Cavalier Lance Allred never plays. But what other rookie grew up in a cult and is writing a Jane Austen satire?

On the Stampede, Allred was a captain, the leading rebounder, and an All-Star. Now he's an insurance policy — a warm body to fill out the roster and occasionally take the floor to protect the team's regulars from injury. The lack of playing time has its upside: the $25,000 he made during his first 10 days was more than double what he made last year with the Stampede. It's a lifestyle change made obvious during his first night on the team plane, when he watched a teammate lose thousands in a card game.

"They asked me if I wanted to play," says Allred, sitting in the team lounge before a recent game. "I told them that's more than I make in a year."

But more than his portfolio separates Allred from his new teammates.

A devout Mormon, Allred grew up on a polygamous compound in Montana. His family moved to Salt Lake when he was seven, and broke away from the extremist sect six years later. The transition was especially hard on Allred, who was born with a severe hearing impairment. Although his hearing had improved thank to aids, lip reading, and years of speech therapy, he still heard only 75 percent of what other kids could.

Self-conscious about his speech, Allred found outlets in reading and writing, and reveled in listening to stories told by his dad, a high-school history teacher. It wasn't until 8th grade, after a six-inch growth spurt, that someone suggested he take up basketball.

"Oh, he was terrible." says his mom, Tana. "And we have the video to prove it."

But his skill quickly caught up with his size. As a high-school senior, Allred won Utah's player of the year award. His college decision was easy: His hometown University of Utah Utes were recent runners up in the national title game, and Utes coach Rick Majerus had a reputation for turning his players into NBA draft picks.

But even in the autocratic realm of college coaching, Majerus was a notorious bully, and during Allred's two years at Utah, he was a frequent target. In 2004, he told a Salt Lake newspaper that Majerus had called him a "disgrace to cripples," a claim backed up by two of Allred's ex-teammates. And one day, as punishment for some now-forgotten offense, Majerus ordered Allred to be tested for a learning disability.

Allred was anything but disabled. He'd aced the ACTs. After 10 minutes of questions on the special-needs test, the woman testing him asked what he was doing there. "So I told her," he says. "'My coach wants to humiliate me even though I have the highest GPA on the team.'"

After two years at Utah, Allred transferred to nearby Weber State, where he earned All Big-Sky conference honors and graduated with a double-major in English and history. Undrafted, he started his pro career overseas.

"For a lot of players going overseas can be intimidating," says Allred. "But for me, a European history major, it wasn't."

But the promises offered by the European clubs proved empty. In Turkey, he signed a contract for $100,000, he says, but was never paid. When he threatened to sit out until his contract was honored, his owner responded by sending a taxi driver to his hotel to take him to the airport. After a short stint with two French teams and one in Spain — where he says his team refused to pay for knee surgery — he flew back to Utah, paid for the operation, and found himself $30,000 in debt.

"I was about to quit," he says, "thinking maybe this isn't what I'm supposed to be doing and maybe I'll just go be a high-school history teacher like my dad."