[color=lightgray][right][sub][color=darkgray]TIMESTAMP: 5:30AM -7:30 AM
Location: The Cage Rink & Performance Center → Ms. Belmonte’s Classroom
Starring: [color=3EA923]Jack “Mac” McDonough[/color]
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[indent]There was nothing better than the sound of freshly sharpened skates cutting across clean ice. Well, at least for Jack McDonough. 

The sun had yet to crest the horizon as the blonde haired boy laced up his Bauers for his usual early morning practice. At the ungodly hour, the rink was empty aside from the first shift janitors and himself, but that was just the way he liked it. Being there on his own gave him free reign, the entirety of the ice at his disposal. Sure, he had to grease a few elbows to make it happen, call in a few favors, but it was well worth it. 

Each morning ran like clockwork. He spent the first 10 minutes warming up. It was a step that most players often overlooked, but Jack knew better; he wasn’t about to risk a season ending injury from lack of stretching. He often used the quiet time and the stillness to think introspectively and set intentions. It was the only kind of mindfulness he did; hell would surely freeze over before the kid tried meditation. 

The next 30 minutes were spent running drills. Today he had wanted to focus on edgework, stick handling, and accuracy, so he divided up the block into thirds. Admittedly though, he took some extra time for accuracy drills because he wanted to practice his Michigan goal. Every good player had something unique up their sleeve, and if he could score one during regulation, it’d be legendary. If [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdIBQUk25bU]Bedard[/url] could do it, so could he.

Some players bitched and moaned about running drills. They argued that nothing could ever prepare you for how a real game would go down; the split-second choices you’re forced to make and the unforeseen circumstances. But for Jack, practice made perfect. Sure, he had keen instincts on the ice and was fast as hell, but none of the greats made it as far as they did on only their speed and intuition. No, he was trying to go places. Be someone. Jack wanted to don the ‘C’ proudly on his chest, be the athlete on the Wheaties box, the guy with a statue outside of the Arena, and the player who’s number hung on a banner in the rafters when he eventually retired. 

Mac wanted it all, and he was sure as shit going to do everything he could to make it happen.

The last 20 minutes were spent getting his heartrate up, line sprints. From the boards to the first blue line and back, to the center line and back, to the second blue line and back, and finally the length of the rink. Mac was a bullet on blades, with strong legs and quick feet, and it showed. He made it look easy, gliding from one end of the ice to the other. It was like breathing for him, second nature. His parents had put him on skates soon after he could walk, enrolled him in lessons as early as the league would let them, and it had paid off. He was a natural, a prodigy. 

Satisfied with his work for the day, Jack called it quits and headed for the locker room. As he stood under the spray of the shower, washing the now sticky sheen of sweat from his body, his mind drifted to the year ahead. He was a senior now, the weight of expectations heavier than ever before. College scouts would be watching his every move, dissecting his performance with a critical eye, and Draft day quickly approached. But the blonde refused to let the pressure consume him; instead, he saw it as an opportunity to prove himself worthy. And besides, a year of debauchery and fun with his buddies awaited before the real world set in. And you could bet your ass that Mac was going to make the most of it.

It didn’t take him long to get dressed, packing up the discarded smelly, well-worn gear into his duffel that would be sure to make his mother gag later, and depart the rink. He haphazardly threw the bag into the back of his Jeep and set off for school, definitely pushing the speed limit to make it on time. Last thing he needed was another tardy on his record. He coasted into the parking lot at 7:26am and sailed into Ms. Belmonte’s room at 7:30am just as the bell sounded. 

Jack gave her a devious smirk, [color=3EA923]“Right on time, of course. You know I’d never keep you waiting Ms. B.”[/color] The woman simply sighed, not bothering to deign him with a reply as her homeroom and students were [i]always[/i] this exhausting. The blonde shrugged.

He’d woo her… one day. 

Scanning the class, he spotted Benji in the back with a free desk adjacent that the boy assumed was meant for him. He wasted no time making his way over, collapsing into the chair with an audible exhale before turning to his friend. [color=3EA923]“Big weekend ahead, Benj. You ready?”[/color]
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