oh ya?
...end or foe? The gym fills with spectators, and there's a surge of noise and excitement. Inside, the lighting seems unusually low. There's more dark than light in the rafters and the court looks like dusk on a cloudy day. But the darkness doesn't dampen school spirit. It's 20 minutes to game time. Marchione calls the games between these two rivals "the holy wars." Never mind that Mother Teresa, or "MT," situated in the northeast corner of the city, derives its name from a nun and saint. Or that Jean Vanier, in midtown-Scarborough, is named after a Canadian theologian and founder of the L'Arche communities for the mentally disabled. These games are always close and always intense. Today, the saint and the great Canadian will do battle. Oliver continues to pace and fidget inside the changeroom when in walks Steve Meehan, Vanier's assistant basketball coach, with a sack full of basketballs slung over one shoulder. "How much time left?" Marchione asks him. "If anybody could see out there, I'd be able to tell you," Meehan replies. "That's the darkest gym I've seen in my whole life. Isn't that unreal? It's always been bad, but it's worse today." "Yeah, and they never do anything to fix it," pipes in Brandon Prince, Oliver's younger brother. Every high school gym in Toronto has its quirks. Vanier's gym, for instance, is small, a full 20 feet shorter than a standard 94-foot basketball court. But it's bigger than the gym at Eastern Commerce, home of the defending provincial champions. Down there you can't even shoot a three-pointer from the corner without stepping out of bounds. And Mother Teresa has the darkest gym in the city. Suddenly a thunderous noise is heard coming from the bleachers. Bump, bump ... bump, bump, bump, bump. It might be the booming bass from a hip-hop song, or it could be the stomping of impatient feet in the bleachers. From the locker room, it's hard to tell. Oliver tucks a ball under his arm and paces a tight figure-eight near the door. Earlier this week he met with an occupational therapist and performed exercises to strengthen his left arm and left leg. He's ready to play ball. He drapes the hood of his parka over his head and wears the coat like a cape. "Let's go, yo!" Oliver marches across the court to the visitors' bench and drops his gym bag and parka on the floor. He's still wearing his headphones. Hip-hop gets him hyped. He needs that before a game — especially this one. His teammates stream into the gym behind him. There's Andrew "Drew" Lomond, Oliver's best friend and the only white player on Vanier's team. There's also Brian DaSilva. At 18, he's a solid and reliable player, although right now he has more pressing concerns than basketball. A month from now he'll be a father. Together, Oliver at 6-foot-5, Drew at 6-foot-7 and Brian at 6-foot-6 form the tallest front line in Toronto, though the three are rarely on the court at the same time. And then there's Nedrie Simmons, who enters the gym just minutes before the game. At 5-foot-7 he's the team's shortest player. The son of a former champion boxer, he's determined to prove that basketball is his true calling. These four are the best-known players at Vanier, the team's ambassadors. But Oliver Prince attracts the most attention. Not only in school but across Toronto and, more importantly, south of the border. Less than two minutes into the game, he shows why U.S. college coaches used to drool over him. After a bounce pass from a teammate, Oliver catches the ball in the right corner and takes three giant steps toward the basket. He leaps off one foot and raises the ball to dunk it. Jemino Sobers, Mother Teresa's best player, jumps and raises an arm to swat Oliver's shot. Jemino stands 6-foot-7 and is a member of Canada's junior national team. In three months, he will accept a scholarship to Central Connecticut State University. But for now, he's about to be crowned by the Prince. Oliver glides right past Jemino, on to the other side of the rim. He cradles the ball down by his right hip, cocks his head to keep it from hitting the backboard. Jemino tries to block the shot but Oliver unleashes an overhand jam that brings even MT fans to their feet. This is the type of aggressive play Marchione wants to see in this game. At practice, he drilled his players on an offensive game plan that involved pounding the ball inside, getting fouled and shooting free throws. Most of all, he wanted his team to attack and wear down Jemino. That's just what Oliver's doing. Marchione loves Oliver's natural athletic prowess, his ability to sprint down the court and finish a play with a big dunk. His raw strength and willingness to bang bodies beneath the basket. And his incredible agility, leaping higher than other players and grabbing rebounds they can't reach. Before Oliver even entered high school, word of his abilities reached U.S. college coaches. By the end of Grade 11, at age 17, Oliver was one of the best high school players in the province. Top American schools like Michigan State, Florida and Auburn wooed him with recruiting letters. Most players can only dream of receiving that kind of attention. Marchione, however, also knows Oliver's weaknesses. His jump shot is suspect. Marchione says it's much better than it was two years ago, but still needs to improve. Also, Oliver tends to dribble with only his right hand, and even that is shaky. But it's Oliver's simmering and at times explosive temper that most worries Vanier's head coach. Last week's game against the Saints was a case in point. After receiving the technical foul for arguing with the referee, Oliver seethed even after the game. He hasn't always been this way. His coaches, teammates, even Oliver himself, say they notice a disturbing change in his behaviour since his near-fatal accident in August, 2001. It occurred one afternoon as Oliver and Brandon were crossing Victoria Park Ave. at Eglinton, a busy intersection in the heart of Scarborough. Oliver remembers turning his head in time to see a flash of yellow. In a split-second, according to news reports, a speeding car struck Oliver and threw him more than 15 metres before he landed on the pavement. He was rushed to Sunnybrook hospital and underwent emergency surgery to relieve swelling on his brain. Doctors told his mother, Yvonne, that her son probably wouldn't survive the first night. If he did, they said, he'd probably be brain-damaged. He remained in a coma after the operation. Yvonne stayed by her son's side day and night. So did Brandon, whose ankle was broken in the accident. Coaches Meehan and Marchione visited every day and prayed for Oliver's recovery. Then, nine days after the accident, Oliver awoke. He spent three months in occupational therapy at Bloorview MacMillan Children's Centre, where he says a doctor told him he'd never play basketball again. He's still bitter about that. Basketball was never just a game to him. He considered it his future and a part of his identity. Besides, he proved that doctor wrong. He's back on the court, in his first full season since the accident, playing against the Mother Teresa Titans and putting Marchione's game plan into action. He's playing hard on defence, co-operating with his teammates and, when he has the ball, attacking the basket again and again. By halftime, Vanier is ahead 34-29. Stakes are high today. They always are with Vanier and MT, two of the most successful Catholic school basketball programs in the city. Right now they're the two top teams in the East division of the Toronto District Colleges Athletic Association (TDCAA), a league composed mainly of Toronto's Catholic high schools. Since 1995, both teams have won the TDCAA title twice and both have finished second three times. Success like that attracts talent. Vanier drew Oliver, who started his high school career at Markham District High School, then transferred to Vanier for Grade 11. It also brought in Nedrie, who spent three years at the George S. Henry Academy in Don Mills before switching to Vanier. And it lured Drew, who attended Albert Campbell Collegiate in Agincourt before transferring to Vanier. Today, Drew is one of the few white people in the gym who's not a coach or a teacher. But his skin colour doesn't stop him from fitting in. In fact, he embraces the same black culture his teammates do, a hybrid that draws from their Toronto upbringing, their Caribbean-island heritage and the influence of African-American culture. In the summer, he wore his sandy brown hair in cornrows. He listens to hip-hop and reggae, and he often laces his speech with Jamaican patois. Drew stands 6-foot-7 and weighs 230 pounds. He's one of the biggest players in the league and Web sites devoted to Toronto high school basketball say he is of the best. American schools like Central Michigan, Norfolk State and Appalachian State have all made early contact with him recently. Like his best friend Oliver, Drew dreams of a career in the NBA. But unlike Oliver, who says he could reach that level with a few more years of hard work, Drew boasts he could play in the NBA today. He'll get his chance to prove his talents in the new year. That apparent self-assurance, Marchione says, is "false bravado." Drew talks a big game but Marchione can tell, watching him play, that he's not that confident. It's an astute observation from a gym teacher who, at this point, doesn't know Drew once struggled to overcome shyness and obesity. He used to be so ashamed of his body he would keep a T-shirt on at pool parties. As far as his game goes, Drew doesn't like to use his size to bang beneath the basket. He'd rather float 2...