Geoff Calkins

The Commercial Appeal

Tony Allen was doing OK when he started to talk about the news. He said he never cared about being in newspapers or magazines. He said he was just trying to play the right way, trying to win. He said he wanted to be known as one of the greatest defenders to ever play the game. Yes, he was doing OK.

But then Allen started talking about this city. And then his voice started to give way.

“I just thank Memphis for allowing me the opportunity . . . “

Long pause.

“For allowing me to play . . .”

Another long pause.

Then, realizing he might not be able to get out many more words, Allen turned his head and wrapped it up with, “That’s that.”

And that is that. Allen’s No. 9 will never be worn by another Memphis Grizzlies player. Someday, it will hang alongside Zach Randolph’s No. 50 — and almost certainly Marc Gasol’s No. 33, and Mike Conley’s No. 11 — from the FedExForum rafters.

The Grizzlies made that official Thursday, which inspired Allen’s choked up reaction from New Orleans, where Allen now plays for the Pelicans.

With Allen on the verge of crying, Memphians everywhere were on the verge of crying. Which is something those outside this city will never fully understand.

So there was skepticism from across the country or certainly across the Twitterverse.

Sample tweet No. 1: “The Grizz are really planning on retiring Tony Allen’s jersey?”

Sample tweet No. 2: “Does Tony Allen actually deserve his jersey in the rafters?

Sample tweet No. 3: “What has Tony Allen done to get his jersey retired?!?!”

Answer: Defined a franchise. Isn’t that enough?

It’s not like you have to be a seven-time All-Star to have your number retired, or even a one-time All-Star for that matter.

The Celtics retired the numbers of Cedric Maxwell (never an All-Star) and Jim Loscutoff (never an All-Star, and a man who averaged 6.2 points and 5.6 points a game).

The Mavericks retired the number of Brad Davis (never an All-Star). The Blazers retired the numbers of Larry Steele (never an All-Star), Bob Gross (never an All-Star) and Lloyd Neal (never an All-Star).

Heck, the Orlando Magic and Sacramento Kings retired No. 6, for their fans. And the Miami Heat retired Michael Jordan’s No. 23, although he never even played for the team.

The point is not to disparage any of those players or decisions. But players (or fans, or owners, or executives, or public address announcers) can have their numbers retired by franchises for all kinds of reasons, and defining a franchise would seem to be a reasonable one.

That’s what people outside of this city can’t appreciate. They can’t understand the fragility of the Memphis franchise when Allen was signed as a free agent, even after nine years in town. The Grizzlies weren’t nearly as popular as the Memphis Tigers. They had never truly taken root.

Then along came Allen, and all his wacky defensive brilliance, and things would never be the same. The Grizzlies went to the playoffs every year Allen suited up for them. Attendance started to climb, from 13,485 the year before Allen, to 14,650 his first year, to 15,704 his second year, to 16,624 his third.

And, of course, there was the quote. The quote Allen delivered on Feb. 8, 2011, when he explained an upset over the Oklahoma City with these words: “All heart, grit grind.”

That became a civic mantra. It changed, in a very real way, how Memphians thought of themselves. It wasn’t about the Grindhouse or the Grindfather or even the grit-grind growl towels. It was about taking the very thing that Memphians used to feel bad about — the hard-scrabble, blue-collar nature of the place — and turning it into a point of pride.

So, no, I don’t expect anyone in Los Angeles or Dallas or Charlotte to understand that. Nor do I expect them to understand why Allen became the official spokesperson for the Memphis airport, or why a recording of Allen’s voice was used to remind hundreds of thousands of Memphis parents to send their kids to school.

Allen is absolutely one of the best perimeter defenders to ever play the game. He has been named first-team all-defense three times, and second-team all-defense another three times. But this city's relationship with Allen was never about the numbers. It was about the way he made people laugh, and the way he made them care, and the way he made them feel about the place they call home.

So of course his number should someday hang in the rafters, along with the numbers of each of the Core Four. And while some people outside this city may not understand that, grateful Memphians do.