Eulogy: Remembering the 2010-11 San Jose Sharks

I actually don't have a problem with the actual Sharks. At least, not like I have a problem with this:

Eulogy: Remembering the 2010-11 Los Angeles Kings - Puck Daddy - NHL Blog - Yahoo! Sports

By S.M. Williams, Blades of Teal

Ladies and Gentleman, Just as an update, the funeral procession is currently stuck in traffic on the 10 East but on its way.

Because, you see, in Los Angeles there is lots of traffic.

Apparently, there were some delays in getting on the road as the morticians were told to match up each Los Angeles Kings player with his linemates for the procession…and they got confused.

Because, you see, Terry Murray likes to shake up his lines. 

[...] Today we remember the fallen Los Angeles Kings. Sometimes ladies and gentlemen, the passing of seemingly vibrant and healthy youth, cut down in the prime of life, can be too hard for the living and victorious to bear, but we must muster on.

Must you? No, in fact. You can't muster on. You can soldier on, but you can't muster on. 

Well, not all young and vibrant. We remember you, head coach Terry Murray --

Because, you see, Terry Murray is old. 536 years old, actually. And Todd MacLellan is only 166. No wait. That's wins. 

-- and we can only assume that the reason you didn't shake hands with the Sharks players after being eliminated was because you were as bad as Dustin Penner at going to your right.

Dustin Penner can't hear you because his Stanley Cup ring is stuffed in his ear.

You did certainly lead by example Coach Murray, and that example was bitching about the officiating like a petulant child and causing your team to moan along with you in unison.

Because, you see, Jason Demers jumped two feet into the air to try to decapitate Ryan Smyth, and everyone on the planet knew it was a missed call. The comments from the Kings were along the lines of "we'll respect the league's decision," etc.. As a Kings fan, I don't recall any other complaining about the officiating, and beyond that Terry Murray is not one to embarrass the league, even if he clearly disagrees. It's just not his style. He'll say, "that is a penalty in my book," or words to that effect. And, as far as players, Jarret Stoll and Ian White held public love-fests in the wake of the Stoll suspension. 

Seriously, about the only thing missing from your post game cry-fests was if you had been dressed in a sailor suit and sucking on a giant lollipop.

Aside from suggesting a sublime Halloween costume, there is nothing about this image that especially suits Terry Murray in particular. Really, anyone is funny if you dress them up like that. Right now I'm picturing Logan Couture. It's f-ing hilarious.

You gave us sage utterances as [sic], "Heck, look, when you give up five goals in one period, everybody's got to be better"

You're right. That does sound whiny.

and announced the return of the hump Scott Parse as the tactical second coming of Rocket Richard.

This simply did not occur. I think what he said was, "Parse says he's ready to go." Or something like that.

Also: hump?

[...] Scott Parse, rest his soul, was a mediocre grinder, coming off a hip injury who hasn't seen the ice since mid-November—I have that exact same guy on my beer league team. His name is Sully [...]. Like Sully, Scott Parse also scored once last year [...]

Terry Murray would love it if Scott Parse was a grinder. He's a sniper. It's true that Parse was out most of the season with injury. It's also true that Parse, in his five games, led the entire team (and in fact the league) in PTS/60. He was either first or second in that stat (I forget which) last season, too. 

And now that you mention your beer league team: don't. Even the worst NHL player could crush your beer league between his thumb and forefinger.

How about the late Drew Doughty? Drew, we will miss your grit and creepy playoff beard that never seemed to make it past the former-headlining-boy-band-who-now-plays-state-fairs stage.

He does look like that guy in the credit-score commercial. He looks even more like Booger from Revenge of the Nerds. The reason he can't grow much of a beard is that he's young. Last year, he was the second youngest player ever to be nominated for the Norris Trophy (the youngest being this Bobby Orr loser, who also couldn't have grown much of a playoff beard, if they did that then). The nice thing about Doughty is that he's that good, and he's that young, and he hasn't even gotten in shape yet. 

We did appreciate the penalty trade off you gave us for Scott Nichol in Game 4.

Still waiting for you to make an observation you didn't steal from post-game press conferences. 

Drew, we will also miss your multiple uncalled slashes on guys like Devin Setoguchi. Watching you get away with all those ineffective hacks was like watching Kobe Bryant using his mind bullets against NBA referees to not have six-step traveling violations whistled.

I'll just go ahead and give the Worst Simile Award to that sentence. How exactly is watching Drew Doughty perform an actual physical action like "watching" Kobe Bryant employ made-up (by you) mind-control powers? 

Speaking of ineffective hacks, we remember you Jonathan Quick.

Projection denied. I won't even bother quoting Quick's numbers, which are demonstrably unassailable. See, your goalie is Antti Niemi, who tried to give the series away at least twice (the two games he was pulled) and was thoroughly out-played by his back-up. Possibly he will get his **** together in time for the Red Wings. But I wouldn't count on it. 

Notso Quick --

I see what you did there. 

[...] what about Games 3 and 4 and the 12 goals against? Seriously, Notso, at what point did modeling your game after Dan Cloutier seem like a good idea?  I mean, did Cloutier have something on you?  Did that fir-trapping sieve blackmail you into letting him wear your gear and impersonate you on the ice? Did he lock you in Lamar Odom's locker? Notso, you were the FUTURE OF AMERICAN GOALTENDING!…oh wait, that's still Ryan Miller. Nevermind.

You just made up a label and then mocked it. Again, this is a projection. The Sharks have huge goaltending issues. The issue being: they don't have good goaltending. The Kings have a goalie in the AHL and one in juniors both of whom are better than the two guys you have.

We remember you Ryan Smyth and celebrate your 32nd and last year in the NHL.

More projection. The Sharks have 10 guys over 30. The Kings have 5. (don't worry, though: you're about to get younger; because after you re-sign Devin Setoguchi, you'll have about $8MM left to sign 7 guys, which means saying good-bye to half your defensemen and replacing them with children.)

We remember you Michal Handzus, mostly because every time we saw you on the ice we were trying to figure out when Scott Hartnell had been traded to the Kings, how we missed that story and when he started to suck.

It would help if you knew what to look for.

In all fairness, when life gives you lemons…or clown-like Chaka Khan hair, you make hair lemonade.

"When life gives you lemons...you make hair lemonade."  I hate to think of the jokes you edited out. 

To Anze Kopitar, thank you for sitting in the Pierre Maguire seats at Staples and playing Angry Birds on your phone all game…and, for breaking your ankle earlier too…that one was clutch.

You anger the Injury Gods at the peril of all Sharkdom. Please continue.

To Brad Richardson, thank you for ducking and getting checked into the boards by Jamie McGinn, winding up with a head wound right out of "Braveheart." And for the lost teeth too, as there was nothing better than seeing you on your knees that time picking up your chiclets.

See Injury Gods, above.

But that big flop you sold as if somebody in the rafters shot you when Ginner ran you…the one that led to the 5 minute major penalty that your team couldn't capitalize on? 

Having offended the Injury Gods, you're moving on to the Gods of the Bounce? 

It's bad form to mock a team for not scoring on a power-play which (1) it only just barely didn't score on, with such a paper thin margin of error that you may as well call it chance; (2) had the Kings scored on said power-play, you would have been looking at a game seven, at which point (3) flip a coin, you might be playing golf now. Or in your case, miniature golf. 

Thank you for providing the official nail-in-the-coffin moment [you mean "last nail in the coffin"], which immediately preceded the end of your team's hopes and dreams. As much as joy of [sic] their demise fills my senses, I must pause. For even when it's [what's?] the grief of fans of a hated rival team, it's still important that we reach out. In these times though [sic], endeavors of ours [our endeavors] to sincerely console [to console] wallowing Los Angeles Kings fans on [sic] ["in the wake of", he means] their team's annihilation can get muddled [!] as we battle our own frightening images of playoff mortality. When is our time? Of course, we are not exactly battling the whole frightening images of mortality thing right this second or anything like that after winning and beating the Kings…it's kind of the opposite actually. Sometimes, you're just happy to see the dead guy go and that's OK to admit. 

Sure, especially when you needed three OTs and six games to beat a team you were supposed to sweep. 

Maybe it was taking glee in the sight of the Staples Center emptying out, [...] Maybe it was remembering that tool in the lower bowl, wearing in the MC Ren era Kings hat, who kept mispronouncing the names of  his team's own players ( HAND-Zeus) or made the "Jack Johnson has same name as singer Jack Johnson!" joke eight times in the span of about 15 minutes.

Pot: Kettle?

Kettle: Yes, Pot?

Pot: You're black. 

Not speaking ill of the Los Angeles hockey dead will come out in niceties such as, "They played us tough" or "they wanted it as bad as us" or "we got lucky" and will float about in the media ether for a day, maybe two. And just like the tearful faux tributes at the miserable guy's funeral, it will be all made up by a team trying to take the proverbial high road.

Lucky for them, you're here to reclaim the low road for them. 

The beauty of those statements is that if your team is the one uttering them, you are the one still alive. 

Whistling in the graveyard.

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