He held most of the Devils scoring records until a guy name Elias came along, and if Zach Parise stays with this team for the foreseeable future, it’s hard to imagine any MacLean/Elias numbers standing for very long.

I remember watching him blow out his knee right before the ’91-92 season in a pre-season game against the Islanders. He could have sniffed 50 goals in that lost season, and I think his subsequent NHL total would have eclipsed 500. He never matched his pre-injury numbers, but seemed to get back to a similar level when then-coach Jacques Lemaire put him in a defensive role that left Mac wanting.

Scott Stevens and John MacLean with the Stanley Cup in 1995.

I remember watching a game on TV and MacLean actually stated, matter-of-factly, that he wanted out of town. About a week later, he was playing for the San Jose Sharks. Some Devils fans begrudge him for signing with the Rangers, but what do you expect from the guy? He spent the entirety of his adult life in this area, and if I were in his shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. Why uproot your family over a rivalry? It was nice to see him come back into the fold, so to speak, as an assistant.

#15 MACLEAN was the first name and number on the back of my old Christmas tree jersey. It was the also the name and number on my first red and black sweater. And now the guy who came off the bench and brought the Devils their first taste of real success is the captain of the ship, steering this hockey club from behind the bench.

As a fan, unless Scotty Bowman or Mike Babcock is named coach, guys who have found success like its under the couch with loose change and lint, there is no sure thing. So who knows how Johnny Mac will do? Although, its better to see a fresh face behind the bench than say, I don’t know, Michel Therrien. MacLean has paid his dues, and now is his chance to shine.

Maybe his nose for the net during his playing days will rub off on his new charges.

Maybe in another 25 years, I can have a conversation with someone and talk, not about that 1988 April night when Johnny on the Spot was born, but the night Coach Mac brought the Devils back to the Stanley Cup.

The World Cup commenced this past weekend, and I think you’d be hard-pressed to find another city in New Jersey more soccer-mad than Newark. It goes without saying that the substantial Portuguese and Brazilian populations contribute to this, and its evident elsewhere, too, what with the Red Bulls being a stone’s throw away and St. Benedict’s Prep an annual national powerhouse in high school futbol.

Photo courtesy of newyorkredbulls.com

That said, its no surprise to have seen the local bars over-flowing with fans sporting their colors, draped in flags and clad in jerseys. (I was taken aback to see an exceptional number of Team USA jerseys on Saturday. I guess everyone loves an underdog.) Some of the nationalism (and drunkenness) may have cross-pollinated with the hullabaloo surrounding Portugal Day, but nevertheless, the 2010 World Cup brought a lot of folk out to the pubs, gluing them to the DirecTV HD flat screen televisions for hours.

Merchants dot the streets with soccer memorabilia and apparel representing a number of countries.

Additionally, the Red Bulls reported a strong turnout of 700-800 for their viewing party at the stadium during Saturday’s England/USA tilt.

This was the scene around a number of bars, pubs, restaurants and anywhere else that has TVs and serves beer.

So, assuming you find 0-0 and 1-1 deadlocks exciting sport, where do you plan on watching the duration of the month-long tournament? Or can you simply not wait for all the hooligans to go back form whence they came so you can reclaim your favorite bar stool?

And the band plays on...

Navigating through the throng of people, I was excited to see plastic tubs of sangria for sale, and even at $10 a pop, I didn’t mind. I did mind that the “sangria” lacked any sort of discernible flavor or potency. It was clearly watered down and an outright sham in my opinion. It turned me off from ordering any food and sitting at one of the countless wooden picnic tables set up on the complex.

A huge cup...and waste of money. Watered down sangria. It's a sin.

The mass production of rotisserie chicken smelled divine, but the prices for everything were pretty hellish. Twelve dollars for a shish kebab, or shrimp? Eight for a piece of chorizo? Nothing looked THAT good. With all the Newark police officers patrolling practically every Ferry Street intersection up to Wilson Avenue, I’m surprised no one was arrested for highway robbery.

Smels good, looks good, and probably tastes good...

...but not worth the asking price.

Now I can empathize with the readers who bemoaned Portugal Day last summer. You’re really better offer visiting any local restaurant and get a proper culinary Portuguese experience.

Brooklyn Summer Ale (4.5%): With the exception of Guinness and Yuengling, I'd consider myself a light beer drinker, so I liked this refreshing bottle.

Brooklyn Lager (5.2%): Available year-round. In 1996, it was voted "Best Craft Lager in America." I don't sense much more bite than a Yuengling packs, so I guess I can add this to my list of enjoyable ambers.

Abita Amber (4.5%): Similar to the Brooklyn Lager, this Louisiana original is also available year-round. Okay, so maybe I do like amber ales...

Harpoon IPA (5.9%): I used to drink this New England brew all the time when I lived in Rhode Island. It's one of my favorites to come out of a bottle.

Anchor Steam Summer Ale (4.9%): The San Fransisco native was my favorite of this handful of beers, and the website claims this "is the first American wheat beer in modern times."

I usually expect to have at least a couple dogs when I’m sampling a handful of beers, but I have to admit that all five of these beers were pretty good. If I had to choose, I’d rank them as such (Click on the links for a more comprehensive description of these beers.):

Anchor Steam Summer Ale

Harpoon India Pale Ale

Brooklyn Summer Ale

Brooklyn Lager

Abita Amber

Regular reader newarkdevil1 found the newly released video on YouTube, a song titled “Not Afraid.” Kinda ironic on some level for that to be the name of a song filmed in Newark.

Anyway, Broad Street and Market Street are both quite prominent throughout the video. If you pay close attention, you’ll spot some Devils street banners, NJ Transit buses and the iconic Paramount Theatre.  It’s unmistakably New Jersey. Unmistakably Newark.

Broad Street

Take a look for yourself:

Eminem ”Not Afraid”

I’ve never been a big fan of hip hop in general, or Eminem, but the hook is kinda catchy.  The gaping hole where Market meets Beaver Street is funny. I know more than a couple people who wish that’s not just CGI. Speaking of which, I thogut that Superman leap to the top of the building at the end looked pretty cheesy. A jarring departure from some of the more realistic special effects (like that crater in the heart of Market Street).

What are your thoughts on the video?

I’ve heard a lot of people say Fernandes Steakhouse is the best rodizio in Newark, and I’d be hard-pressed to disagree. Unlike Seabra’s, which I found to be heavy on the salt and light on the most important natural flavors in the food, Fernandes prepared every piece of meat to perfection. The various cuts of beef particularly impressed me. I typically steer clear of steaks when I dine out, because I often find myself disappointed. Too fatty. Too chewy. Too tough. Too well-done. None of those issues surfaced on Sunday, just shortly after noon. I’m not sure if it helped that my friend and I were the first to order the rodizio on the day. (We were either getting the freshest meat, or, I joked, whatever was left over from last night. If the latter was the case, I will gladly eat leftovers forever.)

A wonderful mango margarita.

The salad bar is meager in comparison to Seabra’s expansive selection, but who goes to these kinds of places for lettuce? I’m sad to say I didn’t even bother with our sides – white rice, plantains, black beans – as I was hoping that the next impaled slice of meat would be something out of the ordinary, like gator, ostrich or pheasant. Unfortunately, there was nothing of the sort, but I did enjoy my first experience with chicken hearts.

Chicken hearts.

Shaped like pinto beans on creatine, the hearts were tougher than I anticipated, with a slightly bitter flavor, like they were doused in vinegar. I’d definitely have them again if the opportunity were to arise, but no need to go out of my way for them.

Once you tap out, you're offered a warm slice of pineapple sprinkled in cinnamon. Whoever thought of such a creation, thank you.

I was so full that a walk to Penn Station (20 minutes) seemed to be the best way to get accustomed to my newly-expanded waistline. The tab, which included a pair of the most refreshing mango margaritas you could hope for, came out to a whopping $55, but if you take into account I didn’t need to eat for the rest of the day, it wasn’t so bad. The rodizio itself cost $28.75, but if you’re at Fernandes, its pretty much on par with the rest of the menu’s pricing.

My main gripe is that the service is so speedy you have little time to digest and the next thing you know, your plate is buried in meat. It becomes a daunting task.

If only they served penguin.

I’m not sure if they expected to make bank off their proximity to the arena or not, but at five blocks away or so with only a few random parking lots nearby, I don’t think the return was there, at least initially. I went after a Friday night Devils game earlier this year, and I would like to say it was a morgue in there, except for the fact that a DJ was blasting music so loudly that the noise ruptured the space-time continuum and the settlers of the 1600s briefly heard Kanye West. It was absolutely unbearable. How a bar with a jukebox, pool table, cheap beer and free popcorn goes out and does that is beyond me. It’s like they hoped to cater to a certain crowd (sports fans), and when they didn’t show, they half-assed it for a different crowd (deaf rap enthusiasts).

The bar has been closed for about six weeks, since a Florida man was killed outside the premises. I’ve called the site on numerous occasions. Sometimes I get that automated message telling me the number is not in service. Other times, it goes through and rings. And rings. And rings.

I finally walked by to see if there was any developments. All the exterior signage has been removed, but upon closer inspection, it looks like the bar was in use just last night. Everything is in place, right down to the bottles of half-drunk whatever behind the bar.

Yup. The Devils were still playing the last time Stadium Bar & Grill was open. Sigh...

I’m not really sure what to think. Is Stadium Bar and Grill another failed experiement in a city filled with a disproportionate number of idiots unwilling to act like human beings or will it find a way to rebound?  If the booze is still there, I’m putting my money on the latter, but if anyone can offer any other insights, please share’em.

With the Stanley Cup and NBA Finals in full swing – I can’t believe I’m rooting for the Flyers, but I’ve got a lot of friends in the Philly area and I hate Patrick Kane’s mullet (I could not care less about basketball though.) – what better time to hold the Golden City Rubber Match?  This is it. Game 7. (or 3, but who’s counting?) My final verdict, once and for all.

For starters, the place will always look like and abandoned shithole from the outside. If you haven’t been yet, let me give them due credit for the interior upkeep. But come on, people, how can you expect to thrive in what looks like a warzone? It takes a brave soul to venture into what could be mistaken for a crack den.

Fix me...

Maybe its the price tag ($6.50 all you can eat buffet includes unlimited soft drinks). Maybe its the relative dearth of Chinese food in the area.  Maybe there’s some sort of charm about a building that looks like the final turn in a game of Jenga. Maybe the food is just that durn good. Whatever the case, three friends and I visited before MDW (Memorial Day Weekend), the missile that blasts off my summer, and there was nowhere to sit. Golden City was packed.

Within a couple minutes, we collected a patchwork of chairs and small tables to form our Chinese cuisine cabal. I even got the coconut chicken… again. I still don’t know why I do it. Never again. Everything else was up to par, though.  I’ve got to say the sausage and peppers are quickly becoming a favorite of mine.

Another clean plate... Oh, and there's plenty of vegetables, so its not all deep fried and MSG.

Simply put, I’m pro-Golden City. Now that’s out of the way, I’m moving on to focus on the depths of Ferry Street.  I’m talking way down there, where they might not even speak English. If anyone has recommendations for that area, let me know. (I know, I know, Village Pizza has been mentioned, and I couldn’t find the damn place. I was right there at Sol Mar, too. I’ve got a tour guide for that one lined up sometime soon.)

I’ve also had the monster slice at Mike’s (not as delicious, but a great value considering how much you’re getting for $1.75) and made the trek up Bloomfield Ave to Dickie Dee’s for a slice so greasy, I sipped it through a straw (true story! witnesses…).  Readers tipped me off to Robert’s, near the Rutgers campus, and I’ve even sampled some mini-pies from the lounges at Prudential Center.

When I visited Port 44 last week, I bought a large pie from neighboring Queen – half plain, half mushroom – for $15.50.  Although I ordered in the heart of the lunch rush, my wait was no more than ten minutes, and the pizza was everything I expected: great.

So I pose yet another question to the faithful followers and foodies: Where in Newark is there a slice of pizza that can top Queen? Anyone? Anyone?

In three-plus years of living up here, I’ve discovered its par for the course for Jersey folk to complain about what a hassle it is to get to and from New York City. After my provincial pal did the same, I decided to time a trip to the Big Apple on PATH ($1.75) to see how long it would take. I feel like I should probably share this information, since it must be a secret carefully guarded by the Priory of Sion.

2:12 PM – Reach station platform

2:15 PM – PATH departs

2:16 PM – Arrive in Harrison

2:26 PM – Arrive in Journal Square

2:28 PM – Leave Journal Square

2:33 PM – Arrive at Grove Street

2:35 PM – Arrive  at Pavonia Newport

The 9th Street Station (duh).

2:42 PM to 2:46 PM – In one minute intervals, I hit Christopher Street, 9th Street (Greenwich Village), 14th Street (Union Square), 23rd Street and 33rd Street (Penn Station/MSG)

31 minutes in all! Take NJ Transit ($4) and you cut that time in half. In 31 minutes or less, you can get to Greenwich Village, Union Square (visit Crocodile Lounge, free pizza with every beer, and they have their own brick oven), Madison Square Garden, and enough bars and restaurants to feed an overpopulated city in southeast Asia. It also opens the doors to museums like the Met, MOMA and the King Tut and Bodies exhibits. Yankees and Mets games. A ten minute walk to Times Square, if you’re into developing seizures and/or agoraphobia. And there are obviously so many more open doors once you’re in Manhattan.

Anything you can imagine is pretty much down the aisle, past the turnstile and up the stairs. And only a half-hour from home in Newark!

And even without crossing state lines, you’ve got Jersey City, the beer garden and everything else that city has to offer, or Red Bull Stadium in Harrison. So next time you’ve got nothing to do, realize that the world is pretty much at your fingertips, and that’s quite lucky if you’re anywhere in or around Newark.