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These Days, You Don't Have to Love Hockey to Love Those Kings

June 05, 1993

I was not a hockey fan. I try not to be a fan of anything. But I flipped the dial and stumbled onto the end of the Kings' incredible Game 5 loss to Toronto in overtime.

All of those shots and only one score.

The game seemed similar to basketball, but invented instead by a Naismith of the '60s while on acid and played by guys on amphetamines, while carrying sticks and crashing into one another at breakneck speed. Soon I was on the edge of my chair, alone in an empty office, screaming at the Kings' shots, cringing at Toronto's, especially that heartbreaking last one.

How could I possibly be exhilarated by a sport I do not understand? One I cannot even see? Not at regular speed, not even in slow motion.

But I was. I made sure to watch Game 6 and Game 7. What excitement! What a rush!

Never again will Gleason alone be the Great One.

And who is this Stanley guy?




Over 20 years of heartache. Players have come and gone. Jack Kent Cooke, Jerry Buss and Bruce McNall. Forum Blue and Gold. Raider Black and Silver.

But through it all there has been Bob Miller.

Bob, this Cup's for you.


Costa Mesa


What makes this Stanley Cup so great will be sweeping through the famed Canadian teams. Maybe Canada should look for a new ending of "O Canada."

O Canada, glorious are the Kings.

O Canada, you will go a doughnut for four.

O Canada, the Cup will stand in sunshine this winter.



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