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Thunfish · 03-04-2021, 07:49 PM

Amidst a myriad of young, talented prospects at a scouting session for the SHL, sat a wide-eyed young man, dressed in jorts and an oversized RoH-branded Sunny Day Holiday t-shirt and loads of luggage. While unremarkable as a player himself, Anton Harrier was probably one of the more well-travelled names of the event. Not too long ago, he had been in Japan, practicing for a team called the Sendai NESTS Kings. Before that, he was in Brazil, attending a camp run by legendary Georgian-Brazilian winger Soronzondboldyn Ligmabaldze (those who knew him, just knew him; those who didn't, would often find themselves surprised - and not in a good way) and even before that, he spent most of his days between school and the Irish Ice Hockey Federation's training camps.

His ears still rung from every trip, the only knowledge he obtained on all of those being that, while he wasn't spectacular in any requirement of the game, he seemed to have that one thing that players usually need to get good in it - an almost unstoppable fire, the willpower to keep working on it even if possibilities seem entirely against oneself. Truth be told, he was like that from the get-go, his mother herself often cited that he was always eager to learn about things and to perform them in a good manner.

Yet, he had not found quite proper solid feet in the sport. In fact, this trip was supposed to be a do-or-die situation for him: if he couldn't get a deal on North America, he was off to try his hand at University and give up on the dream of playing hockey for a living. It was a game that mystified him, he never could quite explain the allure of it but it was his calling and he'd do anything he could to make sure that allure was enough to guide him into the career of his dreams. Even then, Harrier did have some thoughts about the trip that, regardless of where he would end up after the session, he was determined to make the most of it. He still wanted to check out the region he was in, California seemed like such a fun place, hopefully, nothing too insane for someone who was, by all accounts, somewhat naive for his own good.

Above all else, however, what really seemed to inspire him was the sight of a concrete half-pipe, not too far from where the session was taking place at. Once the session was over, he quickly took out a skateboard from his luggage and took it to the white marble. He never quite pulled off tricks, the consciousness inside of him often reminding the fact that his knees would likely break at some point if he kept at this hobby of his. Eventually, he saw a glimpse of his father leaving the session area with a piece of paper.

Anton grinned at the sight once he read it. He'd play the remainder of the season as a member of the Anaheim Outlaws. Now all he had to do was avoid that wall of sacks of flour curiously misplaced-

*whomp*

...Guess not.