He’d rather play Half Life 2 and Zelda:
Twilight Princess than watch a random
game on NBA League Pass. (Allen has
yet to set up his free account, but it’s
on his to-do list.)
“When he leaves here, he probably
plays video games 80 percent of the
time,” Dudley says. “He still has that
college mentality. That will change, but
why do you want that to change right
now? Let him live in the moment. Let him
have a good time. Let him play basketball
and have fun.”
Allen grasps and accepts who he is in
a way that’s both refreshing and impres-
sive, a truth that was never more clear
than after the Rising Stars Challenge
at All-Star Weekend, when he tucked
his lanky frame behind a small round
table for a makeshift post-game press
conference. For the next few minutes
Allen politely batted down random ques-
tions, including an unexpected inquiry
that wondered which hip-hop song he’d
choose as his own entrance music before
each game, if that sort of thing was ever
up to him.
“Darude’s “Sandstorm” always gets
me,” Allen, who doesn’t like hip-hop,
says. “You’re gonna laugh, but there’s
something about that song that gets
me going.” Almost every answer in the
session was punctuated by a nervous
chuckle: You probably weren’t expecting
me to say that but I don’t feel the need to
explain why I said it.
There’s a through line from this exact
moment to Allen’s pre-draft interview
process, when teams likened his low
intensity to questions about his desire.
“In my eyes, I’ve always loved basketball.
I just went about showing it differently
from everybody else,” he says.
At the time, he thought about shifting
his answers to appease NBA front offices,
but decided it’d be too stressful to manu-
facture and then maintain an inauthentic
facade for the rest of his career. “If I didn’t
love basketball, they’d be able to tell that
I didn’t love basketball,” he says. “So I
stuck to what I wanted to say.”
There are instances where Allen’s
reticence will clash with his professional
curiosity. He wants to know how to shoot
like Joe Harris—his teammate and newly
crowned Three-Point Contest champi-
on—but never asks him about mechanics
or form. Same goes with D’Angelo Rus-
sell’s vision. Allen wants to understand
how his most talented teammate makesquick decisions with the ball but never
raises it in conversation.
“When I roll and I get the ball, I can’t
always score,” Allen says. “So I have to
make the decision to pass it. I’m interest-
ed to see how [Russell] does that. I never
really talk to him about it. I kinda don’t
want to steal his style, but I’m gonna
try to take pieces from him.” (Russell’s
response when asked about this: “He’s
definitely a shy dude, just in general. But I
think [playmaking] will come naturally as
the game slows down for him.”)
Back behind that small round table at
All-Star Weekend, Allen is asked about
one specific play that occurred midway
through the third quarter, when Phila-
delphia 76ers phenom Ben Simmons
attempted a dunk that wasn’t too far
removed from what LeBron tried a week
before Christmas. Once again, Allen
denied an easy two points. But before he
could comment on the decision to play
defense in a defense-optional exhibition,
Rodions Kurucs, Allen’s Brooklyn team-
mate, interrupted with insight that was at
once obvious and necessary.
“He never hesitates,” the rookie said,
eyes wide, still bordering on disbelief. “He
always goes for everything!” S