Acquired Taste

Instead of fostering a sense of displacement, Allen's itinerant upbringing exposed him to a wide range of people and places, imbuing him with a worldliness unknown to most of his peers. The cultural attach� of the Bucks ' locker room, Allen recently explained the concept of a bar mitzvah to some teammates, and he taught others about the origins of Oktoberfest. He's as comfortable rapping along with DMX on the back of the team's plane as he is rapping about politics with the Bucks ' owner, Senator Herb Kohl . (In fact, Allen is so close to Kohl that he didn't feel the need to retain an agent when he signed the maximum six-year, $70.9 million contact extension in February 1999.)

"I feel like I can go anywhere, which gives me total confidence," he says. "I can take it to the streets, or I can take it to the boardroom. The trick is to allow people to feel they can relate to you. The more people—white, black, young, old—who can say, 'I know where he's coming from,' the more successful you'll be."

This prompts an obvious question: Why is Allen still on the B-list of NBA stars? A player this well-rounded and with this much charisma ought to be on the front lines of the league's marketing offensive, scooping up endorsements by the handful. Yet Allen is as recognized for his role as hoops prodigy Jesus Shuttlesworth in the 1998 Spike Lee flick He Got Game as he is for any of his noncelluloid basketball feats. Allen doesn't mind at all: He's well-enough known that he has an endorsement deal with Nike and is a bona fide All-Star, but he relishes walking into a Blockbuster or going bowling—now hooked on the local passion, he claims to have a 180 average—without being accosted. Still, at a time when the league is desperate for a transfusion of new blood, Allen's failure to make a more serious dent in the public consciousness is perplexing.

The easy explanation is that he plays not only for a small-market team but also for one that hasn't won a postseason series since 1989, when Allen was in the eighth grade. The Bucks have only one full-time beat writer, and during the regular season they appear on NBC as often as the NFL does. "The city fits me great," says Allen, whose tour of duty in Milwaukee has lasted longer than any other in his life. "But we've been anonymous for so long that a lot of people don't even know where Milwaukee is geographically."

Perhaps Allen also suffers for being too nuanced, too evolved and complex. NBA stars are supposed to be like Hollywood cyborgs, characters easily reduced to a single image: Shaq the Superhero, Prince Vince Carter , Iverson the Iconoclast. Too many people aren't sure what to make of Allen, who answers to the cutting-edge handle of...Ray. "If you try and please everyone, you can end up pleasing no one," says Bob Williams , president of Burns Sports & Celebrities, Inc., a company based in Evanston, Ill. , that matches athletes with endorsement opportunities. " Ray Allen is hard to pin down, and he ends up being nondescript."

Karl wonders if Allen isn't too polished and image-conscious for his own good. "I call him Barbie Doll because he wants to be pretty," says Karl . "He's a great player, but he cares too much about having style, making highlights and being cool. Basketball isn't about being cool. It's a tough, competitive game, and to win you have to be mean, you have to be an assassin, and that's not Ray."

Karl was especially irked by Allen's play last week in the two games following the All-Star break. On successive nights he surrendered 49 and 35 points, respectively, to Iverson and the Atlanta Hawks ' Jason Terry . From Karl 's vantage point, those defensive performances didn't seem to bother Allen. "Two guys drop 84 points on your ass, and I'm thinking, Where's the pissed-off competitor?" Karl says. "I look at Ray, he's out there smiling. Tell me what that's all about."

Allen shrugs. "George is a passionate guy, but I can't bring myself to see basketball as life or death," he says. Allen is sufficiently self-aware to recognize that his game could benefit from a dose of intensity. Still, as accommodating and flexible as he is in everyday life, he is unwilling to change his essential nature. Sure, he wants to win and gets competitive playing pool, Ping-Pong and even Yahtzee with friends. "But I have to be myself," Allen says. "I can't be all things to all people."

Perhaps not. But he comes durn close.