"Bet I Go D-1!": Da Teacher Honors Crane's Tony Allen and His Jersey Retirement
- joeymcd23
- Mar 1
- 6 min read
Updated: Mar 4
By Joey McDermott AKA Da Teacher
It was the summer of 2004 and I was out with friends. A late night lounge on Milwaukee Avenue in Bucktown, the Tini Martini. The lounge was two storefronts wide, one side had a long wooden bar with booths across from it and the other side a dance floor with a DJ. I was only 31 at the time, so 2:00 am on a Friday was no big deal.
“You’re the one who wanted to come here.”
“I know man, one more drink - I’m buying.”
“That’s what you said an hour ago, this ain’t my scene,” Danny hated hip-hop, he was strictly house, free style and salsa. “This is the last one, for real bro.”
I leaned sideways on the bar talking to Danny. The bar had a 4:00 am license, so it was getting crowded as the 2:00 am bars were closing. Danny wanted to leave, but I was getting my second wind.
“I got you man,” as I said that, I noticed him peeking over my shoulder.
I ordered my two drinks, but sensed somebody behind me. I felt them muscling into a space that was two small, trying to elbow up to the bar and place their order. I slowly turned to see who invaded my personal space.
It was a younger black man, tall and wearing a baggy white T. It was fresh-n-clean, and he carried himself with confidence. I looked at him and he stepped back. Once he backed away I recognized him.
“Tony?”
“Mr. McDermott!” He exclaimed loudly with excitement. “I thought that was you, but I can't believe you’d be out at a place like this.”
“Yeah man, this old man still kicks it,” and we embraced with a handshake and hug. “First, congrats on getting drafted by the Celtics.” Tony was the last pick of the first round a few weeks back.
“Ah man, it’s a dream to be in the League Mr. McDermott - you always believed in me.”
“That’s great Tony, I’m happy for you - Hey man I heard you got your degree, congrats man. I’m proud of you.”
“You know what? Besides my mama, you’re the first person to tell me that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everybody else is like, man you goin’ to the League, you made it! But nobody else said anything about my degree.”
“You did it! And considering how you started high school, that’s great.”
“I want to be like you, I want to be a teacher.”
We chatted a few more seconds, but Danny wanted to leave and I said goodbye to Tony. Little did we know he’d go on to be one of the NBA’s greatest defensive players, play in the NBA for 14 years, win an NBA championship and get his jersey retired by the Memphis Grizzlies (later this month on March 15th)
Teaching the "Demotes"
Tony’s academic journey was truly remarkable. I met him during his third year of high school. He had spent the past two years barely attending classes at Julian HS and was new to Crane. 1998 was my first year teaching, and he was in my 8th period US History class, the last period of the day. Many students cut the last period and snuck out one of the 16 exit points in our cavernous turn of the century school.
The class was all “demotes,” a negative moniker that we no longer use in education circles. Basically it meant a third year student who did not have enough credits to be a junior. In this class, all the students were taking sophomore US History, for their second time. The class had 38 students on the roster, but my classroom had only 30 desks - so I sought assistance from the school’s programmer.
She was an older white woman in her 60’s with bleach blonde hair. She’d been at Crane her entire career and epitomized the grizzled CPS veteran teacher. She spoke with a nasal Chicago accent, and was often short with people who asked for help. The program office was the place where the school’s five older white teachers congregated, so it earned the nickname the “white house” by the majority black staff.
“I know I’m new, but what happens if I don’t have enough desks?”
“Look honey, you ain't dealing with rocket scientists. Trust me, give it a few days and then let me know if you run short of any desks.”
She was correct, I always had enough desks. On a daily basis there were at least 10-15 students absent. In all her years of experience, she knew better. If you created a class of all low performing students, with a history of failing grades, that they would not show up to class.
The class was one of the most challenging of my career. There were only two female students and the male energy was often aggressive or overly playful. Each day there were 5 students who were there for only one day per week, and they were the most disruptive. They had no clue what was going on and were unmotivated.
I ended the year with 34 (of 38) students earning an F - and nobody even asked me about this. It was like everyone knew, I did all I could. The four that passed were the two girls and two boys who transferred to the school to play basketball. Tony was one of them and he barely passed, he had to hustle at the end of the semester to get his grade up. So when I say, "Considering how you started your academic career..," this is what I mean.
The odds were stacked against Tony. He was a an above average student in a low achieving class. The rest of his peers started the class struggling and continued to struggle. Tony’s was better than his classmates, but I doubted he could qualify to play D-1 basketball, not with D’s in History.
Tony got his HS eligibility to play second semester and had a good junior season for a loaded team of future D-1 players. Will Bynum, Jabbar Battle and Maurice Bush - the killer B’s led the team in the Public League’s legendary red west conference.
Going to Union Park
By June, once the weather warmed, I accepted a challenge to walk to Union Park and play on the blacktop. I was 25 years old, in good shape and had “grown man strength” to over power most high school boys.
We walked east on Jackson and came across Tony hanging out with a friend. Tony noticed the basketball pinned between my arm and side.
“Hey McDermott, you can’t hoop.”
“I’m going to Union Park right now, let’s see!”
“You ain’t goin’ to Union! They gonna bust yo…” and we both started to laugh.
“Well maybe I need you to escort me.”
We played two full-court games together, and I did pretty well. Every time I got a rebound Tony yelled, “That’s Big Ten! That’s Big Ten!” That meant my style was rugged, the style common in college’s Big Ten conference. It hyped me up each time he chanted it, Tony’s energy and enthusiasm rubbed off on others.
At one point I had to separate Tony from another kid at the park, who was taunting him, “You ain’t shit, you garbage.”
Tony told him over and over, “Bet I go D-1! Bet I go D-1!” It was just like when he was in the NBA, locking up Klay Thompson and the Warriors in the playoffs and chanted, "First team all defense! First team all defense!" For someone who played only half a varsity season, and was maybe the 3rd or 4th best player on that team, it was quite a proclamation.
After the game Tony told me, “I’m not gonna lie McDermott, you surprised me. You can hoop.”
“Thanks Tony, but you might want to think about that D-1 comment.”
“Ah man, you don’t believe in me?”
“I do Tony, but you can’t go D-1 if you get D’s in History class. You need to step it up.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I’m gonna do better.” And better he did, all the way to a bachelor's degree from Oklahoma State University.
Just like a proud parent, teachers love when 0ur students succeed. Tony, congrats on your jersey retirement from the Grizzlies. You are evidence - it’s not where you start that determines where you finish. Ask Kobe, KD or Steph - you are the best defender they’ve played against. Keep telling your story. Keep making all of us that nurtured your growth proud of the man you’ve become. Grind on TA!
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