Denis Brodeur, the goaltender's father and longtime hockey photographer, was sitting against the glass at the faceoff circle next to Fisher. Together, they were shooting Brodeur's historic game, which the Devils would win 3-1.
"I said to Marty, 'I've got eight games left, so you hang on and make history and I'll have this photo for my wall of shame of my final trip into Montreal,'" Koharski said. "Marty looks over, sees his dad and Fish and he puts this (expletive) grin on his face. It's an awesome photo."
Fisher would shoot another wonderful image that night - Brodeur father and son beaming outside the Devils dressing room, Denis with his camera around his neck, Martin in a team track suit holding a Canadiens-crested puck with "551" written on adhesive tape across its face.
Today, Canadiens fans adore Martin Brodeur, a native of Montreal.
Not that it always has been that way.
Arguably the greatest goaltender in NHL history, Brodeur has morphed in Montreal from a villain as a player to a hero in retirement, having been a railroad spike-sized thorn in the side of the Canadiens throughout his glittering career.
As the Devils prepare to celebrate Brodeur on Tuesday, retiring his jersey in a ceremony at Prudential Center, Canadiens fans are feeling a cozy warmth about the legendary goaltender, no longer the arctic-icy feeling they had toward him not so long ago.
Brodeur was Public Enemy No. 1 in Montreal purely for statistical reasons.
Consider his record against the Canadiens:
When he finally unbuckled his pads for good, Brodeur had played 70 regular-season games against Montreal, winning 45, losing 19 and tying one, with nine shutouts, a goals-against average of 1.83 and a save percentage of .930.
He was frighteningly good on Montreal ice, going 20-9-1 at Bell Centre with five shutouts, a 1.64 GAA and .940 save percentage.
There was Brodeur's offense too: the first of his three career goals came against the Canadiens in New Jersey on April 17, 1997, the puck shot from behind his own net, on one knee, to center ice on the fly and down into the vacated Montreal net.