There are about three minutes left in the third period. The Los Angeles Kings have killed the Edmonton Oilers and are having their way with the body, yet the good guys still hold a 3-2 lead thanks to Devan Dubnyk's heroics. Our two intrepid losers have hopped over the boards about thirty seconds ago. This isn't a terribly long shift for them: they both stayed out for 2:16 back in the second period. Which perhaps makes their ensuing failure all the more dramatic.
There are two of them, an old one and a young one. The old one skates into the corner to take on tonight's Master of the High Events, Fredrik Modin, in a race to the puck. Fredrik Modin is very slow and a long way out. So far out that Devan Dubnyk actually skates most of the way to the puck, as if to ask the old one "you got this? I can take, this, man. You sure you've got this one?" But the old one ushers the goaltender back, and of course nearly loses the race to the puck, just grappling it away from his opponent who, lest we forget, is still Fredrik Modin.
The old one manages to do his job, somehow, getting it to Dustin Penner who slings the puck around the boards to Andrew Cogliano who tries to take it out. But, this being Andrew Cogliano, he turns it over, actually giving the puck up as he sees a hit coming from Wayne Simmonds and letting it squirt out to Rob Scuderi at the point.
Scuderi bombs in a slap shot, which Dubnyk saves but kicks out a long rebound on. Now. This is where the young one comes in. The old one is in no position to help, as he is standing alone in front of Dubnyk essentially screening his own goaltender. The rebound kicks out past the old one, but the young one is not in position to gather the rebound. So he can use his not-inconsiderable speed to go after Michal Handzus, bearing down on that puck like a runaway freight train. Or he can get his stick out and try to interfere with Handzus, or he can yell to the old one "you useless piece of shit, pick up your man". What he can't do is exactly what he did: lunging out, leaving his feet, and trying to poke a bouncing puck on choppy California-in-April late-third-period ice while putting himself completely out of the play whatever might result even if he does manage to hit the bullseye and actually make meaningful contact on that puck.
He does not make meaningful contact on that puck, and it winds up right on the stick of Handzus. The old one is still there, in pretty much the exact position he was before, seemingly unaware that there is, in fact, a hockey game on and that he should probably so something about the Slovakian in that prime scoring position.
He is also still screening Devan Dubnyk, but the old one is very old and no longer skates so well or, apparently, at all.
He leans towards Handzus, putting shoulder to shoulder as Handzus turns to shoot. What, precisely, the old one expected to achieve with this is between him and his coaches. He winds up achieving very little, and Handzus puts the puck between Dubnyk's legs. Overtime.