Christmas Ode to the Kings Is Full of Reason and Rhyme

‘Twas two weeks till Christmas, the Kings were in trouble.

Their play had unraveled, some Grinch burst their bubble.

The goalies were choking, their game was in shreds.

While visions of red lights flashed in their heads.

The defense had left them all hung out to dry,

It made poor ol’ Stephane want to sit down and cry.

While Jamie said it was a concussion to blame,

How else could he give up ‘bout six goals a game?

The players kept coughing up the puck in their zone,

And the offense had sent in their effort by phone.

It started in Jersey, a devilish night,

Three times, maintenance had to replace the goal light.

On to the Garden, a game with the Rangers,

It appeared that Storr and the puck were total strangers.

Six goals bent the net in the very first frame,

Storr shrieked as the PA guy called out the names . . .

“Score Harvey, score Taylor, score Harvey again,

Score Knuble, score Fleury, and one for McLean.”

Eight goals were allowed by the end of the night,

The Kings were in trouble, ol’ Sarge was uptight.

The team headed home, quite bedraggled and cross.

How could they tolerate another huge loss?

The ‘Hawks were in town, that was the good news.

The Kings own these jokers, no way could they lose.

But once again rubber just whipped by Fiset,

A turnover spectacle, the D put on display.

When the carnage was over, I looked at the score,

Which read Blackhawks eight, the Kings only four.

The Kings sit in seventh place out in the West,

Sagging as bad as a grandparent’s chest.

Let’s hope in their stockings Santa leaves them a heart.

And they enter 2000 with a fresh start.

There’s still hope for Ziggy, for Stumpy and Luc.

To prove that the first two months were no fluke.

Let Sarge give these guys a big kick in the rear,

And we’ll all have a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

CHRIS MAUGER, Rialto