For Ilya Kovalchuk, it was the perfect contract. When Devils president Lou Lamoriello made the star forward a $102 million offer last summer, the first thing that caught the 27-year-old Kovalchuk's eye was the length of the deal: 17 years. To many in the league, that was a laughable number, one that would have kept Kovalchuk playing in New Jersey until he was 44. But Kovalchuk, who has scored a league-best 341 goals since entering the NHL in 2001, didn't find the duration of the contract funny—he had been seeking a long-term deal. Instead he thought it was fate. "That number," he says, "means a lot to me."
Kovalchuk proudly wears the number 17 on his sweater, primarily as an homage to his father's favorite player, Valeri Kharlamov, another left wing and an icon of Soviet hockey who died in a car accident in 1981 at age 33. In Russia, Kharlamov's number has the same cultural gravitas that 99 carries in Canada. But its significance to Kovalchuk runs deeper than that. His first two children with his wife, Nicole, were born on Oct. 1 and Feb. 7, respectively. And his life changed forever four years ago with the death of his father, Valeri, the man who shaped him as a hockey player, on July 17. "It's with me everywhere," Kovalchuk says of his number.
Lamoriello didn't know how much the number meant to Kovalchuk. Neither did the NHL. Hours after Kovalchuk signed the contract on July 19, the league voided the agreement on grounds that it circumvented the salary cap by artificially lowering Kovalchuk's yearly cap hit with "throwaway years" at the end. (The deal would have paid Kovalchuk almost 97% of the $102 million in the first 11 years of the contract.) The dispute dragged on for three weeks. An arbitrator upheld the league's decision on Aug. 9, and 19 days later Kovalchuk signed a 15-year, $100 million contract with New Jersey that increased his cap number from $6 million (under the voided deal) to $6.67 million. As a result of the ordeal the players' association agreed to new, stricter regulations governing front-loaded long-term contracts.
It was unheard of for the Devils—one of the NHL's most conservative franchises under the hypercontrolling Lamoriello—to expend so much money and effort on one player. Then again, it had been out of character for the team to trade for Kovalchuk last February. The conventional wisdom around the league (and even inside New Jersey's dressing room) held that Kovalchuk, who was due to be paid about $2.5 million for his two-month stint in the Garden State, was just a high-priced rental. He was, after all, a one-way forward on a tight-checking club committed to defense, a pure scorer with a grand total of four playoff games to his credit. But there was something that Lamoriello liked about Kovalchuk, something the G.M. would go to great lengths to keep.
In theory, the addition of a sniper who averages 42.3 goals per season will fortify an offense that rarely lights up opposing nets. For years the Devils have skated by with middling attacks, playing sound defense and trusting in their nonpareil goaltender, Martin Brodeur. On the eve of the 2010--11 season, the club had allowed only 1,716 goals over the last 10 years, by far the fewest in the league. But the 38-year-old Brodeur is nearing the end of his Hall of Fame career, and postlockout rules changes have all but eliminated the neutral zone trap that New Jersey used to win three Stanley Cups between 1995 and 2003. The team is at a crossroads. The addition of Kovalchuk, a creative playmaker, was not just an attempt to address a nagging deficiency; it was also the Devils' crack at joining the rest of the NHL in the 21st century—a bold move to bring to New Jersey the kind of young offensive talent that fans in Pittsburgh and Washington take for granted.
But in practice the deal has been a disaster. Kovalchuk's contract and its repercussions have mired the Devils in salary-cap woes and chemistry issues. The team that finished atop the Atlantic Division four times in the last five years now sits in the conference cellar (4-10-1). "I don't think anybody expected us to be behind the eight ball early on," says Brodeur. "When we played against teams that had a lot of firepower all those years, we just sat back and waited for them to get impatient, and that's exactly what [they're doing to us] now. It's like the total reverse."
The result is a club in disarray, with almost too many recent breakdowns to count. After the Devils took a 1--0 lead early in the second period against Boston on Oct. 16, the Bruins poured in four unanswered goals in less than 15 minutes. Eleven days later, in San Jose, the Sharks' top line scored every goal in a 5--2 victory. "It was like they were playing against kids," Brodeur told reporters after the game.
Kovalchuk started slowly, in part because coach John MacLean installed him out of position, on the right wing alongside top-line center Travis Zajac and left wing Zach Parise. Kovalchuk scored just three goals in the first 14 games and checked in at --6. He was moved back to left wing on the second line with center Jason Arnott and winger Patrik Elias on Oct. 24 but returned to the first line a week later after Parise was lost for three months with a torn meniscus in his right knee. In Kovalchuk's first game on the left, alongside Zajac, he had two assists in a 5--3 victory over the Blackhawks.
The struggles have reinforced the notion that Kovalchuk is not a team player, that he is only concerned with looking out for No. 1—or, rather, 17. And his costly contract has made him an easy target for criticism in the media and resentment in the dressing room. When he was a healthy scratch—reportedly for having been late to a team meeting—at a home game against the Sabres on Oct. 23, the club's detractors noted that the Devils had wasted $81,300 on the bench, throwing away money that the club could barely afford to spend in the first place. He's become the gift that keeps on taking.
But those who know Kovalchuk best say the image of him as a me-first superstar is unfounded. "People ask me all the time if he's a selfish player, and I say, 'Absolutely not,' " says Thrashers president Don Waddell, who made Kovalchuk the first Russian to be taken as the top pick in the NHL draft, in 2001. "He just wants to do what he can to help the team win, and in his mind, a lot of the time, he's got to be the guy to score the goals."