Deflated balls

Coming out of the gym, Frank saw a deflated basketball on the street.
"Looks like some idiot punctured it," he said as he picked it up. "Right in front of a field. Man, I'd like to play, but nobody's around." He threw it in bin as he walked away. "Looks like that little spurt of adrenaline made my thigh muscles sore. My injury's picking up again."

Two days later, there was another deflated basketball, at the same minute he came out of the gym.
"Can't be coincidence, right? It's seven-twenty-seven and nobody else is around. Someone's tempting me for something," he sighed, then hooped the ball in the bin; his lips widened and started whistling.

Same time-frame, same minute, similar basketball.
"Hey, Frank, get over here on the court, we've been waiting for an hour," said a pencil-like man.
"Josh?  I thought you were away."
"Idiot, I knew you birthday was coming up. Wouldn't miss it. Besides, I saw your faces the other two days, when you grabbed the balls. I knew you'd have that reaction."
"But why blow them up?"
"You used to blow them when we were younger. I thought you'd remember that."
"Oh... So that's what it was."
"And don't tell me you're still injured. Stacey kept me up to date with you condition, and I don't think you'd go to the gym if you were hurt, right?"
"Well, I kept it easy because I still want to be in shape."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. So, dice?"
"Sure, but only one half of the field. Every time I go in the gym, the wound's acting up. The bathroom."
"That's what you get for dancing on a slippery floor," he chuckled and passed him the ball.
"So, the time is my birthday, huh?
"Yeah, even though it's p.m., it's still seven. And since you're turning thirty...."
"You know you gonna lose, right?"
"We'll see about that."