Good Guys Finish First
Jarron Collins is munching a bagel in a crowded restaurant while his twin brother, Jason, picks at a Cobb salad. Their parents share a bowl of chicken soup and review the family’s busy itinerary for the next few days: a formal dinner, an awards brunch, an autograph-signing session, a Stanford mixer at the Music Center.
But the quiet late-night dinner doesn’t stay private for long. Patrons at Jerry’s Famous Deli in Encino eventually give in to temptation and begin filing to the large round table in the corner of the dining room.
Before Paul Collins can rattle off the details of the dinner they are to attend the following evening at the Biltmore, a young boy with red hair and freckles presents a pen and blank notebook to Jarron, pleading for his autograph. Then he turns to Jason. A friend follows with pen and paper, mumbling the same request. They are the first of many who cannot resist dipping into L.A.’s celebrity pool. The hoopla winds down half an hour later with a photo session--the Collins family poses with an elderly woman who says the boys attend the same high school as her grandson.
When Paul finally resumes the conversation, it’s with his wife, Portia. Jason and Jarron have headed toward the parking lot with their dinners still unfinished to go back to their house and tackle their homework. But they’re not complaining.
“Don’t think for a minute that my boys don’t like all of the attention,” Portia Collins grins. “They don’t go out looking for it, but they also have never objected to being in the middle of everything. As parents, we’ve just tried to make sure they’re grateful. We didn’t raise brats.”
Indeed. Jason and Jarron, 18, have become two of the most popular and identifiable figures in the San Fernando Valley. The mere act of walking outside is a challenge. They certainly can’t spend a weekend evening with friends at their favorite hangout, Universal CityWalk, because the autograph requests and attention have escalated to an almost unmanageable level.
The twins have reached such a pinnacle simply by leading Harvard-Westlake--a private Studio City high school better known for its glittering academic standards (99% of its graduates are accepted to four-year colleges)--to a 93% winning record on the basketball court since 1993. They attended the Nike All-American Camp last summer, featuring the top 150 high school players in the nation, and participated in the McDonald’s High School All-American game, two of only 23 players in a contest that was nationally televised in March.
Theirs is a story of brains and brawn (the twins are 6 feet, 10 inches and muscular), of ambition and discipline, of devotion and competition, of two parents who pulled off a minor miracle with the eyes of the world upon them: nice kids.
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In the spring of 1993, the second-guessing was rampant among the Southland’s tightknit basketball community, which wondered why Jason and Jarron, only 14 but already pegged as potential superstars, would enroll at a school that has traditionally promoted its debate team rather than its basketball squad. But Paul and Portia ignored the grumblings and followed their hearts: to seek the best possible education for their children. It did not matter that Harvard-Westlake had never won any basketball titles or that only one in 20 students was African American. “We’re not raising NBA stars,” snaps Portia. “My kids know their roots and they’re proud of their heritage, whether it be at Harvard-Westlake or in South-Central Los Angeles. But I should have the same right as other parents to make my own choices.”
It was a four-year relationship in which everyone prospered. School officials say Harvard-Westlake has benefited from the successful basketball team, while the twins graduated this month and head to Stanford University on basketball scholarships. Their jerseys were retired at an awards ceremony in the gymnasium last month, generating a standing ovation from the audience of more than 1,000.
Thomas C. Hudnut, Harvard-Westlake headmaster, says Jason and Jarron have shown the world that it’s possible to have it all, “that it’s possible to go to a top academic institution and be prominent athletes as well.”
Because of their size--they were 6 foot 4 at age 12--basketball has always been the favored hobby for Jason and Jarron. But Paul and Portia, who at 6 foot 5 and 6 feet are also easy to spot, approached the sporting world with caution. They could not stop their sons from growing but they could prevent them from becoming sideshow attractions.
Paul researched and monitored practice and playing opportunities throughout Southern California; Portia tended to the domestic front. She took great care to treat her twins as individuals and not to play favorites.
Portia Collins did not know she was going to have twins until they were born--each weighing more than 7 pounds--and it took her six years of monthly meetings at the Mothers of Twins Club to master the do’s and don’ts of raising such siblings. Jason and Jarron didn’t sleep in the same crib. And they weren’t fed at the same time.
They have distinct personalities. Jarron is a stickler for punctuality and is more animated, more demonstrative. Jason is the one who likes to spend his Sundays on the couch watching football. He’s also more methodical and humble. But they live in the world of twindom, a land where dreams are shared and the ties that bind are exponentially tighter than those of stairstep siblings.
“We’ve been teammates since we were 6 years old,” Jason says, “and are familiar with each other’s moves. We know what we’re capable of.”
They rarely have played on opposing teams, even though it has meant playing different positions (Jason’s a center, Jarron a forward). They don’t quarrel in public, and they are remarkably concerned about each other’s well-being. After winning awards for his play after a pair of holiday tournaments last season, Jason confided to Harvard-Westlake Coach Greg Hilliard that he would prefer that Jarron get the next award. He did. Jason’s request didn’t surprise Hilliard. “If one of the boys makes an all-star team or receives an accolade and the other doesn’t, I know one of the boys or their parents are going to raise the issue. They protect each other. I never played favorites. I knew better.”
The brothers attended the seventh and eighth grades at Montclair Prep in Van Nuys, another private school known for its academics. But when the school’s athletic department became immersed in a recruiting scandal, the Collinses decided it was best to leave. Harvard-Westlake was their first choice, but they looked at several other high schools, figuring Harvard-Westlake a long shot because it accepts about one in six applicants. Those who are accepted face a hefty annual tuition of as much as $12,500. Paul and Portia, who own an insurance agency and are graduates of Alfred University near Rochester, N.Y., and Pitzer College, respectively, considered that a fair price for a school whose graduates attend some of the country’s top colleges. Of last year’s 277 graduating seniors, 32 went to UC Berkeley, 11 to Columbia, 10 each to Yale and Stanford and six to Harvard.
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When the Harvard-Westlake acceptance letters arrived together in the spring prior to Jason and Jarron’s freshman year, there was rejoicing at the family’s five-bedroom home in the north San Fernando Valley. Portia explains: “My grandmother grew up in Louisiana and didn’t have the option of going to high school or college.” Her voice grows louder. “My husband and I graduated from college and my sister is an attorney. And, by God, my kids are going to be whatever they want.”
Going to Harvard-Westlake was more than just a full slate of college prep classes and three to four hours of homework every night. It was about new study habits and new classmates--many of whom belong to the area’s wealthiest and most famous families. The new school was a shock, the brothers acknowledge, but peers were won over by a victorious basketball team. “We really never felt like we were less than the other kids,” says Jason. “To be honest, not everyone was as rich as they seemed to be. And Jarron and I have always been comfortable with who we are.”
When Hilliard met the twins, he quickly understood why every high school coach in Southern California wanted to be in his shoes. As freshmen, Jason and Jarron were 6 foot 7, and they knew how to dribble. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. They had to duck when they entered through my door,” says Hilliard, who had compiled a nondescript coaching record prior to the arrival of the brothers. “That night I went to bed and just prayed I wouldn’t screw this opportunity up. Most high school coaches only get a chance like this once.”
On the basketball court, they could dunk the ball with seemingly no effort. They didn’t have to try out for the varsity team their freshman year, a rarity in any high school. The exception did not bother their teammates, who were only too happy to experience a winning season. “Everybody knew they were the whole team, but they never acted like they were better than anyone else,” says Victor Munoz, a junior point guard who’s about a foot shorter than the twins. “They were so much more talented than the rest of us, but they still worked the hardest. They didn’t even hog the ball. They always played within the system.”
Harvard-Westlake’s athletic supporters, used to cheering the water polo, soccer and tennis teams, began filling the gymnasium on Friday nights during the winter. The basketball team won its first 12 games and finished 24-3 in the 1993-’94 season, advancing to the semifinals in the playoffs. Press clippings covered a school bulletin board previously devoid of such material.
The brothers, nicknamed “Twin Towers,” would spend the next three years building the basketball team from an also-ran to a state champion mentioned in the same breath with some of the top programs in the nation. During their junior and senior years, the team posted a 66-3 record, including a pair of state titles (Division III) witnessed by thousands of adoring fans. Its 36-1 record this past season earned it a No. 1 ranking among all teams in the state, with the Harvard-Westlake Wolverines beating traditional powerhouses Mater Dei, Artesia and Westchester in tournament play during the regular season. Several national polls ranked Harvard-Westlake among the Top 10 in the country.
The success resulted in attention never seen on the sprawling Studio City campus. Laker Shaquille O’Neal was one of many noted NBA players who dropped in on a practice--and was remembered as the only visitor who could look down on the twins. Alumni from as far back as 40 years came to see what the fuss was all about. College coaches clamored for the chance to chat with Hilliard, watch videotapes and make eye contact with Jason and Jarron.
The media added to the furor by wearing out the path from the coach’s office to the gym in their bids for an interview with Jason and Jarron. The family, in their continued quest for privacy, rarely gave out their phone number and never allowed reporters into their home.
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The twins are graceful and gracious on the court. Jason, who plays center, broke school records for points, with 2,379, and rebounds, with 1,500. Jarron, a forward, finished as the school’s second-leading scorer, with 1,677 points. They were asked for autographs after nearly every game, and they stayed until each request had been fulfilled. Following an easy victory over Tehachapi in the state tournament this past season, the brothers were surrounded by Tehachapi fans who had made the long drive down from near Bakersfield. Players, their parents and even the cheerleaders lingered for an hour, getting autographs and posing for pictures. “I’ve never minded the attention,” Jarron says. “People have generally been nice, and I’m grateful for my moment in the spotlight. It’s been pretty fun.”
In an interview setting, they are equally gracious. If anything, the media hoopla seems to have smoothed the rough edges associated with most teenagers. Their classmates label them “cool.” Still, the attention has brought comparisons of the twins, which Paul and Portia have tried to avoid. They have raised their sons as equals and chastise anyone who favors one over the other. That may explain why they insisted that Jason and Jarron attend the same college and informed interested parties that the twins were a “package deal.” Few argued with the unusual request, and national basketball powers such as UCLA, Arizona, Duke and Kansas all offered scholarships.
The Collinses deny newspaper stories that claimed the twins were set to sign with UCLA when Jim Harrick was abruptly fired as coach last November for falsifying an expense report for a dinner with a group of recruits that included Jason and Jarron. “When Jim got fired, our telephone rang off the hook,” Paul says with a smile. “Everyone wanted to know what happened and if the boys were still planning to go to UCLA. It was crazy.” A week later, the twins chose Stanford over Arizona. Stanford Coach Mike Montgomery, whose team reached the Sweet 16 in the NCAA tournament in March, referred to the twins as “two of the top five student-athletes in the country.”
“It was the best choice for us,” says Jason, who says he and his brother graduated with “over a 3.0” grade-point average. “The academics are tough, but we’ve been preparing for that kind of study environment for the past four years. I wasn’t happy at first that we had to go to Harvard-Westlake because I wanted to go to a school with a basketball tradition, but it was the right decision. I’ve grown up so much, and now I’m in a situation to make something of myself, whether it be as a professional basketball player or as just a professional.”
The move to college this summer means leaving the protective nest. Paul and Portia won’t be able to shield the twins from nosy outsiders who want to know such personal things as which brother is smarter or nicer or more outgoing. Playing on a team that made the NCAA tournament last season also will mean more media attention and subsequent comparisons. Girls will be calling. Agents will be courting. Coaches will be demanding. Professors will seem unreasonable.
Portia knows her run as mother hen will end and her “highly visible boys” will have to spread their wings. “My husband and I didn’t have a grand plan. We’re not perfect. We learned by trial and error. We just hope we’ve given them a strong enough base that they can go out there and be all right. I think that’s probably what every parent wants.”