This is Our House: Haiti's first Little League
White light invades the dark of Wilson Izidor's one room home – the morning sun reflecting off the tin siding of a neighbour’s house a metre away. A rooster crows. The slum is busy with life. Wilson is late. He climbs out of the bed he shares with his mother and three-year-old brother and dresses quickly, pulling on his favourite aqua-coloured pants, blue basketball jersey and green plaid button-up. He grabs a grey Tabarre Tigers T-shirt and pushes through the swinging doors.
Love and Stuff, Gordon
HE WALKED SLOWLY TO THE FRONT OF A ROOM PACKED WITH REPORTERS He walked slowly to the front of a room packed with re and sat on the last seat in the first row, facing the podium. He had hoped they wouldn’t notice, or, at least, that they wouldn’t react. This day, after all, was never supposed to be about him. But in the vaulted sanctuary of the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto, his presence is something akin to the manifestation of a deity. His white hair was cropped neatly and parted.
The Lost Boys
Bradd Arseneau didn’t ask for any of this. Not the personal note from Steve Nash, the breakfast with Chris Bosh or the chance to star in his own Gatorade commercial. He could have done without the headlines declaring him a hero, the letters that poured in from across the nation. He’s grateful of course. And, yes, he deserved every bit of it. But if Bradd could just close his eyes and wake up in a world where that van made it home, he’d give it all back. Right now, though, the skinny, mophaired, intensely, private 20-year-old is just looking for a bit of space so he can get his human sexuality paper on PMS done.
Home and Really Far Away: The Boys from Whale Cove
It began with a rink carved from a frozen sea with white sheets of ice stacked side-by-side, giving shape to the game. It was played in a bay that was filled with white belugas every summer and traversed by polar bears through the long winters. They cleared the surface with shovels and flooded it with the truck used to bring water to the handful of nearby houses.hey played almost every day, five to a side with no substitutions, in temperatures that regularly fell to -50 degrees Celsius—so cold that the plastic on a skate could be shattered by a slapshot.