1 Guess the Location

A wave of Arctic breath caresses your features. The faint aroma of perspiration and grease permeate from the very essence of the brickwork. Phantom cheers from bypast games echo in your ears. The emotions of competitors, both friend and foe, emanate through the vacant arena. Your gooseflesh isn't just from the chilled temperature. Rather, it's more from the anticipation of what is to occur on the placid sheet of ice. A tingling sensation forges within the depths of your being. The suspension is virtually intolerable; you can barely linger to savour the sensation. Your body practically demands that you discharge this liveliness immediately, but it is not yet game time. So, you grasp at the remainder of your self control and whirl towards the wretched change rooms; hockey bag in tow.