As an inveterate King fan, I have died a thousand deaths with them. Year after year, my hopes destroyed, my faith tested to the limit. I was present on opening night when the Kings played one of their finest all-around games, but alas, I died again. This time of total embarrassment when some ridiculous, overstuffed mascot (named "Kingston") was introduced and went tripping and tumbling around the ice. He received no laughs, merely looks of disbelief from all the fans around me.
No matter how good the Kings are, they will never be a class act with this idiot around, and worse, no one will ever mistake Los Angeles for being a serious hockey town.