The start of the game made me nervous.

You see, I’m a guitarist, and as Slash muddled his way through the National Anthem, it was clear something was wrong with his rig. He didn’t have nearly enough gain dialed in, meaning that his notes were sorely lacking sustain.

Would the Kings be lacking sustain, or would they continue the pushback they displayed in the final period of Game 2? I fervently hoped they could, as I watched Slash’s deflated pectoral “muscle” slowly sag its way out of his leather vest.


The “bombs bursting in air” turned out to just be nervous farts from LA Kings fans. (Photo: NHL)

The game got underway, and there was an unmistakable crackling energy inside Staples Center… that was promptly squashed by a shorthanded goal by Toews about 5 minutes into the game. Thankfully, I only had to clench my jaw and squeeze my fist in anger for about 50 seconds before Slava Voynov woke up and remembered how to put the biscuit in the baboushka.

At this point, after watching the Kings shrug off a potentially morale-sucking SHG by answering with a goal of their own less than a minute later, I knew that this team either had the heart of a champion or I had taken a hallucinatory dose of Immodium A-D.

Toews got another one before the first period ended, but for the first time I wasn’t overly worried by the score. I had seen something in these Kings that, to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure they possessed until after Game 7 of the Ducks series.

This team believes it’s going to win the Stanley Cup this year.

The rest of the game, besides the final five seconds, was an absolute clinic by the Kings, but it was also something more than that. They didn’t just play well, they played hungry. Tanner Pearson was skating up the ice like he was being chased by a horde of White Walkers with Ryan Getzlaf’s face. Jarret Stoll was forechecking with the kind of effort he usually reserves for enthusiastically taking offensive zone penalties. Jake Muzzin played 24 minutes without doing anything that made me want to stick a pin in his voodoo doll. Alec Martinez was so into the game, he pulled a Dustin Brown and forgot how to ingest liquid.

The Kings won this game despite being slightly out-Corsi’d by Chicago, with only Voynov, Clifford, Stoll, Mitchell, and Pearson finishing with a CF% over 50%. Hey, that Pearson kid isn’t half bad!  It’s just too bad nobody realized that earlier on in the season.

The Boogie Nights Line, aka That 70’s Line, aka Squinty Magoo and the Speedy Two, aka Sexy and Sons have points in four straight game (each individual player!) – not even John Travolta was scoring this much in the 70’s.

Buckle up, Kings fans. This postseason isn’t ending anytime soon. Two more wins to shave those mutton chops off of Toews’ face, and six more wins until The Royal Half changes his twitter icon for another season.


Psh, the Kings are way better than the B’s!

Until Game 4, Kings fans.

Tufficult out.

-King Tufficult (@KingTufficult)

As a child, King Tufficult liked to hang out at Iceoplex to watch his dad’s summer skating group that included many gloriously mulleted individuals. Some of the people attached to those mullets played for the early 90′s LA Kings. It was destiny. Since then, King Tufficult is best known for extensively traveling in Europe during the Cup Finals and writing “The Post” after Game 6 of the 2014 WCF. If you're a glutton for punishment, you can follow King Tufficult on Twitter @KingTufficult.