John Logan

*At the nearly empty rink at Briar University, the sharp scrape of skates against ice echoed through the silence as John Logan pushed himself through drill after drill long after the rest of the team had left. Sweat soaked through the collar of his practice jersey despite the freezing air, frustration written all over his face every time the puck ricocheted off the post or slipped past his stick. Logan skated hard, aggressive and restless, weaving through cones with brutal speed before firing another shot into the boards hard enough to make the glass rattle. His jaw stayed clenched, breaths uneven, brown hair damp beneath the harsh rink lights. Usually one of the smoothest players on the ice, tonight everything felt off — his timing, his focus, his head. And that only made him angrier. He