When championship-caliber hockey is mentioned in and around Southern California, McSorley’s stick still sticks in the collective craw.

But maybe not anymore.

The Ducks have no demons in their past to exorcise, save for perhaps their loss in the 2003 Stanley Cup finals in seven games to the New Jersey Devils. But that will be remembered as a spirited and hard-fought series, not as a cauldron of controversy.

They’re just a bunch of lunch-pail guys, many of whom might be mistaken for well-spoken lumberjacks if Anaheim were in British Columbia. Scott and Rob Niedermayer, Jean-Sebastien Giguere, Samuel Pahlsson, Travis Moen, Ryan Getzlaf, Dustin Penner, et al., might each be mistaken for the guy who comes out of the back room and changes the kegs at your local sports bar. Only Teemu Selanne and Chris Pronger possess a flicker of star quality that might cause somebody in the region to divert their eyes from the latest Lindsay Lohan car accident to do a brief double take.

Hockey is the most unlikely rescuer to resuscitate championship hopes in the Southern California area. The ratings for the sport are miniscule nationally, and only slightly higher in and around the L.A. market when the Ducks are strutting in the postseason. Hockey is a niche sport, and Anaheim is a cubbyhole.

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But the Ducks can wiggle with glee today, because they don’t have to take a back seat to the Lakers, Dodgers, Angels, Kings, Clippers or any other showoff neighbor. They can finally say they’re the toasts of the town. They can finally say they rule the roost.

They can finally say that they’re champions, which says it all.