Why I Love Hockey

I moved around a lot when I was a kid. My parents divorced when I was pretty young and the realities of my step-dad's job meant we were always on the move. When I wasn't moving with him, I was going to visit my actual dad.

I was never really in one place, is what I'm trying to say.

It's tough when you're a kid always on the move. You get good at making near friends (I think that's why I developed humor as a defense mechanism), guys that you can go play Rampage with or play pick-up with, but you never really get close friends. I pretty much just had my brother and sister and my parents for a large part of my childhood.

I discovered hockey when I was 7. My brother started watching first (he was 11 or 12) and I, like most everything else, picked it up because I wanted to be like him. I had tried soccer and baseball but nothing caught me up like hockey did. My brother, me and the rest of the kids on base used to play hockey for hours and then run inside to watch the Kings play at night. I was always goalie because that was the way my brother would let me hang out with him and his friends. Every Saturday was hockey day and I loved every minute of it.

When I was 8 my folks put me in a rec roller league. I didn't know what the hell I was doing; I wore a catcher's chest protector with a first baseman's mitt and regular shoulder pads. I had some of those old red Belfour leg pads that had fish netting on the side for some reason. I didn't have any protection on my arms, leading to a concerned call from my school to my parents because I started coming to school with giant bruises on my arms. I was Kelly Hrudey in my own little world, though, complete with a bandana to hold back my hair. In my head, I was a badass.

That was the first time I ever felt like I was part of something. I had my team and, although I didn't really know any of them, they all loved me because I was pretty good. For a kid who never really had friends, it meant a lot to see people light up when you made a save. I felt wanted. It felt good.

I'll never forget that season. We ended up doing well that season and made the playoffs. In the finals, we faced a team (I can't remember their name but I remember they were wearing red jerseys; we were in purple and gold, obviously) that had the best skater in the league on it. He was a dick (I remember that too). Anyway, after regulation we were tied 3-3 so it went to overtime. Overtime came and went with no score so it went to a shootout. I took a lap by myself, tried to clear my head, and then took place in net. Their best skater came down, juked once, twice, and I don't know how but I knew exactly where he was going. He shot and then


Hahahahaha, I had you going, didn't I? You should've been clued in where I said that I, Rudy Kelly, didn't have friends growing up. Are you kidding me? PEOPLE FUCKING LOVE ME. I'm the greatest! I did move around a lot as a kid but I always had best friends and people who were glad to see me. Because I'm awesome.

Me IRL

You know why I love hockey? Because I'm awesome at it. I mean, I'm awesome at everything but I'm even awesomer at hockey. I developed my sense of humor because I enjoy making people feel bad about themselves in a way that doesn't expose me as an outright dick. I play goalie for the same reason. My life rules: I'm good looking, I didn't make my parents divorce like you probably did, I was statuatorily raped, I'm white, people don't realize I'm only pretending to be a good person, my best friend is a dog. I'm the greatest person in the greatest city in the greatest state in the 2nd greatest country in the world. (Damn you, Norway!)


My life has been so easy. Everything has been handed to me since I was a baby and it rules. The other day, I went to buy alcohol and the lady just gave me a free shot glass. Just gave it to me. For no reason. Stuff like that happens all the time. Good things don't happen to good people; good things happen to me.

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Me IRL

And yet, I've felt empty. It's through a brain defect that I can only feel happiness through the successes of a shitty hockey team called the Los Angeles Kings. They were the one area of my life where everything wasn't perfect... until now. This isn't a triumph over adversity; this is the universe correcting to make the NHL follow the same rules as everything else. I'm a winner. Los Angeles is a winner. You? You're all losers. How could you be anything different? Look at you. You're worthless. Not like me. I'm worth a lot. Get out of my face. FUCK YOU.

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Me IRL

As your new ruler, I'd like to lay down a few ground rules:

1) Fuck you

2) Earl Sleek? Banish-ed.

3) Meg can stay, but only as my personal footstool/fluffer.

4) Spade... he's good people. He may have Riverside.

5) Bring me you finest Del Taco chicken softs from throughout the land

6) Meet my new financial advisor

7) Jonathan Quick never has to pay for food or sex again

8) Maggie gets prima nocta on any bone found

9) No Tutsis allowed.

10) Ryan Smyth...

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You. You... get to live the rest of your life. That's punishment enough.

Peasants, I... wait, do you hear that sound? Off in the distance? I can hear it getting closer. It sounds like... my voice.

Eat my shit

What's that, me? Can't quite hear you.

Eat my shit

Don't be afraid, let everyone hear you.

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

Eat my shit

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You're all about to feel the full weight of Los Angeles smuggery on your shoulders. Welcome to Hell, assholes.

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