Yeah, he’s still mad at his first college coach, Rick Majerus.
Allred has had a dark, confusing journey. In a sport of stereotypical actors, where owners and executives, coaches and players, can be easily compartmentalized, Allred defies it all. His first book is on the shelves and a second manuscript is nearly completed: historical fiction on the 14th century Teutonic Knights in Germany. No, Lance Allred doesn’t make the bus trips through the NBA D-League with an Xbox in his bag.
“They fought in the Baltics, a bunch of bad-asses,” Allred said of his latest subjects.
Allred never would’ve considered himself one of those, but his staying power, his resiliency, have proven him so. He survived as the grandson of Mormon royalty – a descendent of Rulon C. Allred, the prophet of the fundamentalist sect. He survived three years with Majerus, whose relentless abuse included declaring Allred a “disgrace to cripples” and telling him he had “weaseled his way through life using his hearing [loss] as an excuse.” Allred said Majerus tortured him in ways overt and subtle, pushing him to the brink of a nervous breakdown and ultimately post-traumatic syndrome. Majerus denied saying such things and was cleared of discrimination after a university investigation, but he resigned shortly after Allred’s revelations were made public in 2003, citing health problems.
“That took me a long time to get over,” Allred said. “I’ve owned up to my own shortcomings at Utah. Had I been more emotionally healthy and got some help, I might have been better prepared to handle something that nobody should ever have to endure. It seems so absurd now, but I was looking for a prophet to lead me. I wasn’t comfortable with myself and got myself into a bind.
“But in turn, I give Majerus no credit for my success. I’ve learned to combat it all, but every now and then, I still have a nightmare about him where I wake up in a cold sweat and then I just think, ‘Thank God I’m not playing for him anymore.’ ”