Jerome Allen's last stand

It’s just a few minutes until tip-off as Jerome Allen strolls out of the locker room and onto the Palestra floor for Penn basketball’s penultimate game of the season. The coach sports something between a smile and a grimace, fitting for the matchup with Cornell, two bottom-feeders in the Ivy League looking to finish their 2014-15 seasons on a high note.

Everything is in place. The Penn Band has just finished playing the school fight song. Both squads mechanically go through layup lines while a few thousand fans slowly fill in small patches of the Palestra.

The celebrated arena has seen everything, from the first games of the NCAA Tournament to numerous Ivy championships. It has hosted past stars like Wilt Chamberlain and present ones like LeBron James.

This is home to Allen, a 42-year-old former player who helped put three of the banners in the rafters while starring for the Quakers and wearing No. 53, a number no one has used since. He has traded in his jersey tonight for a skinny Italian blue suit, white shirt, red and blue tie and black shoes, topped off with a white pocket square and a pair of glasses.

He has a distinct smile on his face while he shakes hands with the referees and grins widely while talking with assistant coach Ira Bowman. His players begin jogging to the bench, and Allen high fives each of his pupils, just as he does before every game.

But this isn’t like every game. Far from it.

Five hours before, news broke that Allen would be out as coach after the season. No longer would he stroll the sidelines for the Red and Blue. Someone else would coach his players, and someone else would call the Palestra their home.

The news caught many off guard, although it wasn’t a complete surprise. After all, not many coaches can afford to post nearly 20 losses per season and walk away unscathed. Especially at Penn.

Allen himself played a part in the growing history of the program as the star guard for the Quakers in the mid-1990s. After a freshman year in which Penn lost both games to Princeton, Allen led the Red and Blue during an unstoppable three-year run in which they didn’t lose a single conference game, not even to the Tigers. He captained the 1993-94 team that remains the most recent in squad in program history to win an NCAA Tournament game.

Now, Penn isn’t fighting Princeton for Ivy titles or NCAA Tournament victories: It’s fighting for relevance. On this Saturday night, the fight seems particularly futile, with a young Penn squad featuring a lame-duck head coach on its way to last place.

But for Allen, this is his final stand. His last chance to make an impression before he is unceremoniously cast out into the coaching world. One final chance to win.

***

After he stands with his team for the national anthem, the ill-fated head coach begins his final lesson before tip-off. His five starters — four of whom come from a rapidly improving freshman class — sit attentively on the bench with Allen drawing out plays in front of him.

There is no doubt where each player’s focus is at the moment: It’s on Allen. The team was rocked to its core when the news broke, and each stands in unwavering support around their leader. The team hangs on his every word.

Once the players get settled into the hurried pace of this game, Allen neatly takes a seat on the bench. While he gets up once to speak with his three guards, he spends most of the opening act of this game nestled between his assistant coaches on the bench. Each of his three assistants — Nat Graham, Mike Lintulahti and Bowman — sit focused and ready, desperate to get a win for their friend and fellow coach.

“I’ll forever be indebted and appreciative because of his belief in me and giving me an opportunity to follow my dreams and opening a door to me that I’ve been trying to access for a long time,” Lintulahti said a few weeks before the season ended. “There’s that sense of gratitude, and some of that’s tied to professional stuff, but first and foremost, we’re friends and he’s as humble and committed a friend as anybody I’ve ever come across.”

While his final 65-104 record as a head coach didn’t sit well with fans, Allen had certainly won the hearts of his fellow coaches and Penn alumni, along with his players. Even after his tenure ended, there was an outpouring of support from all corners.

"[Allen] is somebody that I really grew up with,” Miles Jackson-Cartwright, a guard under Allen, said hours before tip-off. “Even when we got in trouble my junior year, [he] stuck with me. That meant the world to me. He’s not old enough to be a father figure to me, but he was like my older brother. We were close on the court. We were very close off the court. I felt like we got even closer when I left.

“It’s a sad day, man.”

***

Flash to the second half, and Allen is locked in place, standing firmly in front of his seat, not listening to the boisterous cheers of the 2,000 fans in attendance. You wouldn’t know it from his stoic face, but this night belongs to the Quakers.

Sam Jones drains his third and final three of the game to put Penn up 20 points, its largest lead in an Ivy game all year. While Allen calmly talks to the defense, the entire crowd and bench are in a frenzy all around him. The Palestra sounds like Penn is on the verge of an Ivy League championship.

And this year, it’s the closest the Red and Blue will get to the Ancient Eight crown. Allen’s steady stature fails to truly portray his emotions in the moment, but his attire accentuates it. Asked three days earlier what choices he’d make for a championship game, Allen — who was aware at the time he was on his way out — knew exactly what he’d wear.

“If I have the opportunity to have any say-so in it — because my wife would probably try to take over,” he said, “I’d probably wear a blue suit, white shirt, red and blue tie.”

Just 10 days after this game against Cornell, Athletic Director Grace Calhoun takes center stage at the Palestra, announcing Allen’s replacement — former Penn assistant Steve Donahue – only a week after the Quakers’ final game.

"[The more I] had a chance to talk to people, the more it just became so obvious that no one could check all the boxes and presented the profile and the proven track record that Steve Donahue does,” Calhoun said at the introductory press conference.

The track record Donahue displayed was one Allen had not put together when he was first hired. The former Penn standout had accumulated just seven games as a volunteer assistant coach before he was thrust into the interim head coaching role after Glen Miller’s firing during the middle of the 2009-10 season.

After a tumultuous close to the season, Allen took over as full-time head coach.

The Quakers improved in each of his first two full seasons, challenging for the Ivy title in 2011-12 behind senior guard Zack Rosen. But after Rosen graduated, Allen’s team put together the worst three-year stretch in terms of wins and losses the program had ever seen.

But this season, there were finally glimmers of hope. Jones’ three-pointers had become regular occurrences that opposing squads couldn’t shut down. Fellow freshman Antonio Woods proved himself as point guard, accumulating 11 assists against Cornell in this solemn 79-72 victory.

“Of course it’s been tough, especially that Saturday for Cornell,” sophomore guard Matt Howard said after Donahue’s hiring. “That was a tough game to play with the news right before it, but we wanted to play our hearts out and get the win for him, especially that night.”

Young players like Howard and the freshmen — firmly on display throughout the Cornell win victory and all conference season — made fans wonder if a bright future was firmly on the horizon for the Quakers.

***

Three days later, Allen walks onto the court for the final time, wearing his old varsity sweater, proudly displaying a large Penn ‘P’ in the center. While it’s not his championship attire, his sweater only comes out for special occasions, worn only for his first few matchups with Princeton — and this last one.

But that isn’t the only throwback on the court during warmups.

His players, each of whom he recruited, each of whom he had a major hand in developing, rep his patented No. 53 on their backs, sporting T-shirts in a singular sign of support for their coach.

At the time, Allen seems to pay no mind to the gesture

“I was pissed,” Allen said, referring back to the T-shirt display. “I guess I shouldn’t say that. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. But, you know, I try to do everything so it’s not about me. I really appreciate the gesture. And it got to me.”

After the seniors are recognized at center court — this is their last game, too — the starting lineups are presented, ending with the announcement of Allen.

While Allen’s inclusion at the conclusion of starting lineups is a regular occurrence, the long ovation from a loud but small crowd of 2,334 fans. As the ovation continues, Allen enters the huddle, trying to lead his team to another emotional victory.

***

A couple hours later, there would be no final win for Allen. Unfortunately for the outgoing coach, this matchup with Princeton would simply be another 20+ point loss strewn into a pile of resounding defeats.

After going through the handshake line — exchanging customary pleasantries with the fourth team to sweep the Quakers in 2014-15 — Allen quickly breaks for the locker room, becoming the first member of his squad to exit the court, trailed by players, coaches and photographers.

Allen can’t escape the spotlight. Not tonight.

Next up: One final press conference.

Three nights earlier after Cornell, Penn’s head coach had refused to answer questions about his impending resignation. Now he seems comfortable in front of the Penn backdrop, opening up to a group of reporters in front of whom he’d always been guarded.

Each loss leaves Allen with something to be desired, unfinished business. And with something left on his plate, Allen shows no signs of stopping, regardless of his ouster.

“I’ll definitely watch the film and break it down, and I’ll pretend like I’m talking to the guys when I’m breaking it down, and taking notes and all that stuff,” Allen said at the presser. “But at the end of the day, it’s an opportunity for me to get better, and an opportunity for me to try to evaluate what I could have done, first and foremost, to make the result is different the next time.”

While the final score of his final game certainly didn’t reflect it, the Quakers appeared on their way up, making strides late in the season. Just a year after arguably the worst season in program history, the air around the team seemed different despite a similar win-loss record.

“I said we always challenge ourselves to leave it better than we found it,” Allen said. “And not to throw anybody under the bus, or name names, but I changed the culture. I changed the culture.

“I wish it would reflect the number of wins and losses that I want to see.”

After 15 minutes talking to the media, the man who coached his final game receives his curtain call, his swan song. Walking out of the press area, a sea of players, family, players’ family, former teammates and general well-wishers swarm Allen in the northeast corner of the Palestra with hugs and handshakes.

Allen shed his old varsity sweater in the locker room, and all that separates him from the on-rush of bodies is a crisp striped shirt. One by one, people go up to Allen, thanking him for his time as coach while wishing him well moving forward.

But he wants none of that, still focused on Penn when he responds, “I ain’t going nowhere.” He even jokes that he would try to suit up and play in the Ivy League one-game playoff at the Palestra four days later.

Despite the loss, despite the end of his job, there is a distinct smile on Allen’s face, contrasting the near grimace he wore before the game. Jamal Lewis, one of his players, is one of many people handing Allen a small token of appreciation, saying it’s from the team.

Two older women give the coach something a little bigger, a larger banner that reads “We <3 Jerome” that is signed by a number of his former players.

Even the banner can’t get Allen too emotional. He finally finds his way out of the small corner of the Palestra while the crowd slowly thins, moving towards the court to take photos with his seniors, each of whom just played their final game as well.

After over an hour of hugs, pleasantries and photos, Allen is finally ready to go. His wife heads up the ramp and toward the exit, carrying many of the things people handed him out of the Palestra. The scoreboard is turned off, giving an outside observer no idea of the result of this final game.

The Palestra’s seats are now empty. A new game has started, featuring young children who can barely hit the rim. The lights remain on in the arena, as Allen waves goodbye to the small crew still remaining, an eclectic group of Penn alums, former coaches and fans all looking at him while the sound of a basketball dribbles in the background.

And in an instant, Allen walks into the locker room one final time, closing the door to end this chapter of his basketball career.

Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The Daily Pennsylvanian.