On Barlow Park Road where the streetlights hum low
Lives Timothy Brooks and a ball he won't throw
Away for a minute — it bounces to school,
It bounces to dinner. That ball is his rule.
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Timothy Loves Basketball
A Ten-Page Story to Read and Color
Ages 4–9 · Black Coloring Books
Ages 4–9 · Practice · Humility · Teamwork
Timothy Loves Basketball
A Ten-Page Story to Read and Color
Timothy Brooks is the smallest kid on the Barlow Park court, and the first shot he ever takes in a real game falls a foot short of the rim. He puts the ball in the closet. Then his big sister opens a shoebox of photographs and shows him a girl on a bench in a jersey too wide. Ten rhyming pages, ten detailed line drawings, and one boy who learns that the part nobody claps for is the part that wins the game.
- Story spine
- Love of the game · Failure · A sister's photo · The quiet work · The pass
- Who you're coloring
- Timothy Brooks, eight years old, short fade with a crisp lineup, big ears, gap-toothed grin, sleeveless jersey, long shorts, worn high-tops and a wristband he never takes off.
14 pages · 8.5 × 11 PDF · cover, story pages and a blank plaque to finish
Read it first — free
All ten pages
The court by the fence has a rim that leans right,
Where the big kids play hard from the morning to night.
He's smallest of all, barely up to their chins,
But he waits on the sideline each day till he's in.
2
One Saturday morning they called out his name.
He stepped on the blacktop, first time in the game.
He shot from the corner as high as he could —
It fell a foot short of the rim. Short for good.
3
They lost by two points and then nobody spoke.
Somebody laughed and said, “Man, what a joke.”
He walked the long way with his head hanging down
And a ball that felt heavy as half of the town.
4
He shoved the ball deep in his closet that night
And he pushed the door shut so it sat out of sight.
“I'm too small,” Timothy said to the wall.
“Some kids are just born to be no good at all.”
5
Then Nia, his sister, sat down on the floor
With a shoebox of photos she'd not shown before.
A girl on a bench in a jersey too wide.
“That's me,” Nia told him. “Two seasons. I cried.”
6
“I shot before school when the grass was still wet.
I missed and I missed and I missed. And I'd get
Back up for another. No crowd and no fame.
The quiet part, Timmy — that's most of the game.”
7
So Timothy chalked up a square on the shed
And he shot at it, mornings, till lights overhead
Clicked on down the block. He shot into the rain.
He counted a hundred, then counted again.
8
Come fall he got picked. And the last game of all
Came down to four seconds and Timothy's ball.
Two guards closed around him. He looked. And he knew.
Malik stood wide open — he passed. And it flew.
9
The net snapped. The whole park went up in a roar.
And Timothy, grinning, kept count like before —
Not baskets, but evenings he chose to begin.
So what will you practice tonight? Go on in.
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