Eye on the Goal

Tom Day helping his son prepare for an interview with West Point representatives.(Scott Robinson)

As he looked over his high school transcript one day recently, Bill shook his head. "My parents, they were pretty strict academically," he says. "They were always on me, even if I got a B . . . they wanted a B-plus or an A, even though I'm happy if I got a B."

Driven hard by his parents, Bill focused almost entirely on competing academically and developed few passions outside of hockey. The gap year is allowing him to take that single passion as far as he can, even if it does happen to dovetail with his father's desire to see him at West Point.

ON A NOVEMBER MORNING, BEFORE HIS BIG GAME IN MINNESOTA, Bill is at his Vienna home, preparing for a crucial step in his courtship of Army's hockey team: an interview with West Point alumni at the Annandale office of Rep. Thomas M. Davis III (R-Va.), who is considering Bill for a congressional nomination to the U.S. Military Academy. Nominations are needed to apply for most service academies -- Army, Naval, Merchant Marine and Air Force -- and Davis is allowed to offer 10 nominations per academy.

Here in the Days' two-story home, where a framed painting of Washington Hall at West Point hangs by the front door, Bill and his parents have gathered in the kitchen. His dad, Tom, is a senior vice president at the U.S. Postal Service, and his mother is a personal care assistant for the elderly. Dressed in light Polo chinos, blue shirt and red tie, Bill is flipping through the newspaper's sports section when his dad walks over and peers at the page.

"You see they opened a new Marine Corps museum? And the president announced that a Marine from Iraq won a Medal of Honor?" Tom Day asks his son.

"What did he do?" Bill asks. "I assume he's dead?"

"Yeah, he died," his father says.

After a short drive, Tom drops Bill off at the congressman's office on Annandale Road and waits in the car. In Suite 103, a few other students are waiting in chairs, surrounded by walls decorated with plaques and flags. Bill sits and starts tapping his right hand on his leg.

Then, Carol Ford, the congressman's service academy coordinator, comes in to explain how it works, which is akin to speed dating. Everyone meets with three West Point alumni for 15 minutes each.

"They're not trying to trick you," Ford tells them. "They'll ask you what your career plans are. What are your backups." Bill continues tapping his leg.

Soon, Bill begins his interviews, which are held in private, and each time he returns to the waiting room, he appears more confident. As he walks out, his demeanor has relaxed. "I think it went well," he says. "Just about every question, I prepared with Dad. Nothing was a surprise."

A FEW WEEKS LATER, IN DECEMBER, BILL WAKES UP EARLY FOR ANOTHER STEP IN HIS LIFE'S GAME PLAN: English and calculus classes at Northern Virginia Community College. He acknowledges that the work at NOVA is too easy for him, but the classes, he hopes, could gild his application to West Point, showing that he's not exploiting his year off for what could seem like simple play.