the game went to sudden death. In the extra session, Deadmarsh buried a rebound to seal the deal (and help alleviate some of the sting of the Blake trade -- it's easy to feel better about that swap every time Deadmarsh scores an overtime goal in the postseason), sending me and the home crowd into delirium.
The following round led to a matchup with the Avs and the much-despised Blake and Roy. The Kings stole Game 1 in Denver on an OT goal by Jaroslav Modry, before dropping three straight. Then Felix Potvin took it upon himself to carry the team, recording a 1-0 win in Game 5 in Denver, and blanking the Avs yet again for a 1-0 victory in Game 6, capped when Glen Murray put a knuckling puck through Roy's five hole in the second overtime. Game 7 was close; the Avs went up first, then the Kings leveled it. With about a second left in the second period, Bryan Smolinski rang a shot off the post from in tight, which would've been huge, sending the Avs into the locker room before the last period trailing. Alas, in the third the Avs broke it open and won 4-1. It was arguably the closest anyone came to untracking the Avs en route to the Cup that year, and for one glorious month had me believing the Kings were that year's darlings of destiny.
In 2002, a Kings-Avs rematch was in the works for the first round. After dropping the first two in Denver, the Kings won Game 3, then lost in Game 4. Yet again, they rallied from a 3-1 deficit to force Game 7. And again it stayed close until the Avs broke it open in the third.
Last year was a lost cause. The Kings lost more than 500 man games to injury. (To put it in perspective, it was the equivalent of having six players scratched due to injury in each and every contest.) I sort of had to write it off to bad luck, while also taking some solace in the knowledge that at least I wouldn't lose dozens of hours watching playoff hockey on TV when I hit crunch time for completing my thesis.
This year seemed different. We added some new faces, some character guys and role players, including the return of Luc "Lucky" Robitaille, the NHL's most prolific left wing of all time, for a third stint with the club. Sure, it was kind of an ominous start to have Deadmarsh and Jason Allison begin the year on IR, with a return several months off. And losing the opener in the final seconds didn't help either. Indeed, not a lot seemed to go right in the early going, as injuries piled up at an even faster clip than last year, impossible as that seems. But, somehow, the Kings kept plugging away. They hovered near the top of an admittedly weak Pacific Division and occupied first place for several weeks. They slipped a bit in the standings, but remained within striking distance. Even as the injuries mounted, the ship stayed upright, mainly the work of Ziggy Palffy. This dynamic Slovak has had an MVP-type season, if anyone outside L.A. would bother noticing. His all-around game has been phenomenal this year, and Ziggy has really be central to the team staying afloat in spite of everything else. He's among the league leaders in scoring and plus-minus, a strong two-way player, and an emerging leader in the room.
So, naturally, word comes now that Palffy's been injured in a game and could miss the rest of season with a dislocated shoulder. That sound you hear is my heart breaking.
This is not to say that the season is completely a lost cause. Especially if this injury turns out not to be as severe as first feared (unknown), or if Allison (unlikely) or Deadmarsh (extremely unlikely) returns down the stretch. And there's also the matter of having Andy Murray, an underappreciated hockey mind, behind the bench.
But facing the music, this team was struggling before Ziggy got hurt. The special teams have been anything but special, and this winless streak that's now hit 10 games (though the Kings have mustered seven points in this stretch) isn't helping matters.
I just have one question:
Why? Why?! Why?!?
posted by Alexander Dubcek | 23:12
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