As confetti rained down from the rafters at MCI Center 11 days ago, when the Washington Wizards clinched the franchise's first playoff berth in eight years, Gilbert Arenas stood shirtless near center court after performing his postgame ritual of tossing his No. 0 jersey into the stands. He gazed skyward, a huge smile on his face.
The fiercely competitive and often comedic Arenas had done what most thought was impossible: Through his leadership and work ethic, he helped bring the postseason to a moribund organization that even Michael Jordan — considered by many to be the greatest to ever play the game of basketball — couldn't rescue. And, at the ripe old age of 23, he also shed the labels that have followed him throughout his National Basketball Association career — a natural talent too immature, too erratic and too selfish to ever lead a team anywhere.
"You can just see how much he's matured," said forward Antawn Jamison, who along with Arenas and Larry Hughes has given the Wizards the highest-scoring threesome in the NBA, averaging 67.1 points per game. "He's really amazed me."
Arenas seemed an unlikely candidate to reverse the fortunes of the Wizards, who begin the playoffs today against the Bulls in Chicago at 5:30 p.m. Coach Eddie Jordan coined the phrase "Gilbertology" to describe his offbeat point guard. "He's not moving to the beat of a different drummer," Jordan said. "He's moving to a different beat."
There's the shirt-throwing, of course — something Arenas says he has done his whole career but which didn't attract much attention until this season. And wearing size-13 shoes on his size-14 1/2 feet because he's afraid of making his feet look too big. And the pregame superstitions such as always eating a meal from Boston Market, parking his car in the same spot, listening to the same music in the same order and tickling Jamison's armpit before the opening tip-off. Not to mention his habit of showing up at MCI Center for late-night workouts, rather than sleeping in and risking someone else outworking him.
But that hard work and competitive streak resulted in a team-high average of 25.5 points and Arenas's first all-star appearance. And Arenas's fun-loving personality proved to be the perfect addition to a franchise that has been mired in mediocrity for most of the past 25 years; a franchise that hasn't been to the playoffs since 1997, won a playoff game since 1988 or a playoff series since 1982, the year Arenas was born.
"I'm grateful, happy, proud, that I came here and did something — made history," Arenas said. "My name is going to always be remembered for that, and that's a great feeling."
In leading the Wizards to today's first-round matchup with the Chicago Bulls, Arenas managed to eliminate some of the distractions of past seasons — collecting technical fouls, trashing locker rooms in frustration, etc. And, though single, he took on responsibilities in his private life, becoming a big brother for a local child who lost his family in a fire in late December.
"Gilbert is going to be Gilbert," said Orlando Magic Executive Basketball Operations Director Otis Smith, who worked closely with Arenas during Arenas's first two seasons in Golden State. "He's a special, quirky kid and people misinterpret that to [mean] he's just weird. But I think he's just a different kid. His uniqueness is that he does whatever it takes to win."
Arenas's "uniqueness" begins with his unorthodox upbringing. He was raised by a single father who gained custody of his son shortly before Arenas turned 3. (He has seen his mother once as an adult, after a game in Miami during his rookie season.)
When Gilbert was 8, his father packed up his Mazda RX-7 and drove from Florida to California to pursue his dream of becoming an actor. Arriving in Burbank, they only had $50, no plan and no place to stay. After surviving on McDonald's and living out of a car for three nights, Gilbert Arenas Sr. found employment, bouncing between odd jobs until he acquired some acting gigs.
When his father took a night job at UPS, Gilbert would watch his father leave for work at 2:30 a.m., and he'd be right behind, heading to a nearby park to work on his game. "All I knew was, he's working and working. So, I always knew, if I want something in life, I got to work," Arenas said.
Arenas became the first all-star from his 2001 NBA draft class but has dealt with slights throughout his basketball career. He wound up going to the University of Arizona only because a player backed out of his commitment, leaving a scholarship available. Arenas chose jersey No. 0 for the number of minutes several doubters told him he would play at a school that won the NCAA championship two years before.
"When he got there, people were like, 'Who is this Arenas guy? Is he Mexican? Is he Puerto Rican?' " said Arenas Sr., whose grandfather emigrated from Cuba. "I know a lot of people question his ability to do things, but that's what he loves — challenges. He takes things on his shoulders because he knows what he's capable of doing."
Arenas went on to lead Arizona in scoring his sophomore season, but had never seriously thought about leaving for the NBA until teammate Richard Jefferson announced his intention to leave on a plane ride back from Minneapolis, after Arizona lost to Duke in the NCAA championship game in 2001.
Arenas Sr. called around to see the level of interest in his son. After receiving assurances that he would be a first-round pick, Gilbert declared for the NBA draft, bought himself a $55,000 Cadillac Escalade and added more than $50,000 in accessories. He watched the draft from a hotel room in Marina del Rey, Calif., but when the first round passed without him being drafted, Arenas threw his newly purchased jewelry out the window, turned off the TV, called then-Arizona assistant Rodney Tention and cried.
When Tention told him that the Golden State Warriors drafted him No. 31, Arenas said: "That's the worst mistake the NBA has made. I'm going to the gym right now."
After being stashed on the injured list for half of his rookie season, Arenas quickly burst onto the scene. A year later, he was given the league's most improved player award after leading a 17-game turnaround in Golden State.
When Arenas signed a six-year, $65 million contract with the Wizards in the summer of 2003, his colorful antics overshadowed his immense talents. Wasn't he the same guy who took a shower during halftime against San Antonio — in his uniform and sneakers — and then scored 24 points in the second half? The same guy who used to play ridiculous practical jokes as rookie — hiding his teammates' keys, stealing their jerseys, putting room service on their tabs or grabbing their two-way pagers and sending embarrassing e-mail messages?
"They used to make him get doughnuts, a rookie thing," said Golden State forward Troy Murphy. "I would come in early and he'd be putting baby powder [as if it was powdered sugar] on the doughnuts or licking them and putting them back in the box. He would look at me and laugh whenever someone would eat one. That's when I shut down eating doughnuts."
"He is," Golden State forward Adonal Foyle said, taking a long pause, "a lunatic."
Arenas didn't do much to dispute that assertion when he boldly declared that the Wizards were going to the playoffs at his introductory news conference. He quickly added to his legacy as a strange character throughout his first season in Washington, testing the patience of his coach.
He also was injured, missing 27 games because of a strained abdomen and leading the team to just 25 wins. In the offseason, Arenas committed himself to making a change, and when the Wizards acquired Jamison from Dallas in a draft day deal, Arenas felt that reuniting with his former Golden State teammate could be a turning point.
Then, when he arrived in Las Vegas to work out with several NBA players last summer, Arenas received a challenge from Cleveland Cavaliers guard Eric Snow. "I said, 'Man, listen. I look at your game and I look at you, you easily could be a top-five point guard in this league and what do you got to show for it?' " said Snow, a 10-year veteran who has played with Philadelphia's Allen Iverson and Boston's Gary Payton.
Arenas also earned the trust of Jordan, who met with Arenas and Hughes before the season began, placing the success or failure of the team in the hands of his talented back court. "Coming from last year to this year is night and day. He's turned his demeanor his behavior and trust all the way around. He has made this 180-degree turn," Jordan said. "He wants to win, he wants to help his teammates, he wants to be a good defensive player. And he wants to be known as an all-star, in that realm as a complete player and a winner."
Arenas's focus on becoming one of the top players in the league keeps him confined mostly to his home in Great Falls. He spends most of his free time playing the video game Halo on his Xbox. Arenas said the only time he went out this season was when he went to a club to celebrate the playoff berth with his teammates.
"I can go out in the summer. That's when all the nice girls will be out anyway," Arenas said. "I want to stay here in the summer, sight-see a little bit and get familiar with the city because I'm going to be here a long time."
Arenas often gets stopped for autographs and jersey requests when he is spotted around town, but he finally made a real connection with someone when he met Andre McAllister, a 10-year-old who was the only survivor from a fire in the District that killed his mother, twin sister, great-grandfather and a cousin five days before Christmas. Arenas took the youngster under his wing, got him hired as a ballboy at Wizards games and helps him focus on having fun.
Arenas was once the kid some thought would never grow up, and in some ways, still hasn't. But now he is a mentor — and a leader for a playoff team. "I don't know how people said, 'You aren't going to mature,' " Arenas said. "Everybody is immature at one point, then you grow up. That's life."
