The Unfinished Game
- Nick Ho
- Jan 28
- 4 min read
Updated: Jan 30
[🎧 The audio version is available at the bottom of the page.] ⬇
(Scene: A Coffee Shop, somewhere in England, afternoon. YOU sit at a small table near the counter, typing on your laptop.)
(As you stretch and sit back, your eyes land on a tall MAN at the counter, grabbing a sandwich and a bottle of juice. There’s something familiar about him. When he turns, your breath catches.)
(He pauses, looks straight at you, and his face lights up with recognition.)
Man: Wait a second… Is that you, Joe?
(You blink, caught off guard, then smile faintly.)
You: Kingsley?
Man: Thought it was you. Benson Kingsley. Been, what—fifteen years now?
(He places his sandwich and drink on your table. You nod, still processing the moment.)
You: Yeah… it’s been a while.
Benson: So, how’ve you been? What brings you back here?
You: Visiting family. You?
Benson: Came for a wedding—Katherine Bennett's. Do you know her?
You: Can’t say I do. How was the wedding?
Benson: It was nice. Saw a lot of familiar faces—mates, teachers. Hard to believe I’m 32 now.
You: You still look young.
Benson: Thanks. Funny thing though, driving here this morning, I had a feeling I’d run into someone special. Turns out, it’s you.
You: Disappointed?
Benson: Not in the slightest. Actually, you’re the exact person I wanted to see. So… what’re you working on?
(You gesture at your laptop.)
You: Some app work for a client. Amend this, fix that… Nothing exciting.
Benson: Still the tech genius, I see. My brother used to rave about how clever you were.
(At the mention of Elliot, you feel a pang in your chest. Benson’s the one who brought him up, so you cautiously respond.)
You: I’m sorry about Elliot. I didn’t even find out until a year later. Missed the funeral… everything.
(Benson’s smile fades slightly, replaced by a softer expression.)
Benson: Thanks. It was a long time ago… but some things still feel fresh, you know?
(You nod, letting the silence linger.)
Benson: Honestly, I felt like I knew you just from the things Elliot said about you. You were the only one who really got him.
You: Really? He didn’t talk much about you, though.
Benson: Not surprised. Elliot hated being home. We weren’t exactly close. I reckon he resented having a brother like me.
(He picks up his drink, taking a small sip.)
Benson: I mean, who would? I was the perfect son in Mum and Dad’s eyes, and he got nothing. Can’t blame him for resenting me.
(Benson’s voice quivers slightly, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of the younger brother still burdened with guilt and regret.)
You: So, what are you up to these days?
Benson: Basketball coach. Youth league.
You: You? Coaching basketball? I don’t remember you being into it back then.
Benson: Neither do I. Got into it later—uni days in the U.S. Made some friends who were obsessed, and it just stuck. Funny how life works.
You: It’s still one of my dreams to see the NBA Finals in person someday.
Benson: You always did love basketball, just like Elliot.
You: The game’s changed a lot, but it’s still a big part of me… even if I’m rubbish at playing.
(You lift your shirt to show him your round belly. You both laugh, but a silence follows, and you sense there’s more Benson isn’t saying.)
You: So… what’s it like? Coaching, I mean.
Benson: It’s been fulfilling. I work with a new team—a small, diverse lot. Like a mini United Nations, really. They’ve got so much heart. Keeps me on my toes.
You: That’s incredible.
(Benson leans back, a fond smile on his face.)
Benson: The team’s called the Castle. The owner is an old guy, Mr. Carter. A huge fan of youth basketball. He just wants the boys to enjoy the game and grow into good people. He’s the kindest guy I know. We met by chance at a Timpson store, of all places.
You: A Timpson store? What was he doing there?
Benson: Working! Can you believe that? I just went in to get my watch fixed, and we got talking. Turns out, he owns a basketball team. Can you imagine that? A Timpson worker and a team owner?
You: So… coaching. Does it feel right?
Benson: Honestly? I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just trying to make up for what Elliot never got to finish. Like his game isn’t over yet. It’s hard to explain.
(You study him, his voice carrying the weight of things left unsaid.)
You: It wasn’t your fault, you know.
Benson: Yeah, but I didn’t make it easy for him either. I was a real jerk back then. Always trying to one-up him. I don’t think any of us—me, Mum, or Dad—ever saw him play basketball. How mad is that? All those years, and none of us showed up for him. Never made the effort.
You: You think coaching’s about making it up to him?
Benson: Maybe. Or maybe it’s for me, too. I don’t know. But every time I step onto the court, I think of him.
(There’s a silence between you, filled with unspoken understanding. You look at him, seeing not just Benson, but a shadow of Elliot in his eyes. Finally, you speak.)
You: I think he’d be proud of you. He always wanted to win something big, didn’t he? Maybe this is your way of helping him do that.
(Benson looks at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.)
Benson: You still love basketball, huh?
You: Always.
(Benson straightens, a spark of determination in his eyes.)
Benson: Good. We’re looking for an assistant coach. Someone who loves the game, who gets the players. I reckon that’s you.
(You laugh, shaking your head.)
You: Me? No chance. I’ve never coached, barely played…
Benson: Doesn’t matter. It’s not about experience—it’s about heart. And you’ve got that. That’s what the boys need. Think about it.
(For a moment, you’re quiet. The idea lingers in the air. You glance at your laptop, then back at Benson.)
You: Alright, Ben. Let’s finish this game.
(Benson’s grin widens, a surge of relief and excitement crossing his face. For the first time in years, you feel like the past has led you exactly where you need to be.)
(Posted on 28.1.2025)
Commentaires