Recently, I decided to incorporate some reading into my August posts. Books written by Doc and Chico were a great starting point, and gave me a lot to think about.
My first hockey memories are not of the New Jersey Devils. I was born too late to remember any of their three Stanley Cups, and only became a fan in time to see them get to the cusp, only to fall short and fall into a rebuilding era. Rather, my first hockey memories are that of the Stanley Cup matches between the Detroit Red Wings and the Pittsburgh Penguins, with none other than Doc Emrick on the call. My father was glued to watching those games, despite us not watching much hockey at home in those years.
While Doc quickly became the voice of hockey in my mind, my eyes were drawn strongly to Nicklas Lidstrom, who also became my idea of a “perfect” hockey player. Thus, I was rooting for his team to win the Cup. That worked out in 2008, but Game 7 in 2009 is a blur in my memory. That game was played the same night as a fateful Subway Series game between the New York Yankees and New York Mets, in which Luis Castillo dropped a pop-up in the bottom of the ninth inning. Shortly after Nicklas Lidstrom got one last chance to send Game 7 to overtime in the dying moments of the third period, my father, my brother, and I were overcome with joy at a one-in-a-million walk-off victory for the Yankees.
My next hockey memory came with the 2010 Olympics — watched in that very same living room — when Zach Parise tied the game with seconds on the clock in the third period. Again, elation. But this time, disappointment soon followed. I remember Doc’s call on Crosby’s game-winner like it was yesterday. Despite the disappointment, I recognized Zach Parise as one of our own, and my New Jersey Devils fandom grew, bit by bit, from there. Unfortunately, that Olympic game became my last shared hockey memory with my father, who died of lung cancer two years later.
A month later, I was taken to my first experience of live Devils action: dueling-shutout performances from Martin Brodeur and Jean-Sebastien Giguere, in a shootout victory for the Devils, with Ilya Kovalchuk and Zach Parise earning the two shootout goals. I had hoped, clearly, that the Devils would take home the Stanley Cup a few months later. But I was not distraught, and that loss proved to be only the third-toughest sports experience for me that year. My only mistake was thinking a team that looked that good would be back again.
As I watched more and more Devils hockey, the voices of hockey largely became those of Steve Cangialosi and Chico Resch. I loved listening to Chico before he retired from the television broadcast. In my mind, hearing Cangialosi call those games, giving way at times to the stories of Chico during the game was peak hockey broadcasting, especially with Ken Daneyko, Deb Placey, and Stan Fischler sharing more stories and lore in the intermissions. I only wish I got to see more games with Doc in the booth with Chico. As for national broadcasts, well, I think most fans are in agreement that the post-Emrick world has been horrific at worst and survivable at best. There have been too many times that I have sat there, watching what would otherwise be an electric playoff moment, thinking Doc would make this a lot better.
Since it has now been nearly four years since Doc announced his retirement, his book, Off Mike: How a Kid from Basketball Crazy Indiana Became America’s NHL Voice, was a real breath of fresh air. So much of what made Doc a great broadcaster was his ability to convey the emotion of the game through his voice. He naturally ebbed and flowed along with the game; and when teams got a rise out of the crowd, so too did the game and the crowd get a rise out of Doc. Even as he did this, he walked the fine line between commentating too little and overstimulating the listener. He brought an attentive eye and raw emotion to the table while still letting the game speak for itself in the right moments. It should be no surprise, then, that Doc’s book was full of humanity and engaging stories, from his first forays as a young fan into fight-laden minor league hockey matches to becoming a mainstay of the hockey broadcasting world.
Of course, I still get to hear Chico call the Devils games every now and then — just not in the same manner as before. Some few or several times a year, I’m driving during the Devils’ games, leading to me listening to Matt Loughlin and Chico on the call. Between the couple hundred times or so I’ve heard Chico on television or the radio, I knew a few of his stories. Reading Chico Resch’s Tales From the Devils Ice, a collaboration between Chico and former Devils beat writer Mike Kerwick, I realized just how much I hadn’t heard, yet. What I really loved about reading this book, though, was how many players and coaches Chico and Kerwick sought out for their takes.
Life has a way of bringing things back around to you in ways you might not expect. At least, that’s what I thought when I read Tom McVie’s point of view on the 1983-84 season, when he was hired after the team had a horrific start. It was the team’s improved performance under McVie that led to the Pittsburgh Penguins sinking below the Devils in the standings, leading to them drafting Mario Lemieux. I did feel bad for McVie reading this part, especially when I shortly after got to the point where John McMullen refused to give him the security of a two-year contract to continue coaching the team, leading to the former’s return to the AHL. That said, it would not be the only time that Devils fans thought a team’s refusal to tank would prevent them from making a top selection. Thanks to the draft lottery, it was Travis Zajac’s game-winning goal at the end of the 2018-19 season that put them above the Los Angeles Kings in the league standings and into position to select Jack Hughes first overall. Jack might not end up the second best forward of all-time, but he might end up the best player in the league at one point or another during his career.
I also gained an appreciation for Doc’s journey through the hockey world in his book. He might not have been a player, suffering through the physical trials in a career of hockey, but a lifetime as a broadcaster meant making plenty of sacrifices in his own right. Like McVie, Doc also spurned a team owner offering him an NHL job, preferring to stay in Maine to call the Maine Mariners — though Doc was working there when the team was owned by the Philadelphia Flyers, just a few years before McVie would turn down a one-year contract from the Devils to return to Maine. In that decision, though, was the greatly appreciable sentiment that Doc wanted to be with his wife, Joyce, more often during the year — and his eventual career in the NHL meant that Joyce was often at home as he traveled from one game to the next.
Chico and Kerwick’s book did a great job of laying out the brick-by-brick nature of building the Devils’ dynasty. Between the years of top draft selections and the later tough decisions and shuffling that Lou Lamoriello was tasked with handling, every bit of it seemed important to the eventual three Stanley Cup victories. In between the rebuild period and winning, though, there was lots of strained patience, some tearful goodbyes, and a couple sour departures. Kirk Muller was the one who pointed out how those early draft picks created a great “nucleus” for the future winning seasons, though he was one of the guys who didn’t get to see the fruit of the harvest (though he said his trade to Montreal worked out for everybody — I got to profile a retrospective on that a few years ago). The Devils’ core of today is still young — Jared recently asked if they were too young to win a Stanley Cup. Perhaps they are, considering how long many of the Devils waited, of those who were around in the 80s and remained on the team for their first two playoff runs under Martin Brodeur. But, perhaps, this past year was just similar to how Lou Lamoriello described the 1995-96 season: a year where “the orchestra” featured too many musicians playing the wrong parts, after a summer of people “telling them how good they were,” as he put it. That same sentiment was shared by Larry Robinson, regarding what he viewed as his failure to shield the team from outside noise during the 2001 Stanley Cup Final.
It so happens that hockey players are human, too. Being swayed by distractions or falling into a rut is not a deep personal failing, but a reminder that people cannot be perfect all the time. Reaching the pinnacle or peak of anything requires both patience and a great deal of grace, for both yourself and others. When the New Jersey Devils return to the ice next month, remember that their pursuit of the Cup is not just a one-year effort. Building a contender is not a one-year issue. Martin Brodeur’s relationship with his long-time goaltending coach, Jacques Caron, is a good indication of this. Caron was with the organization from 1993 through 2017, and was the goaltending coach until 2010. He told Chico and Kerwick that the key to being a good goaltending coach is “a good goaltender” — and this sat in my mind as Sheldon Keefe defended his decision to retain Dave Rogalski to Ryan Novozinsky. In Off Mike, Doc also shared the sentiment that sometimes, making the best decisions means tuning out the noise from outside, whether those be personal or professional choices.
One such area where I was amused by crossover appeal between Chico’s and Doc’s respective books was their occasional focus on dogs and animals. In usual Chico fashion, the stories he and Kerwick shared were rather comedic. I particularly loved the story that Hector Marini contributed to the book, with his dog Boss, alongside the story of John McMullen’s dog, Bubba. This only set me up to be joyed and devastated by the stories Doc had to share, recalling his Yorkshire Terrier, Katie, that he and Joyce had in the late 1990s and early 2000s. As noted before, Doc did an excellent job of conveying the emotional ups and downs of a hockey game, but he also beautifully conveys the (to borrow a phrase) regular-ness of life, which all of us experience.
With that, I recommend to any readers here that they pick up a copy of both Chico’s and Doc’s books if they can. I do not want to give too much away about either, but I can attest that they are worthwhile reads — especially for those who liked hearing their calls over the years and for those who find themselves missing either on television now. Chico’s book gave me a greater appreciation for the experiences of the players, coaches, and management, as well as for some of the history of the team that doesn’t necessarily get shared regularly these days. With stories from the 80s to 2000s, I learned about many Devils who I otherwise would not have known much at all about. Doc’s book was not often focused on his time with the Devils, but the journey was well-worth reading. Since both of them were a big part of making me the hockey fan I am today, I was very happy to have read their work.
Your Thoughts
Have you ever read either of the books I talked about here? Are there any historical anecdotes about the Devils that you particularly enjoy, or anything that you think relates to the issues of the team today? Leave your thoughts in the comments below, and thanks for reading.