Bedeviled In Jersey

The New Jersey Devils, who are more serious than C-SPAN and watched by about as many people, returned to the Meadowlands for Game 5 of the Stanley Cup finals on Thursday after squandering a two-game series lead to the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim. The 1-0 overtime victory by the Ducks on Monday injected a sorely needed jolt into the matches if not necessarily into the TV ratings, which tend to shrivel in the austere presence of a New Jersey franchise that inspires as much ambivalence as admiration. Too bad, because the Devils are practically everything that is right about sports: They win often, and they win as a team.

If New Jersey finishes off Anaheim, the Devils will match the accomplishments of the fair-haired Detroit Red Wings over the nine seasons since 1994-95: three Cups, four appearances in the finals and six 100-point seasons. New Jersey has certified stars, but its top players—goaltender Martin Brodeur, the NHL's best since Patrick Roy announced his retirement last week in a shameless scene-stealing moment, and captain Scott Stevens, the most feared blueliner of his generation-are defenders. They comport themselves without the self-aggrandizing that leads to bulletin-board quotes like the one thoughtfully provided by Anaheim fourth-liner Dan Bylsma, who said before the finals that he looked forward to having Stevens shake his hand and congratulate him on winning the Cup. Perhaps just as important in these financially tight times, the Devils win on a relatively slim budget; their $52 million payroll this season was about 35% less than the profligate New York Rangers'. They throw hard work and commitment at problems instead of money.

So why does New Jersey win Stanley Cups but not the fans' hearts and minds? The answer: The Devils are victims of their franchise location, playing style and front-office attitude. This is largely due to circumstance, but some of the damage is self-inflicted.

The 21-year-old New Jersey club represents a buzz-free bedroom state, which precludes having the sort of cachet that envelops Original Six teams such as the sexy Red Wings. This is hardly the Devils' fault. Nor can the team be blamed for playing to its strength, a constipating defense whose effectiveness in the 1995 Cup finals heralded the yawn of a new era in the NHL. On the ice the Devils seem dull even when they take the fire wagon out for a spin, as they did in the wacky second period of their 3-2 overtime loss in Game 3 last Saturday, when the two teams traded rushes like penny stocks. "I hear people talk about our boring hockey," New Jersey defenseman Tommy Albelin said last Friday, "but I watched the tape of Game 7 [of the Eastern Conference finals] against Ottawa and thought it was awesome. Back and forth. Lots of scoring chances. I don't know what is meant by boring style."

The Devils do not do a good job of attracting fans and selling tickets, which is their fault. Team president Lou Lamoriello has never fretted much about empty seats in the 19,040-capacity Continental Airlines Arena—New Jersey averaged 14,859 fans during the regular season and did not sell out a home playoff game until the third round—or about ephemera such as TV numbers. (Game last Thursday drew a 1.4 rating on) The Devils' success must speak for itself, because they make it hard for anyone else to speak for it. They did not allow NHL Productions to mike their bench area—a request that the Ducks granted—and in a delicious moment of paranoia that epitomized the New Jersey front office, a staffer checked for microphones under the bench and around the lip of the boards be fore Game 1 to make sure no one had pulled a fast one.

The Devils also stiffed ESPN and ABC, which enter the final season of a five-year, $600 million contract with the NHL next fall, by not making coach Pat Burns available for quick interviews just before the puck dropped in each game of the finals or permitting players to be interviewed away from the rink. Commissioner Gary Bettman had to intercede on ESPN's behalf to get a camera and a reporter placed between the benches during the first two games in New Jersey. "I've had it with Lou Lamoriello," says Mark Quenzel, ESPN's senior vice president of programming and production. "With Lamoriello, if you try to show anything but the rolling puck, it's no. He cares only about his team, not trying to market the NHL."

The Devils are unconcerned with the Big Picture if it interferes with the team picture traditionally taken on the ice after winning the Cup. The first New Jersey player who would hoist the chalice is Stevens, the personification of the fierce, quiet Devils. The 6'1", 215-pound captain plays with a physical, almost feral style, unlike any other 39-year-old defenseman in history. "He has presence," says teammate Ken Daneyko, who, like Stevens, was drafted in 1982. "This is why he'll go down as maybe the best defenseman ever." (Loyalty is one thing, forgetting about Bobby Orr is another.)

Stevens has never won a Norris Trophy, but he has won more games—regular-season and playoff—than any other NHL player except Mark Messier. Stevens passed Larry Robinson's postseason record for games by a defenseman with his 228th playoff match last Thursday in Game 2. This proved to be Groundhog Day at the Meadowlands, complete with Bill Murray (the name of the Devils' trainer) and a second straight 3-0 rocking-chair shutout for Brodeur in which New Jersey limited the Mighty Ducks to the same puny 16 shots they had in Game 1. When Anaheim star left wing Paul Kariya appeared to find a sliver of open ice in the second period of Game 2, Stevens skated across the rink and smacked him into the boards; Kariya, who was held without a shot for the first time in 30 career playoff games, all but disappeared.

"I carried the puck a little more than Scott," says Robinson, a Hall of Famer who is the Devils' special assignment coach, "but he did everything I could do and maybe more. He could have played in any era. Maybe Scott isn't as offensive-minded as Denis Potvin or Raymond Bourque, doesn't play a lot of power play, but in terms of importance to his club, there's been nobody better."

Teammates call him Dad, which is warmer than his earlier NHL nickname, Bam Bam. Stevens earned that with his concussive checks and caveman style. A hothead who was easily goaded into brawls—he averaged 204 penalty minutes his first eight seasons with the Washington Capitals—Stevens has become more disciplined, in large part because Lamoriello's Devils do not allow players to indulge themselves. Stevens was obtained by New Jersey in September 1991 and had an epiphany in the mid-'90s under coach Jacques Lemaire, who schooled him on keeping his temper in check. In the past seven seasons Stevens has reached the 100-minute mark in penalties just once.