I hit a deer, once. I was driving through Calabasas and ended up with a Volvo covered in deer dents. While the experience was unpleasant, the most memorable thing about that evening was the noise I made as the deer was impacting the car. Not English, not a plain yell, the noise was alien. Primal. Frightening.
When Dustin Brown tipped the puck through Brodeur's five hole, I made the same noise. It's a noise that my body only emits during a tremendous expulsion of adrenaline and emotion. It's a noise that comes after years of watching the Kings underperform, after years of watching other teams win the Cup, after years of waiting my turn.
The funny thing is that this Cup really isn't mine. There are 40 blocks of seats in Staples Center that have been occupied by the same people since the inaugural 1967 season. What tremendous commitment, commitment bordering on insanity, to stay with a team for so long, particularly a team that has been mismanaged, unfortunate, and miserable for decades.
So tonight, as a kid from UMass wins the Conn Smythe and a city rejoices without rioting, congratulations to the Kings, the organization, and the fans. It's been a long time coming.