Ahhh, hockey culture. The only sport in which taking a blunt object to the face and uncontrollably gushing blood from between your eyes is an act more prideful than actually catching it. I want to say this dude, who I would imagine was at least mildly drunk, was perhaps a little too pleased with his immediate need for stitches considering his victory lap lasted about 3x longer than most people within a two seat radius would have liked. Still, you have to give the man credit for trying to "play" through his injury as every germaphobe in attendance was having an anxiety attack. You legit would have thought that wayward puck was headed to the back of the net in the final seconds of a series clinching playoff game with how pumped he was after blocking it with his face, and that's the type of enthusiasm necessary to make onlookers forget that it only did because he wasn't paying enough attention from his ice-front seats. The celebration was probably a bit too self-aggrandizing since he accomplished less than Marcia Brady in displaying the same proclivity for taking one off the nose, but that's what you get when you mix the bright lights of Los Angeles with hockey's bloody badges of honor. Fifteen seconds of fame, a battle wound, and a Kings win...what more can a narcissistic fan ask for!
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