Tom fiddler chooses the blue pill without even reading the other pill descriptions. Strength is all that matters in this league and Tom needs to be the strongest mother fucker on the ice. Furthermore, sight is a weakness, a crutch the feeble minded rely on in place of better senses like smell and touch. Tom can tell where his opponents are by nose and feel alone. The reverberations of each cut of ice from the blade, the skittering of the puck, the slide of the stick as it glides - all picked up by toms feet like a blind earth bender. And really, with such strength, who needs to bother with the puck? Players are easier to smell, hear, and feel. So with great strength comes obliterating hits, sending his foes into oblivion. All hope of a non concussed career is shredded in an instant when fiddler steps onto the ice. No player is safe. They will all feel his wrath