It was 5 o’clock in the evening and the sun was beginning to set. The street lights around the midwestern town flicked on one by one, which signaled to all the kids playing outside that it was time to go home. They took their time walking back and gave their friends long goodbyes, despite knowing they all lived next door with each other. All their nights generally ended the same: The lights would turn on, they’d all say good night to their playmates, then go back home to prepare for dinner. Everything was like clockwork; but tonight, the routine was broken for one little boy.

Matthew, a mini basketball player, spent the whole day in his driveway playing basketball with himself and occasionally playing with those who would choose to pass by. At the end of the day, he sat on the front porch steps of his house, not paying attention to the street lights turning on, the kids around him running inside, nor to the almost deafening silence left behind after the whole block had cleared out. He stayed lost in thought as he woefully dribbled his basketball beside him.

As he lingered behind, his older brother, DeMarcus, noticed him sitting alone outside and decided to check on him. “Hey. Mom said dinner’s almost ready,” he informed as he watched intently for Matthew’s reaction. Matthew nodded indifferently at the notice as he continued to dribble his basketball. Demarcus was worried by his response. Usually when he heard that his mom was making dinner, he’d rush to the kitchen to see if he could help with anything to make the cooking go faster. DeMarcus let the front door close behind him as walked out onto the front porch steps and sat down right next to his younger brother. They sat in silence for a minute as they settled into each other's company, then DeMarcus turned to look at Matthew. “What’s eating you, Matt?” he asked simply.

Matthew shuffled nervously in his seat at the question, hesitating for a moment before he answered. “I don’t wanna play in the game tomorrow,” he admitted defeatedly. DeMarcus flinched in surprise at the news. “What?! Why not?” He spat out in concern. “You’ve been practicing everyday and working hard all summer just for this game.” He was baffled by his younger brother’s sudden change of heart. He eagerly waited for his response in hopes of finding out why he felt this way, but when he was met by a stubborn silence, he kept pushing for an answer. “Don’t tell me that potbellied coach finally got to you.” His brows furrowed harshly at the thought of said coach. When Matthew looked away and shuffled in his seat again, he knew that was exactly what the problem was. 

“Look,” DeMarcus continued, “me and mom watch you at your practices. You don’t suck not half as bad as Coach Richard makes it out to be. I’m telling you, he’s a bad coach and you deserve a better one that can at least see his feet. He’s just being hard on you because he sucks. I see you out there. You’re a good player!” “Not good enough,” Matthew argued, cutting off his last sentence. “How good am I if I can’t even handle Coach Richard?” A short silence hung in the air. He stopped dribbling the ball at this point. His arms were wrapped around his knees and started to look as defeated as he felt. DeMarcus took a deep breath and took a moment to collect his thoughts before he responded. “Do you remember when you went against that older basketball player?” he asked, letting another short silence go by to give his younger brother time to respond. He was met with another stubborn silence, so he kept talking. “I remember. You were half the size of him and you broke his ankles. He was so angry that he called his friends to help him beat you in a rematch.” DeMarcus glanced over at Matthew. His head was resting on his arms and was listening intently. The memory of the older boy made him smile a bit. “Not only did you beat them anyway,” he continued, “but you broke his friend’s ankles too. One of them even fell over!” Matthew giggled at that detail. DeMarcus smiled at his younger brother’s laugh.

An idea sparked in DeMarcus’ head as he stood up and grabbed for the basketball. “Play a match with me real quick,” he requested as he made his way to the driveway. Matthew thought about it for a moment before standing up and joining him on the driveway. It started off slow, but as the game went on they increased intensity. Despite Matthew being the youngest, he was more than capable to keep up, and even exceed his older brother’s abilities. He scored on DeMarcus far more times than he could on him. “See?” DeMarcus protested, “You are a good player.” That comment made Matthew smile and had successfully overcast Coach Richard’s bad comments. 

“Come on, let’s play another game!” Matthew insisted, but was cut off by his mom calling for them at the front door telling them that dinner was ready. This snapped them back into reality. They were so focused on the game that they didn’t even notice that the sun had completely set and it was now dark outside. They laughed at this to themselves as they made their way back to the house. “Are you still thinking about ditching the game tomorrow?” DeMarcus asked. He thought about it for a second, then looked at his brother with a smile “No, not really.” His smile made his older brother smile. “That’s what I’m talking about! And I’ll talk to mom about finding you a new team.”