Chaminade is a pretty place, featuring buildings with white stucco facades and red-tile roofs. It is situated on a bluff overlooking Waikiki and Diamond Head. Yet, in many ways, Chaminade is a second-class citizen on its own campus. "When it comes to financial support, the high school gets most of the consideration from the order," says one longtime faculty member. " St. Louis High even gets first call on dates in McCabe Gym," says a booster. One good example of the poor standing of Chaminade's sports program is the athletic department's building. Popularly known as The Shack, it's hidden in back of the dorms at the most remote corner of the school grounds.
Lopes, who now makes $10,000 for coaching, also has a full-time job as a high school guidance counselor. Including the Swords' 14-2 season record at week's end—they won all four games on a California road trip after beating the Cavaliers—Lopes has a career mark of 119-36. He is known as a stern taskmaster and a teacher of intense defense. This doesn't mean, however, that his team always listens when he yells. At one point late in the Virginia game, Lopes was on his feet screaming for a delay. Dunham, giving him a look of disdain, turned and fired up a 22-footer. Swish.
The question remains, "How'd they do it?" It's true Chaminade contested every pass, dived for every loose ball, had at least three players leap for every rebound, played tight man-to-man defense and shot the lights out from the perimeter. But any explanation must go beyond the statistical to the spiritual. From now on, wherever athletes must face an impossible task, the cry will go out, "Remember Chaminade!" Virginia will.