Through all the pyrotechnics, the caged go-go dancers, the aerial artists and the metal band known for X-rated lyrics, Paul Stanley alternately sat, stood and fretted – eyes fixated on the field – as he found his football team ensnared in yet another tight game.

Next to him, LA Kiss co-owner Brett Bouchy had already slammed his hand hard over a penalty. Kiss coach Bob McMillen – his hardened face reddening over the same whistle – came over to Bouchy and railed against the referees, using language the aforementioned metal band would dig. Bouchy seethed.

Stanley said the Kiss have hyped their arrival in Southern California and, with Saturday’s home opener against the Portland Thunder, it was time to, as Quiet Riot once sang, “put up or shut it up.”

Stanley said bluntly about 90 minutes before kickoff: “I want to win.”

A HANDS-OFF EXPERIENCE

As with most things involving the rock group Kiss, “win” is an all-encompassing word – think wide receiver Rod Tidwell’s soliloquy on “quan” in the football fable “Jerry Maguire.” By bringing an Arena Football League team to an area devoid of the NFL since 1995 after the Raiders and Rams split to Oakland and St. Louis, respectively, Kiss saw a chance to cash in.

“We are the black sheep of rock ’n’ roll,” Stanley said. “And we’re going to be the black sheep of arena football.

“And arena football is already the black sheep of football.”

Stanley and co-owner Gene Simmons always thumbed their noses – or in Simmons’ case, uncoiled his tongue – at the establishment, whatever that might be. The NFL? Simmons has called it “a snore.” The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction for the band later this year? Kiss won’t play it because the band couldn’t call the shots.

But Saturday night at the Honda Center, Stanley was getting an object lesson in less-familiar territory: not being in control.

In this case, he was ceding it to a bunch of players making a fraction of what they would make in the NFL, all while bearing the Kiss brand on uniforms otherwise festooned with flames.

“When I’m performing, it’s on my shoulders 100 percent,” Stanley said.

“But I can only do so much here. The rest is up to the team.”

Which is why, deep into the fourth quarter, with the Kiss up only 37-34 against a winless Thunder, Stanley’s always-on sunglasses were off, and he was standing with actual fans as the loudspeakers blasted Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It.”

Sure, Nita Strauss of the female Iron Maiden tribute band, the Iron Maidens, amped up the crowd with her metal-infused licks, and the go-go dancers were writhing on poles, and the fans had attempted at least one feeble wave. When it mattered, the event was an actual football game.

It wasn’t until Kiss quarterback J.J. Raterink found wide receiver Donovan Morgan splitting the seam for a late touchdown, putting his team up by 10, that Stanley allowed himself a smile.

An interception of the Thunder quarterback with a few ticks on the clock turned Stanley positively lively. He high-fived Bouchy and Kiss President Schuyler Hoversten. He smiled again. The Kiss were 1-0 at home and 2-1 overall.

“So far, people bought tickets on faith,” Stanley said. “Now they are buying on fact.”

‘SPORTS MEETS CIRCUS’

Getting to that final whistle of the first home game was billed by Stanley and co-owners Gene Simmons and Doc McGhee as a hold-your-breath-and-don’t-blink-because-you-might-miss-something-nearly-naked-or-on-fire moment.

The run-up to what Stanley termed a “sports meets circus” event was also, at times, a hold-your-breath affair for management. For example, plan A called for lowering four players, including Raterink, onto the field in a metal pod, amid smoke and music and the roar of the crowd. But because the Anaheim Ducks had played the night before, rehearsals were crammed into a window so tight that Hoversten said they delayed letting fans into the arena by 30 minutes to finish test runs.

There were other challenges. Simmons was sick enough that he was being treated like a basketball player with four fouls – brought out only for key moments before heading back to the bowels of the Honda Center to lie down. Dressed in leather pants and black cowboy boots, Simmons fist-bumped a few performers and behind-the-scenes technicians working before the game. He looked up at the pod about to test-drop Raterink and three other players slowly to the ground. A burst of pyrotechnics caused a few people to jump; the go-go dancers discussed which cage they wanted to occupy.

“This has got to be what a mother feels like when having a baby,” Simmons said, watching the pod gently swing from the rafters as the players stood on the narrow catwalk about 100 feet above the field. Raterink and Morgan took it in stride. Andre Jones, a defensive back who is afraid of heights? Less so.

But the pod dropped without a hitch. The players jogged off. Hoversten exhaled.

Still, Kiss officials wanted to give it one more run. The four guys in Steel Panther wanted to give it a try. So the pod raised the leopard-print and leather-clad men up to the rafters before lowering them back down.

Soon, Thunder players trotted onto the field. A few more pyro bursts lit up the field and radiated heat into the front rows.

Portland Thunder defensive player T.J. Fatinikun took it all in and laughed.

“I like this.”

THE SHOW GOES ON

In the tunnel, prior to kickoff, Simmons came out briefly, but then ducked back behind an adjacent doorway.

Stanley stood with LA Kiss players, jumping to stay loose. The cheerleaders, also in tight leather and clutching silver and black pompoms, went over routines in the confined space. Out on the field, only two players – Jones and Morgan – actually arrived via sky pod. It had inadvertently begun to descend before Raterink and another player could climb in.

“I was scared stiff,” Jones said. “But then I heard the roar of the crowd, and saw all the smoke. It was one of the best experiences of my life.”

The rest of the team waited in the tunnel as the cheerleaders ran through a huge steel funnel filled with laser lights and yet more smoke.

When Steel Panther launched into the Kiss hit “Rock and Roll All Nite,” wide receiver Samie Parker sang along and Stanley nodded with the beat, arms folded.

Defensive player Mervin Brookins walked up and gave Stanley a hug.

“Thank you, Paul,” he said. “Thank you.”

After the game, Stanley said there were things to be improved.

Some of the lighting didn’t work out the way he hoped. Sometimes, the music played over on-field action.

Still, in the tunnel after the game, after the celebrations and the autographs, Stanley was preparing to leave – satisfied.

Behind him, stages were being broken down and the field was prepared to become a hockey rink again. The LA Kiss will do it all again Saturday against the Cleveland Gladiators.

“Winning wasn’t everything,” Stanley said, channeling his inner Vince Lombardi. “It was the only thing.”

Stanley then got into a black SUV. It drove slowly up a ramp, dodging parked trucks and moving people.

The brakes were never touched.

Contact the writer: dmontero@ocregister.com