The first recollection that I have of my sports fandom is the 2002 Stanley Cup Playoffs. I remember Robitaille, Yzerman, Hull, Shanahan, Federov, and the countless other future Hall of Famers. I remember the 7–0 thrashing of the Colorado Avalanche in game seven of the Western Conference Finals that I watched from a campsite in Tawas, Michigan. I remember a swift dismantling of the Carolina Hurricanes. I remember falling in love with the team that wore the winged wheel. I remember seeing the Stanley Cup for the first time, and the guys raising it above their head were from my team.

But in 2002, lost in the glory of confetti falling to the ice of Joe Louis Arena, the championship parade, and another banner slowly ascending into the rafters, was the emergence of one of the best two-way players in hockey history.

At five years old, your rookie season was something I don't remember from 2002. But as I sit on my couch less than 24 hours removed from watching you skate through the center of the neutral zone—head up, puck on your stick, your unpredictability flattening the feet of defenders—for possibly the last time, I want to say thank you.

I want to say thank you for the two Stanley Cups. I want to say thank you for the hustle that left defensemen speechless as they turned around and watched you light the lamp with a puck that was just on their stick.

I want to say thank you for the times Ken Daniels lost his voice because you just scored a goal that you no other player in the world has the ability to bury, while Mickey Redmond could do nothing but repeatedly say, "Wow."

I want to say thank you for the breakaways and shootout goals that made me say, "Here he goes!" the second you crossed center ice. I want to thank you for the times that you single-handedly won a game that probably should have ended in the loss column, like when you beat Tuuka Rask in game one.

I want to say thank you for the nights I'd spend at a friend's house, and we'd stay up until four in the morning watching your highlights on YouTube. I want to thank you for the breakaway moves that I worked so hard at to replicate, but couldn't even come close to. I want to thank you for the times I'd have to rewind the television just to comprehend what you did, like when you beat Antti Niemi after he thought he had you figured out.

I want to thank you for spending all 14 years of your NHL career on my team—in HockeyTown. I want to thank you for remaining a role model and playing the game the right way. I want to thank you for the time you spent away from your family in Russia, even in the later years when long-term injuries put your career in jeopardy.

I want to thank you for the class you showed toward the city of Detroit in every situation. I want to thank you for being the most spectacular player I've ever watched. I want to thank you because I've never had to watch a Red Wing's team without you.

If last night was the last time that I'll ever see you put on a sweater with the winged wheel on the front, if last night was the last time I'll ever say, "Here he goes!" as you shift the puck from your backhand to your forehand and charging through the neutral zone, if last night was the last time I refuse to give up hope because you're on the ice, then good luck, Pavel.

From everyone across Michigan, the country, and the hockey community, thank you for being the Magic Man.