Devils Best, Worst and Most Unusual Pt. 1 | 40 YEARS WITH STAN

Stan Fischler has some of the best stories around when it comes to all his years with the New Jersey Devils, in this edition of 40 Years with Stan, he shares some of his Best, Worst, and Most Unusual happenings that he remembers so very well.
- Amanda Stein, Lead Reporter NJD.TV

WORST DISAPPOINTMENT WHEN LOSING A KEY PLAYER:

After Jacques Lemaire coached New Jersey to its first Stanley Cup in 1995, the club appeared destined to repeat as champions in the ensuing seasons. But, as often happens, unexpected challenges emerged and the promise remained unfulfilled.
Arguably, the biggest shocker took place during the 1998 playoffs against the Ottawa Senators. This was a postseason matchup that had New Jersey as a clear favorite.
New Jersey had finished first in the Atlantic Division with a handsome mark of 48-23-11 for 107 points. Ottawa ended its campaign 24 points behind the Devils.
Now, they met in the best-of-seven opening round with the first two games in East Rutherford.
"We got off to a bad start," conceded Bobby Holik, who had paced the Garden Staters with 65 points including 29 goals and a team-leading eight game-winners.
Ottawa won the opener, the last Game two, and then proceeded to capture the next two games at home. The Devils staved off elimination with a victory in Game Five at The Meadowlands.
"It looked like we could take them in Ottawa," said Holik, "and then wrap it up back in Jersey."
What mattered now was that it came down to the make-or-break Game Six at Ottawa. It was a game of redemption and those of us on the tv side felt very comfortable that the series would be extended -- until the morning of Game Six.
Around 10 a.m. we showed up to prepare for interviews with coach Lemaire and the players. Suddenly, it was pointed out that star center Holik -- right in his playing prime -- was missing. Concern among our crew -- not to mention the Devils' high command -- deepened to high anxiety.
"Bobby means everything to this club," one of our tech guys pointed out. "What's going on?"
That's the point. We had no idea what was wrong with Bobby nor whether he'd play that night in the most crucial of games. But that was only half of the team's troubles. Now, coach Lemaire was involved in a nasty post-practice scrum.
Jacques exited the Devils dressing room and -- in a very tight corridor -- was confronted by at least two writers, possibly a third. I was about ten yards away when I heard the decibel counts rise -- and rise some more. I turned toward the commotion and only could discern a heated argument that ended with Lemaire exiting Stage Left en route to his hotel.
Only later that day did we get word in our tv truck. "Bobby got stomach poisoning and he won't be able to play."
Still, some of us thought a couple of Tums might fix Holik's stomach pains but it was more than that. No question; he was scratched from the lineup and the pain was felt on the Devils bench and in the dressing room post-game.
Minus Holik, New Jersey lost the game 3-1 and was booted out of the 1998 playoffs in a spring when a trip to the Final had once seemed possible.
For months thereafter, we speculated about what Holik must have eaten to cause the distress. Not that I needed any confirmation, but when I asked MSG Networks what title to name his "Worst" for my story, he wasted no time shooting back, "Bobby Holik getting poisoned in Ottawa."

MOST UNUSUAL TV HAPPENING:

One of my favorite things about playing a game in Philadelphia -- apart from beating the Flyers -- was the action on the ice as well as off ice where I conducted some of my favorite interviews. Eric Lindros, Jeremy Roenick, and Ron Hextall rank at the top of my list because each in his own way was compelling and -- in the case of Roenick -- sometimes very funny.
But when it comes to "Unusual TV Happenings." the episode involving Catholic priest, Rev. Ed Casey, is regarded both by me, Matt Loughlin, and MSG Networks producer Roland Dratch as about as unusual as it ever could get; and here's why:
For starters, let me point out that Father Casey and I had been pals for years since we share not only a love for hockey but trains and trolley cars as well. Because of our friendship, Ed would ask me to send him a note a few days before our Devils at Flyers game, In that way, we could enjoy yet another reunion and schmooze about the hockey scene.
The "problem" was that the Flyers had just moved from their original home, The Spectrum, to what now is the Wells Fargo Center. And Father Casey never had visited our studio in the new building; which meant that his geography was in need of a lesson that I could not give.
Problem Two had to do with major tech difficulties with our tv truck from where all live and taped pre-game and in-game and post-game productions emanated. It was so bad, in fact, producer Roland Dratch declared, "All pre-game interviews will have to be done live and not taped. It will be a one-shot; for better or worse."
Now picture this, if you will. Matt Loughlin's pre-game interview with John Madden -- originally to be taped -- would be done live. Madden arrived on time and was hooked up with a microphone as was Loughlin. Everyone knew that the interview would have to be a one-shot and that was that.
Pro that he is, Matty launched the chat and Johnny was, as usual, a good interview.
I was sitting at the far end of the studio about ten yards from the entrance. I was so entranced by Madden's answers that I completely forgot that Father Casey was coming to visit. But Pal Ed had not forgotten, nor did he have any idea that a live interview was going on when he opened the far door and immediately saw me at the other end of the studio.
With a wide grin on his face, the amiable priest caught my eyes and proceeded hellbent to deliver his usual big 'Hello!" Mind you, at no time did the Father realize that Matty was plumb in the middle of the interview, as Ed pranced directly in front of the interview and westward to my chair at the other end of the studio.
Meanwhile, producer Dratch -- upon seeing his interview being "ruined" by the priest -- could not believe his eyes but his imprecations to the rest of the truck members could have been heard in Delaware and very likely points South and East.
Completed unaware of his faux pas, Ed greeted me and watched while the Loughlin-Madden interview was completed without further interruption.
Now that should have been the end of the story but as luck -- good or bad depending on your viewpoint -- would have it, there was a very funny ending.
The beginning of that "ending" was a one-minute Matt and The Maven discussion of the game ahead. After that, we'd "throw" it to Doc Emrick and Chico Resch in the booth.
This brings me to Problem Number Three.
Normally, in addition to our fine cameraman, Mike Finn, we'd have at least two technical workers in the room to provide help when needed. But on this night there were none -- and that would pove near-fatal as you will see.
So, vision this; Dratch is counting down to me and Matty when -- with about 15 seconds to us -- the network curtain behind us begins slowly but surely, slipping down. And except for Finn, the cameraman, there was no one in the studio to grab the curtain.
Suddenly, with about ten seconds to me and Matty, Finn abandons his camera, sprints to the curtain and -- with about five seconds to us -- fixes it and dashes back to his camera.
With two seconds left, producer Dratch -- you should know, one of the funniest guys I ever met -- tells Matty and me in our earpieces: "NEXT TIME HAVE THE FATHER FIX IT!"
Roland's wisecrack went straight to our respective funnybones and, simultaneously, we cracked up on camera. Now, the Final Problem was that neither Matty nor myself could crack down.
When we should have been detailing the upcoming -- and very big -- game, we couldn't stop laughing. Finally, jaws clamped together, I braked my guffaw in the hopes that Matty would follow suit; but he did not, whereupon I busted out like a nut case and, this time, Loughlin tried to stop the nonsense.
He succeeded for about eight seconds -- just as I previously had done -- but couldn't suppress the explosion any further.
"You guys carried on for the entire minute," recalled an incredulous Father Casey who had no idea that Roland's mention of him ignited the broadcast bedlam. Incredible as it may seem, we laughed all the way through the one-minute break whereupon producer Dratch "threw" it up to Doc and Chico.
Only later did we learn that Emrick and Resch could only say, "What was going on with those guys?"
Well, now you know!