Big Brother

As I mopped sweat from my forehead and onto my already flooded shirt, I realized I could not lose this game. It was fourth and goal, and the he was only three yards away from the end zone.
I looked back to see my smiling parents watching from a window inside. They were smart and decided to watch from the air-conditioned family room.

I called for a timeout and pondered what I could do to maintain the score. After the short timeout, I lined up on the goal line, awaiting the snap.

“Hike!” he shouted.
I tried to read which way he was going. As he pulled a quick cutback move, I lost my footing. I slipped on the grass and watched my eight-year-old brother run into the end zone, hands held high.

Any other kid his age would have done a bragging, victory dance in the end zone. Not him, though.

He had never seen his big brother do it, so he figured it wasn’t “cool.”

I was happy for him. I taught him everything he knew about football. My parents thought I let him win, but I knew he won by himself.

I went over to him, congratulated him, and we walked side by side back indoors, where we enjoyed an ice cold Pepsi.

It’s difficult growing up with a brother ten years younger. But it’s taught me to be a leader, a role model, and most of all, to have fun in ways I normally wouldn’t. I may have taught my brother all he knows about football, but he has taught me how to be a compassionate role model and a leader. To college, I will bring with me my memories, experiences, and leadership skills.