March 15, 2010, 6:00AM
Arkansas Tech senior Renard Allen Jr. arrives at his last regular-season home game Feb. 27 with his wife, Ireyonia, and their children, Renard, left, and Kyla, right, in Russellville, Ark.
Allen met a young man named Mark Downey in one of those leagues. And that changed his life.
Downey, a West Virginia native and basketball letterman at Charleston University from 1990 to 1995, came to New Orleans after landing an assistant coaching job under former UNO basketball coach Monte Towe in 2001. During his free time, he spent up to four nights a week playing in leagues at places such as Crescent City Baptist School and the Treme Community Center.
One of the first teams Downey played on in Treme was undefeated as the playoffs neared. Still, Downey's teammates didn't want to risk losing, so they signed up a ringer: Renard Allen, who threw down at least a half-dozen dunks each of his first few games.
"He was a living highlight reel," Downey, six years older than Allen, said.
The 6-foot-1 newcomer ran faster, jumped higher and scored more than every other player there, Downey said. The team won the championship easily.
Allen and Downey played with and against each other for years, and Downey grew to admire Allen. Allen never flaked on a game, unlike many recreational players. "If he even got the message, we knew he was coming," Downey said. "Renard was reliable," despite his unpredictable work schedules.
Arkansas Tech Coach Mark Downey, left, and Renard Allen Jr. embrace Allen's last regular-season home game
Downey also liked that Allen turned games into family outings. He brought his wife, Ireyonia, and their daughter and son most nights, even when she was late in her pregnancy with the boy.
In one 2003 league championship game, Downey torched his opponents for 27 points. Only one player outscored him: Allen, who tallied 34 points as an opponent. He coolly sank four free throws in the final 30 seconds to help his team win 66-59.
Stunned, Downey approached Allen and asked: "Whatever happened? How did your career end?"
Allen told him about the year at the University of New Orleans. How he played little. How he partied a lot. How an ex-girlfriend stabbed him. How he quit the team and dropped out of school.
When Allen was done, Downey said, "Renard, you're still eligible to play college basketball in (NCAA) Division II. I can introduce you to some coaches."
He told Allen about a rule that allows athletes to finish their eligibility no matter how much time off they took from school. Allen still had his sophomore, junior and senior years of eligibility.
Allen's heart jumped. He always felt that his competitive playing days were not supposed to end the way they did at UNO.
He asked his buddy Mark to keep in touch about the possibility.
Busy lives
But life got busy for Downey and Allen, and they barely spoke to each other for a few years.
Downey coordinated UNO basketball's recruiting and travel plans. He helped the Privateers craft game plans and directed Towe's basketball camp. He portrayed a 1960s University of Kentucky basketball player in "Glory Road," a 2005 film shot in the New Orleans area.
Downey stayed with UNO through Katrina but left his position when Towe resigned in 2006. That year, Downey landed the head coaching job at Arkansas Tech University, a Division II program languishing in the cellar of the Gulf South Conference.
Allen, meanwhile, took a job gutting flood-damaged homes for his father's company. He moved his family to Atlanta for a few months after Hurricane Katrina and commuted back and forth to New Orleans.
He eventually brought his family back to New Orleans and tried yet another career: driving trucks and heavy equipment for the Louisiana Department of Transportation and Development.
Renard Allen Jr.'s mother, Regina Gorden, right, and sister Bianca Barnes, left, were able to make it to Russellville, Ark., for his last regular-season home game Feb. 27.
The DOTD offered Allen a steady salary and benefits for his entire family.
"I was going to retire from that job," Allen said.
But one August day in 2006, Allen grabbed his cell phone and checked his voice mail.
"Hey, Renard, it's Mark," Downey's voice said in one message. "I remember us talking about you wanting to go back to school. Well, I got a coaching job in Arkansas. It's a nice place. You'd be eligible to play right away. If you're interested, give me a ring."
Allen had prayed for such a phone call for years. But there was no way he could accept Downey's offer just then.
His two children would start school in days. His wife, Ireyonia, would not be able to transfer her job as an assistant manager at a Home Depot to a store in Arkansas by the time the semester started. He was daunted by the thought of scrambling to find a school for the kids and a house near wherever in Arkansas it was that Downey worked.
Disappointed, Allen phoned his buddy back.
"Mark, I'd love to, but it's too soon," he said. "If you still have the job next year and you need me, I'm there."
A scholarship
Downey's first year went poorly. He led Tech to a 6-21 record and just one win in 14 conference games.
He needed to recruit about a dozen players for his second season. He decided he needed reliable men who had "matured in the real world." He needed players like Allen.
Downey phoned Allen again with a scholarship offer in early 2007. When Allen answered, Downey rattled off a description of life in Russellville, Ark.
Russellville was in a dry county -- the nearest liquor store was 20 miles away. Hangouts closed early on weekends. University officials were drafting a policy to ban cigarettes and other tobacco products on campus.
Allen, the teenage prep basketball star who grew up in a bustling metro area, might have scoffed at Russellville. Allen, the husband and father of two, did not.
The grown-up Allen wanted to take his kids away from "the Dark Side," a rundown River Ridge neighborhood where many young men he grew up with sold drugs and got either jailed or shot. He wanted to move them far away from the Kenner nightclub where someone had murdered an uncle.
He wanted to complete an undergraduate degree and play competitive basketball again.
Allen didn't even consult his wife before he made his decision: at 29, he was headed to college a second time.
"Mark, I'm going," he said. "I'm taking the scholarship."
Downey imposed just one demand: "Renard, you'll have to start calling me 'Coach.'"
'Go, go, go'
Ireyonia imagined that moving her children to Russellville, more than 500 miles away from any help their grandparents and her friends could offer, would be difficult. She was right.
Ireyonia transferred her Home Depot job to a store in Conway, Ark., nearly 50 miles from the house she and her husband settled in near Arkansas Tech's campus. She had to leave for work at 4 a.m. each morning.
Renard, meanwhile, walked their children to the bus stop each morning. He attended his classes -- about five each semester -- and then raced to the bus stop to meet his kids. His daughter Kayla, born in 2000, spent many afternoons at a local boys and girls club. But his son Renard III, born in 2002, was too young to enroll, so he had to drive with his dad to Tech's practices at Tucker Coliseum.
Picking up his son made Allen late for training and workouts. "Thankfully, Coach was very lenient about that," Allen said, and Downey simply briefed him on whatever he missed.
Renard III bounced basketballs and galloped along the sidelines during his dad's practices. Dad, meanwhile, completed drills with teammates a decade younger than him. All except one of the assistant coaches who instructed Allen were younger than him, too.
Ireyonia would head straight to Tucker Coliseum from Conway and drive the kids home. Dad would meet them for dinner, and he plowed through his homework while they plowed through theirs. Some nights and Saturdays, the children played youth sports. Ireyonia coached some of their basketball teams. The kids went to their father's home games and traveled to Alabama, Florida, Georgia and Mississippi for several of his away games.
On Sundays, the family attended church and went out for meals. At the house, they played video games or watched movies until, spent from the hectic week, they dozed off on the living room chairs and sofas.
"Renard and I do not have time alone with each other," Ireyonia said, chuckling as she recently sat in the stands of Tucker Coliseum, the 3,500-seat circular arena where Tech plays home games. "It's always, 'Go, go, go.'"
Most Valuable Player
Renard Allen had at last found a place where he could excel.
He earned a spot on the dean's list as he strove toward a degree in emergency management.
In his first season, he started 24 games at point guard and averaged 26 minutes, numbers that were far better than those he produced 10 years earlier at UNO. He scored 8 points a game, employed his quickness to steal the ball 57 times and was his team's leading rebounder eight times. He hauled in 13 boards in one game, the highest single-game output for his team that season, remarkable for a short player his age.
The gold-and-green-clad Arkansas Tech Wonder Boys posted an 18-11 record and won eight of 14 conference games.
Heading into his second year, Allen turned 30 and reached an age where many athletes start to decline. But he helped lift the Wonder Boys to their best season in school history.
He again averaged 8 points a game as Tech won 19 of its 27 regular-season contests. He reeled off 19 points in a loss to the University of North Alabama, his best performance, outside of the rec leagues, since his senior year at John Curtis Christian School in 1996. He led his team in rebounding three times, twice amassing a dozen boards, tying the team's high that year.
Tech took its conference tournament quarterfinal 82-66 against North Alabama and its semifinal 73-66 against Harding University. In the final, Valdosta State's defense focused on shutting down the Wonder Boys' top scorers. They dared Allen to shoot, betting he wasn't up to the task.
That was a mistake. Allen buried 10 field goals and five free throws for a game-best 25 points. Tech topped Valdosta 73-66.
The Gulf South commissioner handed Downey his school's first-ever conference championship trophy at midcourt afterward. Media representatives and tournament officials picked the tournament's most valuable player.
"Renard Allen, Arkansas Tech," the commissioner announced.
Ireyonia shrieked in the arena's stands. Her husband grinned, feeling far in time and place from "the Dark Side" and the parking lot where his ex stabbed him.
He quietly accepted his certificate. He climbed a ladder, cut down the nets and took them home.
'Call me Mark again'
Allen continued to flower during his senior year. Downey coached Arkansas Tech and a 31-year-old Allen to a 29-1 record through March 12, a second conference-tournament championship and the school's first-ever No. 1 ranking in Division II.
Allen posted the best numbers of his career, averaging 11 points a game, leading his team in points in nine contests and racking up a career-best 28 points in an overtime win against Southern Arkansas University on Feb. 4. Conference officials awarded him his first-ever player of the week award.
Some time after the season, university officials will award Allen a degree in emergency management, more than 14 strange years after his first college semester.
On Feb. 27, Allen attended Renard III's youth league basketball game. Then, he raced to Tucker Coliseum and prepared to play his last ever regular-season contest at home.
He taped his right wrist in front of his locker. In the back of it hung a typed list of his goals: Repeat as conference champs; be a better father; motivate my teammates to be the best they can be; return to the dean's list.
To his left was 6-foot-5 junior teammate Jeremy Dunbar, who sports a soul patch and was born when Allen was 10. To his right was 6-foot-5 junior James Causey, a bearded 23-year-old who is one of the team's oldest members.
Their facial hair makes them appear older than Allen. But they said they both admire him.
"To do what he does in life and basketball is amazing," Dunbar said. "His work ethic is unbelievable."
Causey said, "We tease him and call him 'old man.' ... But nothing gets to him."
Minutes before the game tipped off, officials paraded the seniors onto the court.
Parents flanked most of them. Allen, however, wrapped his left arm around Kayla while Ireyonia and Renard III walked on his right. The children wore matching Tech-colored green-and-yellow shirts. The mother wore a white jacket, a green blouse, jeans and high heels. The father wore a yellow headband and a warm-up suit.
They flashed wide smiles when the game's announcer called for them to step on the floor. About 2,000 people applauded, and many of them whooped when the announcer reminded them about Allen's 2009 MVP performance.
Downey, clad in a suit and tie, greeted the family at midcourt. He handed the wife a bouquet and the husband a framed poster-sized photo of himself, dribbling a ball.
Allen handed the poster to his wife. He shook Downey's hand and hugged him tightly.
"Thank you, Coach," Allen said.
Downey smiled. He whispered in Allen's ear, "Hey, when all this is over, you can call me 'Mark' again."
