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in which a memory is created with my son

I went to my first Los Angeles Kings game around 1986, when they still played at the Forum, wore the original uniforms, and weren’t a playoff team.

By the end of the first period, my fandom was cemented. I loved how fast the game moved. I loved how weird it was to play ice hockey in Southern California. I loved that nobody I knew was into hockey, so this was something that belonged to me. In the 80s, being a hockey fan in LA was to be part of a subculture that took a little bit of work. Like, it was easy to be a Lakers fan during Showtime. The Dodgers weren’t that great in the mid-80s, but by 1988 they were in the World Series again, while the Kings were pretty mid, if my memory is correct.

Years and years ago, I wrote something about how much I loved getting off of work at Paramount, driving down La Cienega through the oil fields, and sneaking into Inglewood around the traffic on the 405 and 110. I would have been 16 or so, maybe just barely 17, when Gretzky came to the Kings, and my subculture exploded into very mainstream Los Angeles sports culture. I took an extended break from the NHL — and all sports, really — when my kids were little. We couldn’t justify the expense for tickets, and when I had a choice between going out for something or staying home and enjoying my family’s company, I always stayed home.

But in … I think it was 2010? 2011? … the Kings were in the playoffs against St. Louis, a couple seasons before they won their first Stanley Cup. I knew from experience that there is nothing in the world like playoff hockey, and that I had my best chance to introduce Anne to the sport, the team, and that part of me. So we went to game 3 of the series (I’m going from memory. I could look all this up and be sure about the dates, but I’m going to write this parenthetical, instead.) We sat behind the goal, about 7 rows up, not the best place to get a full view of the game and watch plays develop, but really great for dropping you right into the middle of the whole thing.

Anne was completely on board by like the third or fourth whistle. She was hollering with me, stomping her feet, the whole thing. It was great. We got season tickets the following season, and we have had them ever since.

Last night, she had an art class she’s been looking forward to for weeks, that she joind before the playoff schedule was set, so I took our son, Nolan, with me. He’s been so busy with so many things, we haven’t had many opportunities lately to just go out and hang, so I was looking forward to that even more than the game, itself.

Holy shit the game, itself. I’ve been feeling like this team is the first team the Kings have put out in years that has a real chance to get past Edmonton. Fucking FINALLY. As I wrote only semi-jokingly in yesterday’s post, Edmonton has one line and a bunch of guys. Their goalie is very beatable, and if the Kings can shut down McDavid (who, we all have to admit is the greatest player in the world right now), they should advance.

The vibe inside Staples Center was immaculate. Fans chanting in the streets, in the concourse ahead of the game, in our seats before they introduced the players. For the first time since opening night, the place looked to be nearly sold out. It was the playoffs, man, and it nourished my soul to be there.

The game was exciting and nerve wracking. The Kings took their foot off the gas at the beginning of the third, as is traditional, and let the Oilers back in. McDavid did his thing (I hope Edmonton nerds know how lucky they are to watch him year after year) and I felt roughly 17000 people go “oh fuck my life not this again”.

And then.

And then, Phillip Danault and Warren Foegele did this, with 7 seconds left.

Phillip Danault (off camera right) snaps a shot on Jeff Skinner that flutters in for a goal, while Warren Foegele leaps out of the way. (via reddit)

Nolan and I jumped up out of our seats so fast and so hard, we practically hit our heads on the roof.

The Kings held on for seven intense seconds, and after blowing a huge lead, managed to win it 6-5 in regulation. It’s the first time they’ve won a playoff game in regulation in three years. I screamed so much, my throat hurts today and my voice is hoarse. Not the best thing before I start an audiobook tomorrow. Good thing I heal like Wolverine.

On the drive home, I looked over at Nolan and said, “Look, it’s the playoffs, and I would never admit to this in public or on my blog, but it’s after 10 already and I did not want to be leaving here after 11, so I feel like not only did the Kings win, we also won.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say anything, but … yeah.”

We laughed about that a little bit.

I said, “I guess I know that I’m old and tired because I’m not completely sure I wouldn’t have suggested we race home during the intermission so I could watch OT on TV and then roll right into bed. I don’t even know who I am.”

He started to reply, then said, “Look out!” because a stupid fucking dipshit idiot driver whipped across three lanes without signaling to gain a car length while I was — with my turn indicator on because oh my fucking god why is that so hard for you people to do — safely changing lanes like an adult.

I yanked my wheel back to my left, was grateful I drive a Mini with a low center of gravity, and dad mode automatically engaged. “You fucking idiot fuck,” I spat at that guy. “My fucking kid is right here! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You okay? Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, that was intense.”

My parental anger faded as quickly as it flared. “I’m really glad you saw that. I would have missed it entirely.” In my dad brain, a vivid series of violent car crashes played in high speed.

“I barely did.”

“Yikes. That’s scary. We were so close to being in a serious crash because of that guy, and he probably has no idea.” I wondered how many more near collisions this dude would cause on his way to wherever he was going.

“Yep.”

We drove in silence for a little bit. And then, after we’d merged onto the 134, I said the thing that had been on my mind since we’d left the house hours earlier.

“I’m so grateful you chose to come to the game tonight. Thank you for making a special memory with me. I cherish this time together, and I want you to know that.”

“I do know that, but I’m still glad you said it. I didn’t expect to have as much fun as I did. It reminded me of the times we went before.”

“That was so much fun. I’m so happy that you remember it the way I do.”

When Nolan was in high school, the Kings had ticket packs for super cheap (they were NOT a good team, then) so I got him like 6 games for Christmas, mostly so we had an excuse to go do something together. At one of the games, we were screaming and cheering for the boys and they put us on the Jumbotron. Someone in the organization grabbed it, and made that video snip part of the opening montage for the rest of that year. Every game I went to, with Nolan and without, I got to see it and remember how fun it was when it happened. It was so long ago, the memories have faded to a point where they are unreliable. Last night was an echo of those memories, and it refreshed them enough to restore their clarity.

Anne’s got tickets to a show tomorrow, and Nolan is my first choice, if he’s feeling it, to be my +1. So maybe we’ll get to make another memory together tomorrow night that involves the Kings going to Edmonton up 2 games to none.

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Also, before I go, I am on Michael Rosenbaum’s podcast, Inside of You, this week. I’m working on a post about it, just struggling to get WordPress to play nice with a bit of embedded video. Until then, here are some quick links:

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it’s the most wonderful time of the year

It’s that time again! Here’s my 2025 Stanley Cup Playoffs bracket, something that is always fun for me to write for the eleven people in the world who care about it. (Hi! I’m glad you’re all here!)

Round One

Campbell Western Conference

Vegas vs. Minnesota

As much as I very intensely dislike VGK, they aren’t pulling that IR bullshit from years past, so I grudgingly set that moniker aside this year. Minnesota is in the playoffs because of the ridiculous start to their season. The Wild (I almost typed North Stars, sigh) are hurt, and the last six weeks of the regular season were brutal for them. If the team that we saw at the beginning of the season shows up, they will give Vegas a serious run. They looked pretty great yesterday, and boy did they make Vegas work for the win at Medieval Times Arena. I still favor Vegas, though. They have most of a team has been here before, and they know how to win in the playoffs. I expect Minnesota to take at least one of their home games, and I think this one goes to 6 before Vegas advances.

Winnipeg vs St. Louis

The Jets have the best record in hockey for a reason that goes beyond Connor Hellebuyck. In the old 1 plays 8 days, I’d give The Blues a stronger upset chance, but I think they’re just outmatched here. This is the only sweep in the first round. Winnipeg in 4.

Dallas vs. Colorado

My heart wants to cheer for Dallas, because my dear friend Stepto (may his memory be a blessing) loved them the way I love my Kings. Colorado isn’t going to make it easy. Blackwood will steal a game for the Avs, and yesterday was not that game; the Stars lost that one all on their own. This series will go 6, maybe even 7, but the Stars are moving on to face the ‘Peg.

Los Angeles vs. Connor McDavid

This is our year. Fucking finally. The Kings have a team that can neutralize Edmonton’s line. The Kings are hot as hell right now, and have home ice advantage, where they had the best home record in the league (like, it wasn’t even close). Kuemper is locked in and Skinner has looked shaky. Edmonton has the best player in the world, another generational talent, and 24 other guys. For the first time in four seasons, the Kings have 4 lines who can score and a goalie who can keep them in it. Kings in 6.

Wales Eastern Conference Round One

Toronto vs. Ottawa

Brady, I’m real happy for you, and ima let you finish, but Toronto actually looks like a hockey team this year, and the Senators are just beginning to draw back the curtains, and open their Cup window. This isn’t Ottawa’s year, which is fucking crazy because it’s NEVER Toronto’s year. They have an incredibly rich history of finding truly creative ways to lose, but I’m picking Toronto because it serves a greater narrative. Leafs in 5.

Tampa Bay vs. Florida

Ah, the battle of America’s Wang. A playoff series for the ages that will live in the pages of hist– yawn I’m sorry I drifted off there thinking about this. These teams are basically even for me, but I freely admit I don’t pay much attention to them during the regular season, so I am absolutely missing a lot of nuance. But given the Panthers’ win last year by a team that they largely kept together, and the absolutely insane leveling up in Matthew Tkachuk’s play during Four Nations, I’m picking the Panthers in 5.

Washington vs. Montreal

Remember when the Habs were this unstoppable force? Remember when the Habs could score one and shut the door? This is not them. This team is mid af, just good enough to make it into the post season, but missing a lot of the parts it needs to go deep. I despise Ovechkin’s Team Putin bullshit, and for that reason alone I want them to get swept. But let’s be honest: the caps are a fucking incredible team who are going to be an autoaxe with legendary mods against Montreal’s weak feral ghouls. Anything can happen in this league on any night (the reason the NHL is the best league) so don’t count them out entirely, but I wouldn’t worry about having to change tee times with those guys in the beginning of April. Washington in 5.

Carolina vs. New Jersey

Hey, did you know the Devils are in the playoffs? Can you name one of their players? I just realized I can’t, and that means I haven’t paid attention to them at all this year. Meanwhile, after I retired Blaine Gretzky because the guy I named him after turned out to be garbage, I started a new create a pro game. My player wears #13, and his name is Johnny Marlowe. He plays for Carolina, and I have developed the same emotional connection to the real team that I had for the Kraken during Blaine’s career. I could come up with stats and reasons to support my choice, but where’s the fun in that? I’m picking Carolina for a silly reason, but it’s still a reason. Hurricanes in 7 because I presume New Jersey has some Dark Horse thing I don’t know about and that makes for good drama.

Round 2

Jets vs. Stars

This one goes 7 and Winnipeg wins in OT. Sorry, Stepto.

Kings vs Vegas

The Kings teams that won the Stanley Cup were built to grind down opponents over a 7 game series. Even when San Jose went up 3-0, the Kings were able to just check them into submission and come all the way back. This Kings team does not play that way, and the longer the series goes, the more it favors the other team. Sure, I could write a script where they do it again against all the odds and blah blah blah, but everything is terrible and I just want some excitement, so I’m giving this to the Kings in 4. Yeah, you read that correctly. Kings sweep Vegas in round two. Book it.

Toronto vs. Florida

In the second game of the second round, something happens in the second intermission. Down a game and trailing, a Toronto team that’s been struggling to keep up with the defending champions breaks through in that third period and never looks back. GG, Florida. Leafs in 7.

Washington vs. Carolina

Some of you may notice that I stealth edited this in, after weirdly forgetting to include it originally. This series is back and forth the entire time. Nobody has a clear advantage, beyond Washington’s power play which is really just Ovechkin on the left side. It’s not enough, and Carolina squeaks past in a series that goes 7 games.

Conference Final

Kings vs. Jets

In reality, this is where the Kings go home.

Yeah screw that. In my story, this is a seven game series. The Kings steal a game in OT, we see at least one goalie battle, but the difference comes from Los Angeles’ young players. Byfield, Fiala, Laferriere and Turcotte surprise everyone with their maturity and composure in big situations. Kopitar and Doughty have been here before, and their experience both leads the other players and neutralizes the half a step or so they’re behind due to age and injury. Kuepmer doesn’t quite give us vintage Quick, but what he does give us rhymes with vintage quick. Winnipeg fully expects to win this at home, not unreasonably. But they didn’t count on this guy over here being the writer, and the Kings win it at home in game 7, right in front of me.

Toronto vs Carolina

It’s a classic Leafs vs Whalers matchup, just like the old days of 2002! Eddie Shore! Old Time Hockey! This is the series where Auston Matthews finally gets the national and casual fan attention he has deserved his entire career. Attention that has eluded him, because, come on, it’s Toronto. The Whale does not make it easy for the Leafs to win the series in 6 games.

Stanley Cup Final

It is the match-up we have all needed since 1993: a replay of the last time the Kings and the Leafs went deep in the playoffs, only this time it’s for the Big One. Leafs Nation wants revenge for the high stick that was not called, while Los Angeles desperately needs a series win that encourages our toxic trait of pretending that never happened. The drama is off the charts for this final. It’s Canada vs. USA. It’s East vs. West. It’s The Past vs. The Future. It’s so much better than whatever is really going to happen (which to be clear will still be cool) because there is no other potential Final match-up that carries this weight. It’s a series for the ages. No game is decided by more than one goal, at least two games to to OT, including game 7. The game and series and Stanley Cup winner comes from a Kopitar snipe at the top of the left circle, short-handed.

Okay, that’s the way I want this to go. And, if we accept that there are an infinite number of potential realities, all of them just beyond our perception, this is the way it will go, in at least one of them. So maybe it’ll be this one.

What do you think? I can talk about hockey the way I can talk about Star Trek. Let’s talk about it! Who are you cheering for? Who do you want to win? Who do you think will win?

And am I the only one who feels like the Stanley Cup Playoffs are always cool, but absolutely taking a back seat to the Four Nations Tournament this year?

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The Art of Storytelling, the obligatory bird nerd nonsense, and a whole lot of Muppets. Odds-n-Ends for April 17.

So many odds-n-ends today. Let’s get into it.

Anne and I are doing a Momentus Event together on April 27 at 10am Pacific. What is this, exactly? I’m so glad you asked.

It’s The Art of Storytelling!

Join us for an inspiring virtual event featuring creative juggernauts Anne and Wil Wheaton as they dive into the craft of storytelling, their writing processes, and the art of developing creative ideas. Whether you’re an aspiring writer, a seasoned storyteller, or simply a fan of great stories, this fun discussion will provide valuable insights into the creative journey.

Anne, a lifelong rescue pet advocate, will discuss her popular children’s book “Piggy and Pug” — a heartwarming tale about the journey of Pug, who’s searching for a new family, and Piggy, who’s looking for a new friend.

Wil, a celebrated writer, actor, and geek culture icon, will talk about the process behind his best-selling annotated memoir, “Still Just A Geek,” which continues to sell out at bookstores around the world.

Upgrade your ticket to include a copy of “Piggy & Pug” by Anne Wheaton and an exclusive character enamel pin set! Meet-and-greets will include a copy of Wil’s “Still Just A Geek” while supplies last!

They’ll share their personal experiences, challenges, and successes in the writing world. They’ll discuss how to cultivate original ideas, overcome writer’s block, and craft compelling, resonant artistic ventures.

The conversation will be followed by a Q&A session, allowing attendees to ask questions and gain deeper insights from their perspectives.

Don’t miss this opportunity to be part of an inspiring discussion about the power of stories and the creative process behind them!

Reserve your spot now and get ready to be inspired.

Some of our friends have done these events, and they tell us that they love them. We are both looking forward to hanging out. We can’t make any promises, because cats, but we’ll do our best to get Marlowe and Watson to come say hello.

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It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton episode 4 – The Hidden Heart of Brass Attending by Christopher Scott

It’s Wednesday (it’s only Wednesday? It’s only Wednesday.) and that means we have a new podcast for you!

This week, it’s The Hidden Heart of Brass Attending, by Christopher Scott. Here’s my introduction:

The heart wants what it wants, and it will fight for it with a passion and fury that is unimaginable until you fall in love and feel it for yourself.

Today, I’ll take you to a time when a fulfilling a heart’s most intimate desire could lead to prison or worse. A time when the truth of who you loved had to be hidden away in the most secretive places. A time when even the most powerful men could be destroyed with a carefully uttered whisper.

You are about to meet one of those men, at a moment of great consequence in his life, a moment when his heart’s desire is at his fingertips, if only he can grasp a cold, brass hand and find The Hidden Heart of Brass Attending.

Fun fact: Christopher Scott is one of my oldest friends. He’s been writing since we were teenagers, so when On Spec bought this story, we celebrated. I thought it would be cool to narrate it and send it to him, as a way of congratulating him and marking the milestone. I was opening Audacity to do just that when the idea that became It’s Storytime exploded out of the same place that birthed Tabletop. It has taken a lot longer than I expected, and the thing I planned to give my friend is now something I’m giving all of you. I trust that you all know how to share.

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I also have a Patreon with an ad-free feed and some nifty extras that didn’t fit into the primary show, if you want to support me that way.

Thanks for listening, thanks for subscribing, thanks to everyone who has rated and reviewed us. I appreciate it.

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blogging to an ocean, hear the comments roar

Inside of me, there is an ocean of creativity in which I swim, dive, or sail whenever I want to tell a story or make A Thing Where There Was Not A Thing Before. When the tide is up, getting into that ocean is as easy as taking a couple of steps. When the tide is out, I have to walk across the biggest, stinkiest, muck-covered mud flat you can imagine. I can do it, because I am awesome, but by the time I get to the water’s edge, I’m so tired and drained, I don’t have much energy left to do whatever I went there for in the first place. And whatever I do make usually stinks a little bit.

I used to believe that I could force the tide to come in, could pull it in all on my own, by reading or listening to music or consuming inspirational entertainment. This was a profound misunderstanding of “if you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write” that took me years and way too many demoralizing and unproductive walks across that mud flat to correct.

You all know this already: the tide moves on its own. It’s too busy enjoying its dance with the Moon to care about humans. It does not even notice that we exist. Nothing I did affected it, and even though I think I knew that, I didn’t want to admit that I was overwhelming myself as a consumer, so I’d feel productive until it came in, right on its own schedule, and I could go back to being a creator and feeling productive.

All too often, I found myself standing on the shore, toes touching the water, entirely too exhausted to get in. And before I knew it, the tide was headed back out to sea. If I caught any of it at all, I still had to slog through a lot of stinky mud on my way back.

I became aware of this artistic tide about a year ago. And ever since, I have done my best to allow (encourage) myself to rest when the tide is out. The resting is what matters. For me, Rest looks like a lot of different things. I watch a lot of movies, or none at all. I catch up on entire seasons of tv shows, revisit old favorites. I play video games. I start a lot of books, and finish some of them. I go on long walks alone and with Anne. I spend entire days doing as close to nothing as possible. I encourage myself to get bored, to let my mind wander and sketch out something I may want to go looking for when the tide comes back in. And I do it all without looking at the calendar, at the clock, or any tide charts (which don’t exist in this metaphor, because if they did it would collapse and I just need you to let me have this.)

The last time the tide was in, I made the most of it. I had a lot of fun. I don’t think I even got out of the water for more than a few hours at a time for weeks. I wrote a cyberpunk short story about my friend’s Crocs turning him into a zombie, a Wesley Crusher story for the Star Trek comic, a whole bunch of stuff that’s not ready for publication, some pretty good blog posts. It was awesome, and though I was sad to watch it go, I was ready to get out and dry off when it left. I was ready to rest, looking forward to it, to be honest.

But the tide has been out for a lot longer than I can remember it being recently, and I’ve been pining for it. I’ve taken a few steps into the mud a little bit, found a few puddles, and what I’ve written and created there has been fine. I bet you didn’t even notice it was a little stinky. But the ocean is still far away. It’s not my favourite thing (hi Canada. I love you and I’m sorry about all this bullshit) but I guess I must have matured as an artist, or I feel more comfortable with myself as an artist, (and maybe that’s the exact same thing, resulting in a version of myself who is kinder and more patient with me than I used to be) because I fully accept that the tide is not mine to influence, let alone control. It’s okay to rest, so I’m ready when it gets here.

Oh hey. I just looked up, noticed that I’ve wandered way out into the mud, and I’m suddenly tired and stinky. But I’ve come this far from the beach so I could share how happy I am that last week, I thought that maybe I felt the wind shift, or the pressure change, the way it does when the tide comes in. And just before I wrote this paragraph, I think I glimpsed a thin, fiery shimmer on the horizon.

I appreciate you coming with me on this walk. Sorry about the mud. It washes out.

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