Game Against Franklin I

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~~~(POV: Ulysses Kennedy)~~~

~~~(Date: November 3rd, 2025)~~~

~~~(Time: 3:25 PM)~~~

~~~(Location: Franklin Highschool Gym)~~~

Having my girlfriend talked to like that will make me mad, but that doesn't mean I'll play badly. Deshawn isn't the one that was talking to my girlfriend, but it was his little brother. The game is almost starting, and the ref is preparing the jump ball. "Just so you know, I'm way better than my brother Deshawn." The kid starts yapping in my ear, and his brother shakes his head.

Deshawn is guarding me, but his brother is starting close enough to talk in the tipoff. Tyler and the opposing center jump up for the ball, and we gain possession. The ball immediately comes to me, and I start to dribble past the half-court line calmly. Deshawn's little brother decides to switch onto me, and he waves off defenders for isolation.

He's going to regret taking this as light as he is. You're never as good as you think you are. He recklessly reaches in, and I perform a quick spin move and get to the top of the key. My shot isn't contested, and it swishes in for two points. My focus is entirely on the game. The boos from the Franklin home crowd nearly shake the floor.

My light jogging onto defense emphasizes how easy this will be if I'm playing Deshawn's little brother. The kid is around 6'6, and he's a sophomore, by the looks of it. Up the court from where we came from, I see the two brothers exchanging words. Deshawn is trying to impart knowledge on his little brother, but he ignores him, and the team comes up the court.

~~~(POV: Deshawn)~~~

~~~(Time: 3:26 PM)~~~

Will is being a complete idiot, and if he doesn't focus, we're going to lose this game. "Will, he isn't some scrub from a no-name team... He's going number 1 in the NBA draft next year and is the first player of his kind. You need to stop underestimating him and overestimating yourself. The only way we're going to win is if we work together." My words don't reach him as we jog across the court.

Our point guard is bringing it up behind us, and we fall into positions. Ulysses takes me on defense, and I try to get free for a jump shot. He's right on my tail and on me like white is to snow. It's not making it any easier since he's taller than me. His long wingspan stretches out and stops me from making in drives. Time to go old school.

I turn my back to him and start driving my shoulder into his chest. He hardly moves, but I'm making some progress. He's gotten stronger since last year. "The shot clock is winding down! Pass it here!" My brother shouts from the corner to my right. We're about 15 feet apart, and he's also covered. No sense in passing it to him.

I spin and try to do a fadeaway from 12 feet, but his hand is on the other side of the ball, stopping me from getting it off. He rips the ball from my hands with one hand and starts a fastbreak instantly. His speed is unnatural and freaky at his height. He's already at the other end of the court, and I'm trying to keep up, but I can't move as he can.

He slams it down with two hands, and that brings the score to 0-4 in their favor. He's already got 2 points and a block. This game is going to suck. He starts jogging back, and Will tries to trash talk him, but Ulysses doesn't even acknowledge his existence. The difference is on full display as Will leans into his lower back on defense.

I come down the court with the point guard to run a play this time. We set screens and get our shooting guard open, he puts up a three-pointer, and it sinks. Making the score 3-4 in their favor. "Now that's what I like to see!" Our Coach is already yelling from the sides. "Keep the ball from Ulysses!" Easier said than done, Greg.

The point guard hands the ball off to Ulysses at the half-court line, and I hear words exchange between them. "Give me the ball every possession." It doesn't sound like a request. It sounds like an order. Ulysses slowly brings the ball from behind the arch, and Will pushes on him again. He pivots and fakes, causing Will to falter a little. Ulysses pulls up from three and is pushed by my brother.

The worst part is the refs blow the whistle, and the shot falls. Marking a four-point play. "God Damn it! Will, you're out of the game!" Could've done that a little sooner, Greg. Will cusses up a storm while walking towards our bench. Maybe next time, he'll keep his mouth shut. I learned the hard way from talking about Ulysses's aunt when she came to the playoff game.