Everyone remembers their first true love, and in hockey mine was the Los Angeles Kings. I'm not sure how they came to be so, but they did. The place was the Great Western Forum, in the LA suburb of Inglewood, out near the airport. The date was February 14 1996. Valentine's Day. How fitting.
I didn't, though, have a date with the Kings, instead I had a night with the Lakers. For my day job as a music journalist, I'd flown in to interview Slayer. Someone from American Recordings asked if I wanted a ticket to see LA play the Atlanta Hawks? It was my second visit to the US and my first live sporting event not to feature Barnsley Football Club. How much was the ticket, I wondered? It was free, I was told. "No, really? Wow, cool!"
I can't really explain why I didn't fall in love with the Lakers that night, just as I can't really explain why I did tumble for the Kings. I don't recall how I even knew their name. Perhaps it was from a picture of one of the members of the band Bad Religion wearing their shirt, the cool black and white one that Wayne Gretzky used to wear in the 80s and 90s. But from a seat close enough to the paint to see Jack Nicholson's courtside seat, plus the sweat on Magic Johnson and Nick Van Exel's deltoids, I asked the man sitting next to me if this was the arena in which the Los Angeles Kings played.
Struggling Kings are hockey royalty in more than just name (Gaurdian Unltd) 
