charming Uncle Jacques

The press horde had just sucked the bones dry in the dressing room and were trampling into the press room for the last course, a session with the "old perfessor," Jacques Lemaire, to borrow a nickname from the late great Casey Stengel. As men, women and students did their deadline shuffle, an elder man was off to the side near the entrance, working his cel phone like a number of working stiffs (term of endearment, if you are in the media and working, you are succeeding right now.) Only this working stiff was the man everyone had come to hear, hockey's story du jour. After the press was assembled he coyly finished his call and stepped to the podium. He was all smiles and had every right to be

Lemaire, the man who brought a team that was past the brink, 19 games under .500 at 10-29-2, back to the break-even mark at 32-32-4. In the last 27 hours his Devils had collected 4 points to close within 6 of the final playoff spot, he had made an extremely tough call in goal-Broduer on less than a day's rest, and won. He had moved one seemingly insignificant pawn on the chess board, replacing Zharkov with David Clarkson on the "Kid Line," and was rewarded with a line that is becoming a force, collecting 6 points collectively in a 3-2 OT thriller, complete with 3 lead changes.

Jacques was having fun on the podium, beat writers were begging him to talk about the playoffs, reminding him that he promised to talk about the playoffs if the Devils got within 5 points. "But we're 6 behind," he said with a smile. "Ask me at 5." His cell phone rang from the corner of the room where he began the press conference. "That's my wife...calling to tell me not to talk about it." Has a coach ever worked a room so comfortably? But now he could talk seriously about the abyss they had climbed out of to reach .500. Did he ever imagine them returning to .500 when they were 19 games under in January? "Never. Because the league is so strong, the hill was too high." Did he think his players believed they could do it? The suntanned fox shook his silver head, "It must have been miserable for them."

The magic or momentum or lightning in a bottle or whatever term needs to be invented for this bunch was clearly in play this night in Newark. Two players scored their first career NHL goals in a 3-2 overtime win that removed the "losing record" label for this proud franchise. Those bare facts are startling by themselves, but they just reflect business as usual for the Devils over the past two months. Jacob Josefson, just turned 20 and looks like it will be at least a decade before he stops having to show his ID to get a beer, banked a puck off Al Montoya from behind the goal line to open the scoring in the first period. His first career marker, and the baby-faced was typically humble, yet honest at his locker stall. "It doesn't matter who scores as long as we win," he said, his cheeks still carrying a cherubic glow. "But it's fun to be part of it."

New linemate David Clarkson was sporting a gash on his nose, which did nothing to dampen his spirits. He lost a chunk of flesh courtesy of Montoya's shaft while prone in a goal mouth scramble, but this grizzled veteran wouldn't dare miss a shift with his rookie linemates. "Speed is what I'm bringing to the line." It's an odd grouping, a journeyman grinder and two Swedish smurfs, but it's working. "I'm happy with the little line," said Jacques. And if they take care of their defensive responsibilities, "They will probably stay together." That's as close to commitment as a coach can make in this league.

The other first-time scorer was a skilled Finn Anssi Salmela, who despite a brimming tool box, is more of a journeyman than Clarkson, bouncing around Europe and the AHL for the last 7 years while accumulating 98 games in The Show. He nearly imploded after burying the slick feed from Mattias Teddenby past Montoya's glove hand, along with the Saturday night sellout crowd. Lemaire, however, was clearly not gushing over Salmela, "He needs to make the easy play...He's always trying to do too much." A project for his Hall-Of-Fame assistant Larry Robinson.

This outcome of this game came down to a single play five minutes into the third period, with Jersey trailing by a goal and on the power play. Michael Grabner sped in all alone on a breakaway, one of many shorthanded chances for the Islanders, this one clearly the best. Brodeur waited out Grabner and got a blocker on a shot labeled for the far side.

"That was a huge save," said Lemaire. "I think that gave a little bit of a boost to our team," said Brodeur. 16 seconds later, Clarkson ties the game on a filthy goal mouth scramble, and the Devils were alive. Had Grabner finished, the Devils story would be in Sunday's obituary section.

The post game news-gatherers were trying to drum up validation for a story on "pressure," but none of the newsmakers were biting. Lemaire and all his players seemed happy to be playing game to game, one period and one shift at a time. But minutes after the locker room opened to reporters, a grim faced Adam Oates was tapping certain players on the shoulder, reminding them that there was a power play practice for noon. Despite connecting on three season-saving man advantage markers on Friday, this night's power play gave up more offense than it created and needs to be fixed, pronto.

"All game long on our power play we weren't really successful offensively, and were pretty bad defensively," said Brodeur, who coughed up a shorthanded goal to Blake Comeu in the second period after Comeau torched Brian Rolston one-on-one. The Devils use of two forwards--Rolston and Kovalchuk--on the point for most of their power-plays is an accident waiting to happen. They allowed several chances and were burned badly once. Adjustments will be made at noon today.

In the meantime, there are several teams all sharing the Devils improbable playoff dream--Carolina, Buffalo, Toronto, and, thanks to Saturday's stunning come-from-behind season saver, the Atlanta Thrashers. They will be in Newark on Tuesday. A good time to separate pretender from contender.