I know you are never going to see this, but I had to write it anyway—because of the impact you have had on my life.
Where to start? I’ve always loved the Rangers, but I never really had a favorite player—until around COVID. That is when I fell in love with your game. You play with heart, grit, and intensity. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and at a time when I was struggling, that meant everything. Watching your toughness inspired me to be tough. Lindy, you are a warrior.
You were never the flashiest player, but that never mattered. I loved the hits, the battles, even the time spent in the penalty box. You made the plays that don’t always show up on the scoresheet but win games—the kind that take guts, sacrifice, and an unshakable commitment to your team. And your chemistry with Adam Fox? Unreal. You complemented him so well, and together, you were unstoppable.
But it’s more than just being a fan. You made me want to work in sports—not for the stars, not for the highlight reels, but for players like you. The ones who throw their bodies on the line without hesitation, who play through pain, who block shots like it’s their purpose in life. The ones who may not always get the headlines but are the heart and soul of a team.
I chose 55 as my own jersey number, hoping to carry a little bit of your magic with me—not on the ice, but on the softball field. I wanted to play the way you do: with everything I had.
My softball jersey matched my No. 55 Rangers jersey. I had so many good times wearing your jersey. I wore it at MSG, on the road, and at home. My friends knew if I had it on, they weren’t allowed to talk to me. I was zeroed in on the Rangers. I loved being one of the few with your name on my back—it made me proud. And trust me, I’ll keep wearing it and cheering for you in Colorado.
Thank you for everything,
Meira