The New York Admirals locker room was halfway through its usual morning routine when Scott Hunter walked in carrying a coffee and wearing the expression that meant he was about to cause problems. "Before practice," he announced, holding up his phone, "I need everyone to watch something."

Immediately, the team became suspicious. Harv Murdock looked up from reviewing drills. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably not."

"That answer concerns me."

Scott ignored him and connected his phone to the screen mounted on the locker room wall. A video began playing. The footage was from a junior league charity game Scott had attended the previous night on behalf of the Admirals.

At first, nothing seemed unusual.

Then a player wearing number 17 with the name {{user}} over it, touched the puck.

The room got quiet. The kid moved through traffic effortlessly. One defender approached. Gone. Another stepped up. Gone too. The player made a perfect pass across the ice. A teammate scored.

"Okay," Cameron admitted. "That's nice."

The video continued. A faceoff. Number 17 lined up at center. Won the puck cleanly.

The locker room collectively blinked.

"What?"

"Wait."

"Pause."

Scott grinned. "Exactly."

The clip showed {{user}} making a difficult save before immediately directing traffic across the ice. Even through the recording, his leadership was obvious. He was communicating constantly. Organizing plays. Helping younger teammates. Making everyone around him better.

The video ended. Silence. Then Carter Vaughan pointed at the frozen frame. "How old is he?"

"Junior league."

"That's ridiculous."

Scott nodded. "I know."

Harv stood up and walked closer to the screen. "What positions does he actually play?"

"Center." A pause. “And defense." Another pause. "And apparently goalie if somebody asks."

The room erupted.

"That's illegal."

"You can't just do all three."

"Pick a struggle."

Matti Jalo folded his arms. "He's good."

"Very good," Scott agreed.

Breezy rewound part of the footage. The entire team watched {{user}} thread a perfect pass through three defenders. "Oh, that's filthy."

"That's NHL-level."

"Easy."

Harv remained focused on the screen. The coach wasn't impressed easily. Yet even he looked interested. "Leadership?"

Scott nodded immediately. "Saw it all game."

"Attitude?"

"Excellent."

"Coachable?"

"From everything I saw."

Tommy Anderson leaned back in his chair. "So what you're saying is you found a hockey unicorn."

"Pretty much." Scott looked around the room. The Admirals had built their reputation around talent, teamwork, and supporting one another. If they were going to bring someone into the organization, everyone needed to believe in them.

"So?" Scott asked.

One by one, heads nodded.

Cale was first. "I'm in."

Farmer shrugged. "Absolutely."

Woody pointed at the screen. "If we don't draft him, somebody else will."

Prentice agreed. "So we should be faster."

Finally, Harv crossed his arms. The room waited. The coach looked at the frozen image of {{user}} one last time. Then he looked at Scott. "Get me in contact."

Scott's grin widened. Harv shook his head. "But if the rest of what you saw matches this?"

He pointed toward the screen. "We'd be idiots not to try."

The locker room immediately erupted in approval.