TITLE: Magic Shoes
If I had known my shorts would fall down in front of a bunch of varsity hotshots, I never would have gone to play ball at The Wick.
I'm not stupid. These things can take a serious bite out of your rep. And when the biggest baller of them all is your older brother, it's agony like a thousand bee stings to the face.
The only thing worse than being invisible is living in the shadow of your older brother. And my brother Adam cast a Godzilla-sized shadow. As Big Men on Campus go, Adam was Paul Bunyan. Minus the axe. Girls loved him, their parents loved him, even teachers loved him. I was somewhat less enthusiastic. His summer job down at the A&W consisted of serving ice cold root beer to girls with hair that smelled like peaches as they leaned over the counter to flirt with him. While I was dripping sweat from hours spent honing my jump shot in the driveway, he was sitting in our air-conditioned den asking Mom and Dad to bring him more lemonade while he watched music videos. Tough gig - watching hot dogs sizzle on their little metal racks for eight hours a day. Sometimes, I wished he would just go sizzle. But if he did, he couldn't help me on my game. I needed Adam, so I put up with his Adam-centered existence.