My Stanley Cup Dream Come True

After enduring months of immense anxiety, growing a playoff beard, going through the same routine every game day, refusing to acknowledge their mind blowing run and neglecting this blog for fear of jinxing them, it has yet to sink in.  Even after watching Game 6 of the finals no less than 5 times in the past week, it still doesn't seem real.  The Los Angeles Kings, MY Kings, are Stanley Cup champions.

I vividly remember my first game.  I was already a die-hard Lakers and Dodgers fan, but my father insisted on taking my brother and myself to see a Kings game.  My father, being from Detroit, was already well versed in hockey, having watched the great Red Wings teams growing up, and I recall him explaining the game to us and how the Forum would look completely different from the normal basketball set up we were used to.  Of course being a kid you are always half listening to your parents, and this was no different, as I was still unsure about this whole hockey thing.  But I will never forget walking down the tunnel, feeling the cold air from the ice meandering around the arena, and seeing the rink for the first time.  It seemed massive; taking up the entire arena.  And once the game started, I was hooked.  I couldn't get enough of the Kings.  I watched games, memorizing the yearbook of players names, birthdays, etc.  I asked for jerseys and hockey sticks for holidays, and slowly the Kings replaced my beloved Lakers and Dodgers atop my favorite teams.

Being a Los Angeles fan I was used to success.  The Lakers had won multiple titles during the "Showtime" era, and the Dodgers had come out of nowhere to win the World Series in 1988.  I admit, I was spoiled.  All I knew was success in my sporting life, and it seemed the Kings would be no different.  They won their division for the first time in 1991, and made the finals in 1993 (and should have won if not for Marty McSorley.  Yes, I'm am still bitter).  But after 1993, reality struck.  I was neglectful of the Kings past futility, but it soon became crystal clear.  They made a serious of horrible moves, and always seemed to underachieve.  They missed the playoffs year after year, and when they did, they were quickly sent home.  After enduring this for years it became expected.  Like most Kings fans, I lived by the motto "hope for the best, expect the worst".

And this year started no different.  The Kings were among the favorites to contend for the Cup, but like they always do, began their usual decent in the standings once the end of the year rolled around.  They didn't even make the playoffs until their 81st game.  But then, something magical happened, and they went on one of the most unbelievable rolls in sports, one that culminated in hoisting the greatest prize in athletics.

Still gives me goosebumps

I can get into what exactly they've accomplished.  Their 16-4 record, 10 straight road wins, starting 3-0 in every series, and giving up the same amount of goals in the entire playoffs that the cup favorite Pittsburgh Penguins gave up in the first round.  But what trumps these statistics, at least to me, is the incredible feeling you get when something you care and dream about so deeply finally becomes a reality.  You can't help but look back at all that you've endured over the years (for me, nearly 25 LONG years), and all the disappointment and heartache.  But you also remember all the memories that were made along the way, all the relationships that were built and shared around this team.  For me, after watching the Kings lift The Cup through misty eyes, my mind went back and reflected on how this team and organization has played such a major part in my life.

I thought about my dad, and all the nights we stayed up watching the Kings, and all the events we were taken to when I was young meet the players and actually experience hockey.  All the frustration we've experienced, and how this validated all the years of loyalty and love.

I thought about my brother, and the countless hours of trading and studying hockey cards, and playing hockey in the backyard, pretending to win the Cup on a last second goal or save.

I thought about one of my best friends, and I how much I miss him and wish he was still here to experience this run with me.  We had met and bonded over hockey, and he was the only other person I knew who was as rabid about the game as me.  I know if he were around there would be nobody happier for me than him.

I thought about my girlfriend, who watched every single minute of every game with me, putting up with my craziness and yelling, along with scaring the shit out of her every time the Kings scored.  The fact that I was able to share this entire experience with her is beyond special, and something I will never forget.

I thought about all the players I watched and loved over the years, and how this was some validation for all the blood, sweat and tears they put into this organization.  Because without them this would be happening.

I thought about Bob Miller and Jim Fox, the Kings broadcasting crew and hands down the greatest in the game, and how much I wished I could hear them throughout the playoffs.  They have been part of the Kings for generations, and deserved to call not just the final game, but every game.

I thought about Nick Nickson, the radio announcer for the Kings for decades, and how wonderful it was to turn on the radio in the final seconds to hear him make the call "the Kings can finally wear their crown!"  Unforgettable...

But most of all I thought about the Kings fans.  Not those walking around the last few weeks with clean, creased Kings jerseys, but the true Kings fans.  The ones who have never lost faith even when hope seemed lost.  Being a Kings fan in Los Angeles is sort of like a club.  Sharing a city with two behemoths of the sporting landscape is difficult enough, let alone being a winter sport in Southern California.  But Kings fans are the most loyal and intelligent out there.  When you meet another fan it's an instant connection, almost like a secret handshake.  Sure it was a little difficult watching everyone jump on the bandwagon, but that's life, and that's L.A.  But hopefully those who jumped on stay on, because hockey is the greatest sport in the world, and at least for right now, we have the greatest team.

It is a strange feeling once years of disappointment ends.  The next day I felt something I didn't expect:  Relief.  I had just watched my favorite team do something I never expected them to do and I felt as if a weight had been lifted.  I could take a step back and immerse myself in all that had occurred, and finally take a deep breath.

At least until next season starts...

The greatest prize in sports