A Love Letter

Dear Jochen Hecht,

I know we haven’t talked in a while (I’ve been busy. Do you know how much bureaucracy is involved in arranging a semester abroad in your country? Sheesh, this better be worth it.), but I want you to know that I have been thinking about you. I know I haven’t exactly been the best Yo-Yo fan that I can possibly be lately, what with rehearsals making me miss more than half the season’s games, but I’ve been keeping up with your numbers and news, and I’m delighted at all the glowing reviews you’ve been getting. Everyone from the players (belated congratulations on the October captaincy!), to Sabres management (ditto on the new contract!), to bloggers whose opinions I trust (see Top Shelf and Sabre Rattling, to name a couple) are singing your praises. Even Lindy Ruff couldn’t hide his severe mancrush on your dependable two-way play and solid penalty killing! And who can blame him? I don’t want to ruin your perception of yourself or anything, but you’re kind of awesome. (No, don’t try to argue with me, Yo-Yo, it’s true. Live with it.)

So I guess the question is, how did you get to be so awesome? I couldn’t experience it first hand, but I heard through the grapevine that even with the rest of the Sabres skating in molasses, your line with Timmy and Pommer was a continuous bright spot. And you took over the center spot with ease after the injury bug bit—so well that you’re still playing between Jason and Clarke even with Connolly healthy again. And even while revisiting your maddening(ly adorable) game of Shoot at the Goaltender or else Not at the Net and your seemingly desperate need to invent the instrument called Goal Post Marimbas, you continued to be one of the better players out there every night. That’s not easy to do.

Knowing you, you’re probably reading this while staring at your feet, drawing toe circles in the dirt and mumbling something about your linemates pulling a lot of weight for you, and you’re not exactly wrong. From what I’ve seen, both Pommer and Timmy have been consistent and solid, and MacArthur has definitely earned his spot with the big club. But listen: This letter is about you. And you? Are fantastic. I watched my first game in a long time last night, and whenever your line was out, it was always you I was focused on. Granted, I have somewhat of a vested interest in watching you, but it seemed you were always doing something interesting or productive, controlling the play in some way. One smart clearing pass here, another deft set-up there, and probably a billion subtle positioning things I didn’t notice, because that’s just your way. You really are playing well, and I’m so proud to see it.

You know, someone once told me that as a fan, you don’t really pick a favorite player, so much as that player picks you. So I want to thank you, Yo-Yo, for choosing me to be a Hecht fan. So far it’s been nothing but rewarding. And I promise that in the future when you’re going through a slump or things just aren’t gelling so well—as happens to everyone at some time or another—I may curse and I may whine, but I’ll look back on this time and I won’t let my devotion waver. I’ll remember how you stood by me, determined to shine as Captain October, even though you knew I couldn’t watch much. I’ll remember how you sat down and got that contract extension done early just so I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the season worrying about whether you’d still be with me next year. I’ll remember how you didn’t let the added money and years keep you from playing hard every night, even when surrounded by so much Sabres anemia. You’ve treated me well.

Simply put, Yo-Yo, I’ve just realized that you are my favorite player and there’s nothing either of us can do about it. We’re just stuck with each other. And I think I’m going to enjoy it.

Vielen Glück und Erfolg!
Gambler

P.S. I know this letter may sound silly, but I assure you, I am not jochen!