“MY BALL” Little Timmy’s Big Game

Written & Illustrated By

Timothy Lee Cayson Jr

Timmy loved sports more than anything else in the world. At just nine years old, he could run faster, jump higher, and shoot better than most kids his age. His favorite sport was basketball, and every day after school, he'd race to the neighborhood court with his friends, dribbling his bright orange basketball all the way there.

Timmy’s house was full of competition. His dad had been a star athlete, and Timmy’s younger brothers were just as sporty. They played football, soccer, and basketball every chance they got. Even dinner time turned into a game, with everyone racing to finish their plates first! It was all in good fun, but Timmy always wanted to prove he could be just as great as his family.

On the basketball court, Timmy was a little star. He could dribble circles around his friends and sink three-pointers like it was nothing. But when older kids showed up, Timmy would freeze. They were bigger, louder, and stronger, and even though Timmy knew he was good, he was scared to show it in front of them.

One sunny afternoon, Timmy and his friends were playing a friendly game of basketball. They were laughing and passing the ball around when a group of older kids walked onto the court. These boys were tall and intimidating, with deep voices and confident smirks. One of them, a boy named Marcus, called out, “Alright, kids. Court’s ours now.”

Timmy’s friends stopped playing and glanced nervously at each other. They didn’t want any trouble. But Timmy wasn’t about to give up so easily. After all, it was his ball they were playing with. He held the basketball tightly under his arm and stood his ground. “If we can’t play, then no one is,” Timmy said, his voice steady but firm.

Marcus raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Alright, little man. How about this? We play one-on-one. If you win, you keep the court. If I win, you hand it over.”

Timmy’s heart raced. He wanted to say no, to run away like his friends were whispering for him to do. But something inside him wouldn’t let him back down. He nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said, gripping the ball a little tighter.

The game began, and Marcus started strong. He was fast and tall, and his long arms made it hard for Timmy to get close to the hoop. The older kids on the sidelines cheered loudly, making Timmy’s stomach churn. He felt small under their watchful eyes.

But then, Timmy remembered all the hours he’d spent practicing in his driveway. He remembered the nights he stayed outside, shooting free throws until the stars came out. He took a deep breath and focused.

Timmy dribbled the ball quickly, weaving around Marcus like a thread through a needle. He faked left, then darted right, surprising the older boy. With a quick jump, Timmy shot the ball, and it swooshed cleanly through the net. His friends erupted in cheers, their fear forgotten.

The game went on, and Timmy started to catch up. Marcus was good, but Timmy had speed and precision on his side. With the score tied and only one point left to win, Timmy had the ball.

He dribbled past Marcus, his heart pounding in his ears. The older boy tried to block him, but Timmy spun around him effortlessly. He jumped high, releasing the ball just as Marcus lunged toward him. The ball soared through the air, spinning in slow motion.

Swish! It went through the hoop. Timmy had won.

The younger boys erupted into cheers, jumping up and down in excitement. Timmy’s face flushed with happiness, but he didn’t show off or brag. Instead, he walked over to Marcus and held out his hand. “Good game,” he said with a small smile.

Marcus looked surprised for a moment, then grinned and shook Timmy’s hand. “Good game, kid,” he said. “You’ve got skills.”

From that day on, Timmy wasn’t afraid to play against the older kids anymore. He learned that being a good sport and believing in himself were just as important as winning. And every time he stepped onto the court, he played with the same heart and determination that had won him the big game.