The heart of a warrior - Rising Star: Gilbert Arenas

Basketball Digest, March, 2003 by Irwin Soonachan

THEY SAY THAT IN EVERY LIFE, there is a defining moment It might not be true in all cases, but it's certainly true for Golden State Warriors guard Gilbert Arenas.

As a freshman at Birmingham High School in Los Angeles, he was a pretty good basketball player, made junior varsity, and although he didn't play much he put up good numbers when he did. He was also known to enjoy street football, and even ran on the track team to improve what he felt was his weakness as an athlete: speed. He was an easygoing kid with a great sense of humor who pretty much stayed out of trouble.

Then, at the end of the basketball season, the varsity coach said something to Arenas that would change his life forever: "You'll never play on the varsity team."

From that day forward, Arenas was a basketball player.

"I think that's where it started," says Arenas, who was drafted into the NBA just five years later. "Before that I always liked basketball, but I wasn't really into it. I just liked playing it because all my friends did it and it kept me out of trouble."

That summer, determined to prove that coach wrong, he rose at 6 a.m. to work on his skills, and then spent all day playing pickup games. He often didn't return home until midnight. His parents, knowing where they could find him and that he was staying out of trouble, didn't bother him. That fall, he would have to start getting up even earlier--Arenas transferred from Birmingham, which was down the street from his home, to Grant High in Van Nuys, which meant early morning bus rides on city transit to get to school.

An instant starter at his new school, Arenas saved his best games for his former coach, whose team he lit up twice a year.

It wouldn't be the last time Arenas heard he wouldn't play. Three years after transferring to Grant High he committed to the University of Arizona, and it was the same story: Arenas might be good enough to sit on the bench at the college level, but he'd never play.

"I would read things in the paper, hear people talking on the street, somebody saying that somebody else said it," he says.

So Arenas donned No. 0, to symbolize the amount of playing time the doubters said he'd receive. And in his sophomore year, No. 0 started on the Arizona team that played in the NCAA championship game.

When he decided to turn pro, the record skipped again. This time, they said he was undersized college shooting guard who wouldn't be able to make the transition to NBA point guard--a classic 'tweener. He slipped into the second round and was selected by Golden State. Arenas, for his part, guaranteed that he would be a starter by midseason, a bold move for any second-round pick, let alone one drafted by a team with a pair of entrenched veteran point guards in Mookie Blaylock and Vonteego Cummings. As usual, Arenas lived up to his promise.

"I like when somebody says something negative about me because I can put it back in their face," he says.

What haven't the critics seen? Arenas has skills that don't cleanly fit into any one category, but that make it hard to keep him off the floor. Using techniques he says he learned in his track career, Arenas has been called the fastest player in the NBA. He has a great first step and finishes above the rim, yet he's also stronger than most point guards. He can defend on the ball and has soft touch on his jumper, and while he doesn't see the floor like Jason Kidd, Arenas makes good enough decisions to quietly rack up assists. On an average night, Arenas fills up a stat sheet with points, rebounds, assists, steals, and threes.

He's weak to his left, but with a work ethic that sometimes leads him to the Warriors' practice facility at 3 a.m., it won't be long until he isn't

Arenas' next challenge may be his most daunting: Helping to lead the Warriors, who haven't made the playoffs since Oakland was a prairie, back to respectability. True to form, he's taking the job personally.

He's been bothered this year by a groin pull that would have landed most players on the injured list, but Arenas refuses to take a break. He's on a mission.

"I want to show my talent in the playoffs," he says.

Recently, when a writer asked him why he doesn't take time off to heal, Arenas pointed to the Warriors logo on his practice jersey.

"See this?" he said. "It means something."

As strange as that sounds coming from a member of the team Californians refer to as "Clippers North," who wants to doubt him?