Dueling Doubles : Thousand Oaks High’s Nick, Paul Foster Gaining Stature as Dynamic Players Whether They’re Battling Each Other or the Opposition

Smack in the middle of the regular season, Nick and Paul Foster, Thousand Oaks High’s identical twin towers of inside power, have agreed to play an exhibition game at a neighborhood park.

One-on-one. A full-dress display of their talents. A 6-foot-7 human stiletto crossing swords with his 6-8 twin.

One game. First to 11, a basket counts one point. Then a postgame discussion over lunch.

The senior forwards constantly play one-on-one in front of their house. But the prospect of playing each other in front of a reporter and photographer makes them uneasy.

The humble pair have been the reluctant centers of attention this season because of their appearance, as well as their athletic prowess. As if just being a twin doesn’t create enough unwanted attention.

“It’s annoying at times,” Paul says, noting one of the disadvantages of being a twin. “I just don’t like being called ‘Nick.’ You don’t feel like yourself anymore.”

Says Nick, the taller of the two: “We just want to play the game and whatever happens, happens.”

The Fosters are all business while playing with the team. In fact, they have been simply overpowering in tandem in what so far has been a remarkable season for Thousand Oaks.

The Lancers, ranked second in The Times’ area poll, have vanquished all but one of 21 opponents, losing only to top-ranked North Hollywood, 65-63, on a last-second shot in the championship of the Simi Valley tournament in December. They have blazed to an 11-0 Marmonte League record and a two-game lead entering tonight’s contest at Agoura.

They are warming gradually to the exposure, their father says.

“For the longest time, they wouldn’t even look at the paper to see what was written about their games,” Bill Foster says. “But then they started to read their names in print a little bit. They didn’t say anything, but I think they liked it.

“They were looking forward to this.”

The contest begins, and almost immediately goes back and forth. Paul moves ahead, 2-1. Then Nick leads, 3-2. The score is tied, 5-5.

Bill Foster, who stands 6-foot-5, chose track over basketball at Birmingham High, where he graduated in 1969. The boys’ mother, Lucy Foster, is 5-10. She played on the girls’ basketball team at Reseda High before graduating in 1971.

However, both say they have done their best not to pit the twins against each other in athletic competition. Nor did they dress them in identical clothes. Somehow, the rivalry just flourished.

“They’ve never been annoyed at being twins,” Lucy Foster says. “They would just go out in the back yard and kick soccer balls to each other. They have a healthy, competitive nature. They push each other to excel.”

That becomes apparent as the game wears on. Play moves closer to the basket. Scores come less frequently and with more difficulty. Intensity grows.

Leading, 10-9, Nick makes a short jump shot and declares victory. But Paul wants to extend the game to 15. Nick does not protest.

“We’re usually in the house when they’re playing, but we can hear when it’s getting intense,” Bill Foster says. “They start to have differences of opinion on whether or not it was a foul. Sometimes I wonder what the neighbors think.”

Soon, Paul leads, 14-13, after making a jump shot from the top of the key. Moments later, Nick banks in a shot from almost the identical spot. The score is tied again.

Paul settles the issue with two jump shots, the second from beyond the free-throw line to win, 16-14. Have to win by two in one-on-one.

“It was really close,” Paul says between breaths. “We get more competitive when it’s a tight game.”

Is Paul the better player?

“No,” Nick insists with a smile. “He got lucky.”

*

Back and forth.

They chase up and down the basketball court, identical twins dressed in identical green-and-white uniforms, making, at times, identical plays. To most opponents, they are simply The Fosters. Telling them apart can be difficult.

“Sometimes, one will do something you might have scouted the other for,” said Ira Sollod, coach of league rival Royal. “It makes it tough as far as scouting goes.”

Others don’t bother making distinctions. “You figure there’d be some way to distinguish them, but they’re both good,” Westlake Coach Gary Grayson said. “We tell our guys, ‘If the guy looks like a Foster, stop him.’ ”

Opponents have all but conceded the league title to the Lancers, league champions in each of the past two seasons. Some have conceded a bit more.

Said Grayson: “Even Brad Schwan (Westlake’s center) said to me after a game, ‘That’s the best team I’ve ever seen in my life.’ ”

Watching the Lancers means seeing double. A basket by Paul. A rebound by Nick. During a game against Camarillo, both blocked the same shot, one deflecting the ball in the direction of the other, who swatted it out of bounds.

Paul is the team’s leading scorer, averaging 16.3 points a game. Nick is the leading rebounder, averaging 9.5. Paul is averaging 8.2 rebounds, Nick 13.1 points.

Undoubtedly, their numbers would be more impressive if not for the presence of the other.

“I told Paul I wanted him to try to get more rebounds,” Lancer Coach Ed Chevalier said. “He said, ‘Nick keeps taking them.’ ”

Back and forth. It has been that way since Feb. 21, 1975, the day Bill and Lucy Foster became the parents of what then was the heaviest set of twins born at Kaiser Permanente Medical Center in Panorama City.

Paul Rene (8 pounds 10 ounces) was born two minutes before Nicolas Richard. Nick (9 pounds 11 ounces) outweighed Paul and measured an inch longer.

Almost immediately, Paul grew more rapidly than Nick, gaining an advantage of 30 pounds and two inches by the time they reached adolescence. Last season, their first on the varsity, Paul was a starter, averaging 7.9 points, and Nick averaged five as a reserve.

They’re still growing. Within the last year, Nick surpassed Paul and was listed on this season’s roster at 6-7. Paul is listed at 6-6. Bill Foster recently measured them in the family kitchen: Nick is 6-8, Paul 6-7 1/4. Nick weighs 200 pounds, Paul 205.

“For a long time, Paul was a step ahead of Nick,” Bill Foster said. “He was bigger growing up and he just seemed to mature sooner. But Nick has just passed him by.

“They’ve always enjoyed a healthy competition. Paul was the first to be able to slam dunk and that inspired Nick.”

As twins, they have shared everything at one time or another--birthdays, bunk beds, bathrooms. Today, they share a blue Nissan and take turns driving the other to school. “It’s whoever grabs the keys first,” Nick said.

Nothing, it seems, do they share more passionately than one-on-one. Every day after school, they pull into the driveway, put off homework and pull out a basketball, often dribbling until dark.

Four years ago, their father erected a backboard and rim at the curb outside the family’s home, which lies tucked away in the hills at the end of a cul-de-sac.

“They come home and go right to it,” Bill Foster said. “They’re still out there playing until I don’t know how they can see anymore. They start getting hit in the face with the ball and then they have to come in.”

One-on-one. Perfect for twins who enjoy nothing more than testing their mettle against each other. Back and forth and then some.

“There’s always somebody to play basketball with,” Nick said, noting one of the advantages of being a twin. “It’s like having one long sleep-over with a friend. But he’s your brother.”

Said Paul: “We’ve always been competitive and it has helped us to improve. We’re always trying to do better than each other.”

*

Lucy Foster is giving a tour of her sons’ upstairs bedrooms, which are joined by a common bathroom and study. She talks about the differences in her sons’ personalities.

Nick is more talkative, quicker to answer a question directed at both, quicker to flash a smile. He excels at math and aspires to be an accountant. Paul is more introspective and artistic. He, too, excels at math and aspires to be an engineer. But he also has a flair for drawing.

“Nick is more aggressive, and Paul enjoys his quiet times,” Lucy Foster says. “I think, sometimes, Paul’s quietness is mistaken for aloofness. But he isn’t that way. He’s especially humble.”

Their bedrooms aid in distinction. Nick sleeps on a water bed, and the decor is exclusively black and white--right down to the oversized poster of Michael Jordan. He keeps things immaculate by moving extra clothes into Paul’s closet.

Paul sleeps on a traditional mattress with a wooden headboard with posts. His room is more colorful throughout, including his poster of Jordan.

“They had bunk beds for so long,” their mother says. “We just got rid of them.”

The conversation flows from bunk beds to dormitories. In a matter of months, Paul and Nick might also be separating.

Some colleges, not many, have shown interest in Paul and Nick. Letters have come from Seattle Pacific, Westmont College, Southern California College and Cal State Northridge, which appears to be more interested in Paul than Nick. They also are considering the Air Force Academy.

Neither Nick nor Paul insists on going to college on the buddy system. Both have agreed to wait until the end of the season before exploring the future. However, the subject is beginning to creep into family conversations. “I don’t care if we go together or apart,” Paul says. “I’d probably rather go together.”

So would Nick. “But if we happen to get different offers and it’s better for us to separate, then we will,” he says.

Even if it means no more one-on-one?

“I think the good might outweigh the bad,” Bill Foster says. “Now they’re young men. Eventually, they’ll marry and go off in (separate) directions. I think it will be good for them to become more independent.”

Lucy Foster agrees. “I think when they were young, we really didn’t want one of them to excel,” she says. “Now that they’re older, I think, maybe, they need a separation.”

She is standing in Paul’s room near the upstairs window that overlooks the driveway. And the basket. As she speaks, the Nissan pulls into the driveway and the twins emerge with a basketball.

Back and forth.

“It might round them out a little bit more,” she says. “They can’t be together forever.”