Hockey brings out the best and the worst in us as people. Screaming ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME at the television every five minutes in either elation or rage definitely has some effects on our personal lives. Our families think we're insane, our roommates want us to gtfo, and for whatever reason (that obv does not involve a history of throwing any object in sight while having a game-fueled fit) our significant others flinch when we move too quickly.
Those are, in a way, the easiest parts of being a fan. Because even while you LITERALLY CAN'T EVEN, you're engaged and involved. The hardest parts? Frustration. Confusion. An odd hint of betrayal. Games where we just can't get it done for no one specific reason, just general ennui. Add up a few games like that and the malaise grows and grows. Our tummies hurt. Brief awards tonight in which we equate your feefees to other Important Life Events.
FEELING MOST AKIN TO BUYING TRUE RED LIPSTICK AND REALIZING THAT SHIT IS STRAIGHT UP ORANGE
Everyone looks tired as shit, but the top line is trying to make it happen so hard.
Despite their efforts, the Kings are killing it with puck control.
Something maybe almost happened when Stempniak gets a pass to Kunitz, who tries a shot that goes wide. Sid is there to try to pick it up but instead gets involved in a clusterfuck that ends with the cage off its moorings.
The Kings leave a turnover for Neal, who tries it out, but again we're shooting wide.
The first line tries again with a drop pass from Kunitz to Sid, who tries it out to see what will happen. Jones loses track of the rebound and Stempniak tries to take charge, but his shot is thwarted by Kopitar's stick.
It's all just a bunch of nope nope nope.
FEELING MOST AKIN TO YOUR HIGH SCHOOL BEST FRIEND BECOMING A JUGGALO
All that possession by the Kings has to pay off, and when only a few select dudes in black and gold are really putting forth any effort, it's not a surprise at all. Gaborik's wrister makes it into the net, but not before giving Carter's stick a friendly nudge. The Pens are like HEY NO but the replay shows the stick below the cross bar, so it's good.
Instead of showing you that, here's Daryl from The Walking Dead.
Please and thank you.
FEELING MOST AKIN TO A LONG NIGHT OF ASSESSING YOUR BODY IN A FULL-LENGTH MIRROR
Not to say you aren't sexy as hell (you are) but nothing's going to leave you feeling more like shit than your own criticism.
Oh wait and also when the Kings make it 2-0 in the second with a shot that rings off the post like the shrill musical note before the murderer hiding in your shower gets you.
We're not adding insult to injury, so here's this instead.
FEELING MOST AKIN TO LANDING A SWEET KICKFLIP WHEN YOU WERE 17 BUT NO ONE WAS WATCHING
Shortly after, the Pens tie it up.
Surprise surprise, it was the top line showing up.
Satisfying, but ultimately pointless.
FEELING MOST AKIN TO THAT TIME YOU WERE PRETTY SURE YOU WERE GOING TO LOSE YOUR VIRGINITY TO THE HOMEROOM HOTTIE, BUT LITTLE DID YOU KNOW IT WAS ALL FOR NAUGHT
We get a little lucky when Pyatt tries out a mundane wrister. Nothing special, but Jones reacts in all the wrong ways and it ends up bouncing in.
It's exciting and hopeful and despite all existing evidence, we think we might just get lucky this game.
Jones makes up for this blunder before the end of the second by absolutely robbing Niskanen of a one-timer by just punching it out of the way.
FEELING MOST AKIN TO THINKING OF YOUR CREDIT SCORE AFTER AN UNINSURED TRIP TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM
The Kings get the gwg in the third with a one-timer from Doughty.
Ummm, let's see…what do we have here…
No stars tonight, and let's just say that the individual awards go to the hotties of television for easing our pain, mmmkay?
Get some sleep.