A True Cinderella Story

This is a true Cinderella story. So ultimate that David refers to his battle with Goliath as a real "Joel and Manuel."

Manuel is not a Latino. We pronounced his name "Manual" not "Man-well".

He is my older, more physically superior brother. At the time, he was 6'1 and around 170 pounds. I was 5'7 and weighed 115 pounds wet.

Growing up we played countless games of basketball. I had never really beat him, besides the one time he had the squirts (but that doesn't count).

His record was 6,564-0.

Most games ended the same.

For almost 6,564 games, he would get a large enough lead and succumb to boredom. He would Dikembe Mutombo my shot and I would have to retrieve it.

It sucks losing all the time, so I took my time getting the ball. This irritated him, so he would taunt me by throwing rocks at me.

Whenever I made it back to the court, I would do the one thing to really get him. I would spit on him and run like a coward.

He was faster and stronger than me, so I ran until anticipating being tackled. Directly before impact, I would fall down in the fetal position while he dished out whatever punishment he deemed appropriate.

However, that all changed one day.

He was a senior in high school and I was a freshman. Number 6,565 had to be different, since we had an audience. His girlfriend and my best friend from high school were spectators.

Manuel and I had been battling it out.

Trading shots back and forth. Pounding the asphalt. Trash talking about each other's momma. It was a close game.

All brothers understand there is something more powerful than physical prowess in any competition. An older brother has the ability to get in their younger brother's head and reek havoc.

He was attempting to gain an advantage with a mental game. But I had the ball, a tied score, and a dream.

Then something happened. Call it fate. Call it destiny. But it began pouring down rain. It was as if God was baptizing me, because I felt the Spirit of the Lord fall upon me.

My foe sensed it, because he offered a treaty, "Do you want to quit?" I wanted victory.

At this point everything moved in slow motion.

I can't remember the shot that put me up by two. But the next shot was so legendary that it took down a dynasty.

At the top of the key, I checked the ball with him. He stunk with fear, but his eyes revealed a secret. He knew I would fail and he would get the ball back. He had been here before.

I lowered my position and readied myself. Faking left, but going right, I worked my crossover.

He knew my game and wasn't juked. He was all over me, as I neared the basket.

At the baseline about ten feet from the basket, I shot a floater that stay in the air so long that he had time to shout, "You could have had a wide open shot!"

But I didn't need it.

As we turned, the ball fell through the nylon. The same nylon that had offered countless defeats now offered sweet victory.

I lost myself in the moment.

My arms lifted in triumph. I jumped repeatedly in a puddle. I can't remember what trash talk was dished out, but I pray it was humiliating for him. 

The crowd of two went wild.

A new era in my relationship with my older brother had begun. One of a little more respect. The little brother could win.

Question:
Who do you think will win the NCAA tournament?