It was hockey night in Toledo. Junior hockey night to be specific. You were there with your dad, who plays for the adult Toledo Walleyes, he was there watching with his team. It was halfway through the second when number 41 steps foot on the ice for the first time. The adults wince, fully aware of the boy's accident last season. He lasts maybe four minutes, two shifts, before he ends up in a fight. I watch as he crumples suddenly, landing on his knees as blood steams from his bleeding nose. Coaches and physical trainers rush over to him as the refs pull the opposing player away.