Yesterday, at somewhere around two o'clock, my kid and I stopped playing NHL11 so I could program the DVR to record that evening's Kings/Stars game. When we switched over to the cable feed, the tuner was (of course) already set to Fox Sports West, but to our surprise we were looking at the Kings up 2-1 with 52 seconds to go in the third period and the Dallas net empty.
ME: I guess it was a day game.
ME JR.: We won. We're winning. We're going to win. Who's got two?
ME: We do.
[Dallas is flying all around the Kings' zone]
ME: Oh please don't let me tune in just in time to see the Stars tie it up with two seconds left oh God no turn it off TURN IT OFF.
ME JR.: -- NO! --
ME: Give me the remote. I said. Give. Me. The --
ME JR.: [at TV} BLOW THE WHISTLE! BLOW THE WHISTLE!
ME: No no no no that's no goal!
ME JR: He hit Quick with his stick!
ME: It was covered!
ME JR.: They're not going to count that. That's not a goal.
ME: It counts. ****ing ****ity ****!
ME JR.: [crying] THAT'S NOT FAIR!
[Me Jr turns off TV, throws the remote onto the sofa and storms out]
ME JR.: MOM!
[I pick up the remote and turn the TV back on; the Kings enter the zone; Me Jr. returns]
ME JR: Where's Mom?
ME: OH! OH! AH!
ME JR.: SHOOT!
ME JR: Is it in? IT'S IN!
ME: HOLY ****!
ME JR: Mom, the Kings won! The Kings won! Holy ****! Mom!
MRS Q: [OFF] Don't say the S.H. word.
MRS. Q [entering]: How much longer before we can leave?
ME JR: Mom, you missed the best game ever.
I'm pretty sure I involuntarily gasped, groaned, shouted or otherwise emitted strange sounds or expletives at least 10 times in those approx. 52 seconds of game time. I believe that's 692 SHOUT/60, as it will now have to be known. Pound for pound, the most exhilarating hockey viewing experience I can remember. Suspense, dread, heartbreak, new hope, redemption. Packed into 52 seconds.