It’s been over two months since the New York Rangers bowed out in the first round of the 2023 playoffs to the rival New Jersey Devils. A long series of momentum swings and spirited hockey culminated in a 31 save shutout by Akira Schmid in Game 7. The Rangers blew a 2-0 series lead, the Devils got the last laugh in the latest edition of the Battle of the Hudson, and everything sucks.

Enough time has passed, I’ve gathered my thoughts and am ready to speak objectively on the matter. As a Rangers fan, you might’ve blamed Gerard Gallant for the lack of in-game adjustments or overall strategy. Perhaps it’s Patrick Kane and his injured hip you were upset with. Maybe you pointed the finger at Kaapo Kakko and Alexis Lafrenière, in a series where Jack Hughes was dynamite with the puck on his stick. Certainly not out of the realm of possibilities you wanted more production, more snarl out of the top guns getting paid the most money. You could’ve grasped at straws and claimed Ondrej Palat’s fluke goal in the opening minute of Game 5 changed the entire complexion of the series. Believe me when I say all the above assessments are incorrect. Unfortunately, I’m here to tell you I am responsible for the Devils’ success this past season and, ultimately, the Rangers’ demise. Here is the truth.

It all started with the Edmonton Oilers visiting the Devils on December 31^st, 2021. I was in the stands at the Prudential Center for the first time ever, because what better way to ring in the New Year than watch Connor McDavid play hockey. Highly recommend watching McJesus in person if you haven’t, it is a cathartic experience.

I had gotten seats in the lower bowl where the Oilers were shooting twice and in true petty fashion, linked up with some friendly folks from Edmonton to cheer on the Oil. No positive comments to share on the Prudential Center or the surrounding area but the game itself was electric. 5 goals in the first period, McDavid lit the lamp twice and it was a great vibe with the rowdy Canadian bunch. The Devils ended up winning 6-5, with Jack Hughes scoring in OT after assisting on the tying goal with less than a minute to go in the 3^rd period. Because who else.

I left that dingy arena thinking I can go back to my normal life and ignore the Devils’ existence as I often do. At the time, they were still irrelevant and that is the most ideal in my book.

I guess my email was leaked through whichever app I got the tickets from, because I was contacted by a staffer from the Devils. No need to use his real name so let’s call him Marty. Marty had two tickets to an upcoming game, he wanted to bring me and discuss how he can help with all my future ticket plans at The Rock. Hard pass! The hardest pass in the history of ticket sales and arguably mankind. I didn’t reply.

Credit to Marty, he was very persistent. Simply doing his job. I was a lead, and he wasn’t going to give up on the lead. That’s how cold outreach works – it’s a numbers game and it’s a follow up game. Over the course of the next four months, Marty peppered my inbox with shots from the point on how I need the Devils in my life. A truly impossible sell. Not a fiber in my body was, or ever will be interested. Marty never got his coveted reply. I figured my email would eventually be taken off whatever list I was on.

It was at 1:03AM EST on a Saturday in April that I received a nasty cross-check in the back. I was along the boards in a vulnerable position and the puck had already been flipped out of the zone before the blow was delivered from behind.

Out at a bar with friends, I quickly slid my phone halfway out of my pocket to see an email notification, subject line: “URGENT: RESPONSE REQUESTED.” Oh no. As you can imagine, my mind immediately went to absurd places with a few drinks in my system. I’m being framed for a heinous crime and they’re looking for a statement. There’s a federal agent waiting at my apartment to take me to prison, and they’re ready to read me my Miranda Rights. My parents are being held hostage and I must pay ransom. For a couple minutes there, it was pure terror.

I had to chuckle when I took refuge in a bathroom stall to discover it was yet another follow-up from my pen pal, Marty. The best part? One of the sentences in the email read:

“You’ll always have a friend at the Devils no matter what.”

Marty was toying with me. This was getting ridiculous, and I knew I needed to finally nip this in the bud to get my email address off whatever godforsaken list I was on. I understand the guy is fulfilling his job description by chasing leads but sending an email at 1am on a weekend with an ominous subject line is tapping my shin pads with his stick and looking for a scrap. The urge was strong to hit Marty back with barrage of expletives at that moment, but cooler heads prevailed.

I slept on it and responded to Marty the following day around noon:

“You’re really sending me this email with an urgent subject line at 1am on a Saturday? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since you’re associated with such a poverty franchise.

Not interested, please stop contacting me, and let’s go Rangers.”

I kept it PG. Could’ve done better there, could’ve done worse. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve ripped into him harder but whatever. It was short, to the point and accomplished the goal of crossing my email address off the list.

Wrong!

Marty smelled blood in the water. He kept going. Completely unphased. I thought I caught him with his head down in the neutral zone but he’s on the ice the very next shift throwing his body around. A small part of me was impressed with the commitment to the bit. More emails kept flowing in as if nothing had happened.

I attended that Oilers/Devils game in December, it’s now July and Marty has his feet up, sipping on a margarita in my inbox. Does this guy even sleep?

He touched a nerve with yet another Saturday follow-up, albeit at a more reasonable hour. He was confused why he hasn’t heard back, wanted to know when we can chat, yada yada yada. Part of the email read:

“We have an event at the Prudential Center on Tuesday 7/19 from 6-9pm, it’s the perfect opportunity for us to meet in person and look at seating locations.”

Huh? An event? What does that even mean, guy? Will there be food and drink? Is there a dress code? Any guest speakers? Some sort of panel? In my head I envisioned more of Black Mirror episode where I show up to a quiet arena, nobody else around. It’s just me and Marty walking around the dimly lit concourse, the doors lock behind me and he isn’t taking no payment for an answer.

I responded within 15 minutes:

“I could probably come up with 100+ better things to do on 7/19 from 6-9pm than attend an event at the Prudential Center. And to answer your question, I will never be available to chat.

I am not interested and already told you this on April the 2nd, after you sent me an email at 1am on a Saturday with a disturbing subject line.

I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all but this is getting very silly Marty. I am a Rangers fan and went to the Prudential Center once (one time) to see Connor McDavid play. You are fighting a losing battle Marty.

By the way, I greatly appreciate your organization passing on Shane Wright to keep him out of the division. Boneheaded move if you were to ask my opinion on the draft strategy.”

I had finally done the unthinkable and evicted Marty from my inbox. I never heard from him again.

And what happened next? The Devils began to win hockey games. A lot of them. In fact, they posted their highest win total in franchise history at 52 and the highest point total in franchise history at 112. What’s more, they posted the largest year-to-year point improvement in NHL history at 49. To top it off, Jack Hughes surpassed the franchise record for most points in a season with 112. For a club that moved to New Jersey in 1982 and saw great success in the late 90’s and early 00’s – 2023 was the pinnacle of regular season dominance. All this coming directly after my little spat with Marty where I dubbed the Devils a poverty franchise.  A jinx for the ages.

Separately, Simon Nemec is probably a future Norris trophy winner after my Shane Wright comment but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

I knew it was trouble when the Rangers drew the Devils in the first round of the playoffs, instead of the Carolina Hurricanes. It didn’t matter the Rangers had acquired Patrick Kane and Vladimir Tarasenko at the deadline. It didn’t matter they made it to the Eastern Conference Finals in 2022 and gained some experience. It didn’t matter Igor Shesterkin was in net. The damage had already been done.

Those that watched the series closely might’ve noticed the stone cold, blank stare celebrations that Dougie Hamilton, Jack Hughes and others were doing after goals. Interestingly, I haven’t come across a beat reporter that was able to pinpoint the motive. Allow me to enlighten you. They were scanning the MSG faithful for that one mush that called the Devils a poverty franchise. It was personal for them. I have no choice but to assume head coach Lindy Ruff had both my emails printed out in large text and pinned to a bulletin board in the locker room. My email address itself was a rallying cry as the team did conditioning drills at training camp and at practices throughout the season. It’s rumored that captain Nico Hischier would scream the word “poverty” when the Devils needed a jolt of energy on the bench.

And Marty? Marty was treated like hockey royalty. Marty was their glue guy, a rare case of someone on the outside who was accepted into the sacred inner circle of pro athletes. He played cards with the guys at the back of the plane and laughed it up at the center of the table at team dinners. He was their good luck charm, a reminder of the naysayers and a symbol of mediocrity in years past.

To Devils fans, I still don’t like you guys but I’m working on respecting you. I ask that you please respect my privacy as I embark on this difficult journey.

To my fellow Rangers fans, I apologize. I won’t sit here at the podium and dance around questions with generic platitudes and false innuendos. I take full accountability for the failure that was last season. It’s my fault.  

Here’s to a fun 2023-2024 season, new beginnings, and an inbox free of Marty.