spurscenter
10-22-2007, 08:37 AM
nah, he is a very nice dude.
hangs out at malls here in LA in off season, very chill and humble.
I talked to him couple of times at the mall, about spurs among other things, he has great respect for the game and players like duncan, etc.
Grew up homeless in streets of LA with his dad as a teen. Very very deep and interesting story
read about his upbringing. youll be amazed.
I like the kid. He means well. He needs a coach like pop.
Arenas's upbringing was -- surprise! -- anything but conventional. He was raised by his father, Gilbert Sr., who took sole custody of him just before his third birthday. (Gilbert says he's seen his mother only once since, when she showed up at a game during his rookie season.) Gilbert Sr., who played baseball at Florida Memorial College and was briefly a walk-on with the Miami football team, was a part-time model who, after landing bit parts in TV shows (including Miami Vice), packed up the two-man family when Gilbert was eight and drove cross-country in his Mazda coupe, heading for Hollywood, where dreamers go to make it big. Of course, it's also where dreamers go to sleep in their car in some forlorn Burbank park, which is what dad and son did for the first two nights. Eventually, they settled into a routine. Gilbert Sr. would get up at 3 a.m., work at UPS, come back to their San Fernando Valley home, sleep and then audition all afternoon. Gilbert Jr. would play ball and raise hell, not necessarily in that order. Still, he took a lesson from his father. "He was an inspiration," says Gilbert, who says his dad remains his best friend. "He showed me, without even saying it, what hard work does."
Though Gilbert is, by his account, very single -- "I'm on the market!" he says, rubbing his hands together -- he also has an innate paternal, or at least fraternal, instinct. Before this season he bought enough jerseys so that, after home games, he can take one off and toss it to someone, usually a young fan, in the crowd. For the second Christmas in a row, he spent the day with 200 kids; this time he took them to see The Spongebob Squarepants Movie before giving each a gift. While there, he met Andre McAllister, a 10-year-old who was the only member of his family to escape a December house fire. "I took him under my wing and decided that I would be his big brother," says Arenas. So he bought Andre clothes and set him up as a frequent ball boy at Wizards games. Andre can now be seen sprinting through the MCI center halls, shagging rebounds during pregame shootarounds and, at halftime, inhaling the giant banana splits available in the media lounge. Asked on a recent night about Arenas, Andre described him as nice and funny and "a whole lot of other stuff" in between spoonfuls of ice cream so large that he had to stop periodically to ward off brain-freeze. Andre then added that he'd played one-on-one with Arenas. Asked who won, Andre answered as if it should be self-evident: "I did."
Only, according to Arenas, that's not how it happened. "Of course he'd say that," Arenas says with a big, incredulous smile. "But I'm not going to let him win."
For once with Arenas, the message was straightforward: If you want success, you have to earn it. Just the way he did.
Real Tomato Ketchup
10-22-2007, 04:33 PM
nah, he is a very nice dude.
hangs out at malls here in LA in off season, very chill and humble.
I talked to him couple of times at the mall, about spurs among other things, he has great respect for the game and players like duncan, etc.
Grew up homeless in streets of LA with his dad as a teen. Very very deep and interesting story
read about his upbringing. youll be amazed.
I like the kid. He means well. He needs a coach like pop.
Arenas's upbringing was -- surprise! -- anything but conventional. He was raised by his father, Gilbert Sr., who took sole custody of him just before his third birthday. (Gilbert says he's seen his mother only once since, when she showed up at a game during his rookie season.) Gilbert Sr., who played baseball at Florida Memorial College and was briefly a walk-on with the Miami football team, was a part-time model who, after landing bit parts in TV shows (including Miami Vice), packed up the two-man family when Gilbert was eight and drove cross-country in his Mazda coupe, heading for Hollywood, where dreamers go to make it big. Of course, it's also where dreamers go to sleep in their car in some forlorn Burbank park, which is what dad and son did for the first two nights. Eventually, they settled into a routine. Gilbert Sr. would get up at 3 a.m., work at UPS, come back to their San Fernando Valley home, sleep and then audition all afternoon. Gilbert Jr. would play ball and raise hell, not necessarily in that order. Still, he took a lesson from his father. "He was an inspiration," says Gilbert, who says his dad remains his best friend. "He showed me, without even saying it, what hard work does."
Though Gilbert is, by his account, very single -- "I'm on the market!" he says, rubbing his hands together -- he also has an innate paternal, or at least fraternal, instinct. Before this season he bought enough jerseys so that, after home games, he can take one off and toss it to someone, usually a young fan, in the crowd. For the second Christmas in a row, he spent the day with 200 kids; this time he took them to see The Spongebob Squarepants Movie before giving each a gift. While there, he met Andre McAllister, a 10-year-old who was the only member of his family to escape a December house fire. "I took him under my wing and decided that I would be his big brother," says Arenas. So he bought Andre clothes and set him up as a frequent ball boy at Wizards games. Andre can now be seen sprinting through the MCI center halls, shagging rebounds during pregame shootarounds and, at halftime, inhaling the giant banana splits available in the media lounge. Asked on a recent night about Arenas, Andre described him as nice and funny and "a whole lot of other stuff" in between spoonfuls of ice cream so large that he had to stop periodically to ward off brain-freeze. Andre then added that he'd played one-on-one with Arenas. Asked who won, Andre answered as if it should be self-evident: "I did."
Only, according to Arenas, that's not how it happened. "Of course he'd say that," Arenas says with a big, incredulous smile. "But I'm not going to let him win."
For once with Arenas, the message was straightforward: If you want success, you have to earn it. Just the way he did.
That's is AWESOME. He just went up several notches in my book, assuming this is all true.
spurscenter
10-22-2007, 05:19 PM
That's is AWESOME. He just went up several notches in my book, assuming this is all true.
Yes
Read this.
http://www.jockbio.com/Bios/Arenas/Arenas_bio.html
When you play basketball the way Gilbert Arenas does, you deserve a great nickname. So far, nothing has stuck. How about “Triple E”—for Energetic, Emotional and Eccentric. Or “Triple D”—for Downtown, Drive and Dunk. You get the idea. The Washington Wizards’ do-it-all point guard is one of the NBA’s most exciting players, not to mention a truly unique personality. A rare second-round pick who made good, Gilbert has been proving his doubters wrong for as long as anyone can remember. This is his story…
GROWING UP
Gilbert Jay Arenas, Jr. was born on January 6, 1982 in Tampa, Florida. His mother, a teenager at the time, was unprepared for parenthood. She tried to raise Gilbert by herself in Miami, but started to hang out with some unsavory types and eventually got in trouble with the cops. When the authorities became aware of young Gilbert’s plight, they made arrangements to place him in foster care.
Gilbert Arenas Sr. was working in an auto parts store in Tampa when the call came. As the boy’s natural father, he had rights. Normally, this is just a cursory contact, a formality to clear the child before moving him into a new home. Gilbert Sr. thought about his own childhood, growing up without a father, and decided to do the right thing. He assumed sole custody of his two-year-old son. Gilbert went 20 years before he saw his mother again.
Gilbert Sr. had big dreams. A baseball star at Florida Memorial College, he walked on to Howard Schnellenberger’s University of Miami football squad as a fullback in 1980. That was the season freshman quarterback Jim Kelly won the starting job and the Hurricanes won the Peach Bowl. Gilbert Sr.'s sports career ended that year, however, when he injured his leg.
A tall, good-looking man, Gilbert’s father got into modeling, appearing in ads for Sears and JC Penney. He eventually found his way into acting, and appeared in the first two episodes of Miami Vice. When the show became a hit, he decided to leverage his 15 minutes of fame and moved to Los Angeles to further his career. He and his son packed everything they owned into his Mazda RX-7 and headed west.
When they arrived in Hollywood, they discovered the rental market worked a little differently than in Miami. Landlords were looking for $1,000 or more up front, which was more than Gilbert Sr. had saved. The pair spent three nights sleeping in the car in a Burbank parking lot before securing a room at a YMCA.
The first order of business was to find a steady job. Gilbert’s father talked up the manager of a furniture store, who couldn’t help but notice the seven-year-old kid dribbling a basketball between his legs while he waited near the car. Because his new boss was a hoops fanatic, Gilbert Sr. got the job.
Later, Gilbert Sr. landed a night job with UPS. He would work until morning, catch a couple of hours of sleep while his son was in school, and go on auditions in the evenings. He hired an agent, who helped him get bits parts in TV shows, movies and commercials (including high-paying ones for Tostitos and Pepcid AC). Gilbert Sr. was relentless in his pursuit of work, and imaginative, too. Once he got into a softball game with the Days of Our Lives team and and launched several long home runs. Soon he was playing a fireman on the soap.
Having an actor for a father could be interesting. Gilbert once brought a friend home, and his father kept shouting “Kick his ass!” Gilbert had to explain that his father, who was due to shoot a scene the next day in Jean-Claude Van Damme’s, Lionheart, was practicing his one line until he had it down perfectly.
Left to his own devices, Gilbert became the neighborhood pain in the ass, busting windows, keying cars and getting into minor trouble in a major way. He hated to be home alone, and did not know how to unleash his boundless energy. He did well enough in school, and learned how to charm his teachers with a big smile and a sly sense of humor. Still, without an outlet, Gilbert was headed for problems.
Around the age of 11, basketball replaced street football as his number-one outlet. He played after school and, when his father left for the night shift at UPS, he would sneak out and ball it up all night. Before long, Gilbert became a familiar face on the local playgrounds. His father had an inkling of what he was up to, and developed a network of friends in the area who would keep an eye on his son.
When the Arenas men did spend time together, their natural competitiveness came out. They often faced off in take-no-prisoners one-on-one basketball. During one game, Gilbert reached in to knock the ball away from his father, who cracked him on the hand and dislocated his finger. Watch Gilbert now and you can see that he almost never gets whistled for reaching in.
Gilbert Sr. coached a park league team, and since most of the boys were bigger and older than his son, he kept him on the bench. He explained to Gilbert that his goal was to win, not to give him PT. Gilbert quit, joined another team, and dropped 15 on his dad’s squad in their next meeting.
Gilbert also beat his dad at video football. When he explained the controls to his father, he neglected to enlighten him about all of the buttons. Gilbert Sr. found out, became furious and punched his son in the arm. They have never played video games again. Today, they still compete at pool, darts and dominoes.
ON THE RISE
Gilbert enrolled at nearby Birmingham High School and made the junior varsity. He was playing well, having a good time, and not taking the game too seriously when the varsity coach cornered him to let him know he had reached his ceiling as a player.
That summer, Gilbert got up with the sun each morning and practiced until the other players began showing up for games. He usually stayed at the court past dinner. In the fall, he transferred to Ulysses S. Grant High School in Van Nuys, a long bus ride away. It was worth it. The Lancers had a decent basketball team, though it was not a large school and its schedule included a couple of powder puff teams. Being young for his class at 14 and standing just 5-9, Gilbert did not yet have the look of a hoops superstar, but it took little time for him to show off his skills. He earned a starting role on coach Howard Levine’s varsity as a sophomore and within a month he blossomed into the best player in the league.
With a growing repertoire of slick one-on-one moves, Gilbert toyed with defenders. He could penetrate and score, or pull up and hit from downtown. He was an adept passer, aggressive rebounder, and a defensive demon who could strip enemy dribblers or hammer balls back in a shooter’s face.
The game may have come naturally to Gilbert, but he was always practicing, always working on something new. He would often sneak back into his old elementary school and shoot for hours in the deserted gym. Gilbert was voted 1997 Valley Pac-8 Player of the Year as a sophomore, as well as Los Angeles All-City. He would earn these dual honors twice more, as a junior and senior.
After Gilbert’s junior year, during which he averaged just under 30 points, he applied to a math and science magnet school in Sylmar and joined that school’s summer league team. Now standing 6-3, Gilbert made the move to increase his level of competition. Sylmar played teams from Compton and Dominguez in the southern part of LA. Fearing he would lose his star, Levine hoped to convince Gilbert to stay at Grant. In the end, though he was accepted at Sylmar, Gilbert returned for his final season with the Lancers. (He would lead Grant to a share of the league title, while Sylmar went on to win the LA 3-A championship.)
At the start of Gilbert’s senior year, he wandered over to the UCLA campus and talked to the coaches. He and his dad had long dreamed of wearing a Bruins uniform. The school had shown some interest in him, and he wanted to more clarification. The deal, the Bruins told him, was that they were waiting to hear from Carlos Boozer (who eventually chose Duke). UCLA was also worried about Gilbert's attitude, believing he had run up the score on so-so opponents on the Grant schedule. His academic record was a concern as well. Ultimately, the Bruins would regret this decision. They had all sorts of trouble at shooting guard the next two years, while Gilbert torched them whenever he met them in the Pac-10.
Meanwhile, Gilbert also received solid offers from DePaul, Kansas State and Arizona. With Wildcat assistant Ray Tention hot on his trail, he chose to stay out west. He committed to Arizona and Lute Olson prior to his senior season, when he was still only 16-years-old.
And what a season it was. Gilbert put up huge numbers, averaging 33.4 points, 7.9 rebounds, 3.0 assists and 4.6 stealse. After finishing his career at Grant with more than 2,000 points, he was being called the best scorer ever in the San Fernando Valley. Olson had himself a real star.
The Wildcats, rebuilding after losing Michael Dickerson, Mike Bibby and Miles Simon to the NBA a couple of years earlier, had used their past success to bring in some wonderful players. Indded, Gilbert joined one of the most talent-laden teams in school history, with Jason Gardner, Richard Jefferson, Loren Woods, Luke Walton and Michael Wright. The starter at two-guard was Ruben Douglas, and Gilbert was asked to red shirt for a year. But since he had once torched Douglas for 49 points in a high school game, he didn’t think much of the plan.
During Arizona’s informal summer games, Gilbert took nothing but pull-up jumpers. When real practices began, however, he pump-faked Douglas out of his jock. Gilbert had publicly stated that he hoped to start by the mid-point of his freshman year, and it was immediately clear that he would make good on this boast. (Douglas transferred to New Mexico a few weeks later, and topped the nation in scoring one season there.)
In Gilbert's debut in a Wildcat uniform, for the Blue team in the Pepsi Red-Blue pre-season scrimmage, he scored 22 points and hauled down five offensive rebounds in front of a raucous student crowd. A couple of weeks later, he was voted MVP of the pre-season NIT after pumping in 20 and registering five steals against Kentucky in the championship game.
Gilbert's major adjustment to Division I competition was learning what to do without the ball. At Grant, he always had the rock, or was always about to get it. Working off screens and getting himself open for good looks at the basket was a tough transition. When he got the ball, however, he knew what to do with it. In his first game against UCLA, Gilbert victimized the Bruins for 20 points. Days later, he was named Pac-10 Player of the Week.
Off the court, Gilbert found an interesting role with the Wildcats: class clown. He kept his teammates loose, and tried to crack them up when the super-serious Olson had his back turned. It wasn’t that Gilbert did not like or respect his coach; he simply thought he could be too demanding and inflexible. Olson discouraged his freshman from showboating, insisting he show class at all times.
Olson’s wife, Bobbi, was just the opposite. The unofficial team mother, she went out of her way to make Gilbert feel at home. Coupled with the free and easy lifestyle of the Arizona campus, freshman year was as close to perfect as he could imagine.
Gilbert was an excellent fit for Arizona’s up-tempo style, and he came up big at both ends game after game. He scored 15.4 points per game during his freshman year on 45.3% shooting from the field. He was also a terror on defense, averaging two steals a contest.
Arizona entered the NCAA Tournament as a #1 seed, but the team was beat up from hard regular season. Jefferson was coming back from a stress fracture in his foot, and was not yet playing at full speed. Woods, the key man in the middle, was sidelined by an aching back.
In their opener, the Wildcats appeared tight against Jackson State, and only led by eight points at intermission. They found their stroke in the second half, pulling away for a 71-47 win. Next up was a dangerous Wisconsin squad, which specialized in slowing down teams like Arizona. This they did, building a double-digit lead and thwarting every comeback attempt the Wildcats could muster. Gilbert was high man with 21 points, but Arizona lost 66-59. It was small consolation that the badgers continued to roll all the way to the Final Four.
Despite Arizona's early exit, the 2000-01 preseason polls had the Wildcats ranked among the best in the nation. Some believed they were Final Four material. Privately, the players thought they could go undefeated. Then the news about Bobbi Olson came—she was dying of cancer. The coach was devastated, as were his players. Her illness was kept out of the papers, but the team got off to a terrible start. Everyone around basketball knew something was wrong. Bobbi died on New Year’s Day.
Gilbert and his teammates chose to honor her memory by dedicating their season to her. Energized and inspired, they won 20 of their next 23 games. Gilbert was fantastic, burning opponents off the dribble and extending his range well past the the 3-point line. For the year, he upped his scoring to 16.5 ppg, and at 42.5% was deadly from beyond the arc. Gilbert also stepped up his defensive effort—though this was a result of being benched by Olson for poor practice habits.
The Wildcats headed into the NCAA Tournament like men on a mission. Gilbert was on fire in the opening game against Eastern Illinois, nailing nine of 13 shots from the field for 21 points in a 101-76 win. Next, Arizona choked off upstart Butler, 73-52, to advance to the Sweet Sixteen. Gilbert netted 15 in the tilt, along with eight rebounds.
It looked like the championship run would end early against Mississippi, as the Rebels opened an 18-6 lead. But Arizona caught up early in the second half and—led by Woods’s 16 points and 11 rebounds—and the Wildcats cruised to a 66-56 win. In the Midwest Final against Illinois, Gilbert scored 16 of Arizona’s first 24 points, and 18 in all in the first half. He finished with 21, while Gardner hit clutch threes and foul shots in the waning minutes for an 87-81 victory. The Wildcats earned their first trip to the Final Four since their national title in 1997.
In the national semifinal, a win over Michigan State, Gilbert stunned the Spartans with six steals. On one of those thefts, Zach Randolph crashed into his chest. Two days later, when he took the floor against Duke for the championship, Gilbert was still feeling intense pain. That morning, he didn’t think he could get out of bed, much less suit up. But there was no way he was going to miss a shot at the national title.
The Wildcats and Blue Devils tangled in an exciting final, which fans in Carolina remember for the brilliant all-around performance of Shane Battier, and Arizona fans still fume about because of questionable officiating. Duke guard Jason Williams played recklessly throughout the game, initiating contact at both ends of the floor, yet the referees rarely whistled him for fouls. The Blue Devils outlasted the Wildcats, 82-72.
Afterwards, Gilbert decided to enter the NBA draft along with Jefferson, Gardner and Wright. Olson went on record saying he was too young, but Gilbert had tested himself against the best the NCAA had to offer and, to his mind, had proved he would make a top pro.
Was Gilbert ready? Although he led Arizona in scoring, many scouts considered him to be too young, skinny and inexperienced to be an impact player at shooting guard, and too basket-happy to play the point. When Gilbert scanned the talent available in the draft, however, he thought he might go in the lottery. It soon became clear he was wrong.
MAKING HIS MARK
Gilbert Sr. threw a draft day party for his son in Studio City. After 20 picks had passed and his name had not been called, Gilbert called coach Tention, the coach who had recruited him out of high school. He wanted to know if there was any way he could undo the damage. Could someone call David Stern? Gilbert was panicked and crying—the first time he had shed tears since he was a child. As Tention was trying to calm Gilbert down, they heard some good news: Golden State had taken him in the second round, with the 31st pick overall.
Gilbert collected himself and made the same prediction he had three springs earlier: I’m going to start by mid-season. Then he headed to the gym to workout.
This time it would be a little trickier. Gilbert arrived at training camp slotted behind first-round pick Jason Richardson and backup Bob Sura. Coach Brian Winters was not a fan of underclassmen in the NBA, and promised to keep Gilbert on the pine regardless of the team’s record. The rookie practiced hard, got into a handful of blowouts, learned what he could from watching, and mostly kept his opinions to himself. Besides youngsters Richardson, Larry Hughes and Antawn Jamison, the Warriors were light on talent, and Winters had a hard time coaxing big efforts out of his players. The result was a dismal 21-win season.
Gilbert stayed sharp in practice. He managed to get a key to the Golden State's facility so he could work on his game at night. He also played a lot of pickup games in the local playgrounds in defiance of his $850,000 contract. Gilbert reasoned that this was the only action he would see where guys came at him ferociously. And they did. Everyone wanted a shot at NBA meat, and Gilbert obliged them.
Still, he sat. When the teams were announced for the Got Milk Rookie Game, Gilbert’s name was nowhere to be found. It frustrated him to watch the contest, mostly because he had destroyed so many of the players in college. Gilbert, in turn, became even more determined to be ready when his chance finally came. (Gilbert suited up for the sophomore squad the following year and was named MVP).
With Hughes struggling at the point and the playoffs out of range, Winters asked Gilbert if he would like to try his hand running the offense. He had never been interested in playing point guard, but minutes were minutes, and he had seen precious few to that point.
Learning on the job, Gilbert dished out 3.7 assists and scored over 10 points a game the rest of the way. It wasn’t always pretty. When in doubt, Gilbert just turned on the jets and outran his defenders. Sometimes he raced into traps, but at other times he created great opportunities for his teammates. When all was said and done, Gilbert finished fourth in scoring and third in assists and steals among NBA rookies—despite starting just 30 games. In those starts he averaged 14.1 points and 5.1 assists.
During a trip to Miami for a game against the Heat during his rookie year, Gilbert finally met his mother again. He had imagined an emotional reunion, but when she introduced herself neither knew what to do or say. He has not seen her since.
Over the summer, the Warriors unloaded Hughes, Blaylock and Dean Oliver, and drafted Mike Dunleavy instead of Jay Williams—which basically gave the point-guard job to Gilbert. He took a crash course in the position, watching tapes of former Wildcats Mike Bibby and Damon Stoudamire. When the 2002-03 season started, he was not only prepared to run the point, he was expecting to lead the Warriorsto victory every game. But, as Gilbert discovered, this is not how things work in Golden State, and it drove him crazy.
With the offense now in his hands, Gilbert was very serious about his job. Happy-go-lucky off the court, he became increasingly frustrated. The Warriors lost 44 games in '02-03, and a lot were decided by the end of the second quarter. Gilbert unleashed his anger at officials, racking up a lot of Ts, but he held his tongue with teammates—though sometimes he had to take halftime showers (in full uniform) to cool off. Gilbert also smashed his share of clipboards and threw his share of chairs. Richardson nicknamed him “Baby Ron Artest.”
Gilbert appeared in all 82 contests for the Warriors and finished with excellent numbers, including 18.3 points per game and 6.3 assists. He logged nearly 3,000 minutes, and answered any questions about whether he could be a productive NBA player. At season’s end, he was voted the the leauge’s Most Improved Player, beating out fellow points Chauncey Billups and Tony Parker.
Gilbert’s emergence thrilled Golden State fans—until it exposed an interesting loophole in the NBA’s collective bargaining agreement. Because he was a second-round pick, Gilbert was not only eligible for early-bird free agency, but the Warriors were not allowed to offer him more than the average salary of $4.6 million to stay in a Golden State uniform. In order to keep Gilbert, the team would have had to gut its roster. The Bay Area faithful went crazy when they found out they were likely to lose Gilbert. Many launched web sites supporting him and urging the Warriors to find a way to keep him.
Ultimately, however, it was Washington that put the best deal on the table—six years at $65 million. Having closed the books on the Michael Jordan era, the team’s new coach, Eddie Jordan, and new GM, Ernie Grunfeld, wanted to rebuild around a nucleus of exciting young talent. Already in the fold were Hughes and Kwame Brown, the top pick in the 2001 draft. Jerry Stackhouse, recovering from knee surgery, would serve as a veteran presence once he returned to action.
Gilbert blossomed in his new surroundings in the 2003-04 campaign, scoring a triple-double in his forth game as a Wizard. His goal each time down the floor was to get into the paint, and either go to the rim or dish off. He became adept at shooting off pick-and-rolls and screens, and after a couple of months, NBA defenders learned that they were better off laying back and conceding the 20-foot jumper. This is where Gilbert got into a trouble sometimes. A streaky shooter, he rarely passed when he was feeling it, and subsequently took his teammates out of the offense. When the shot wasn’t there, his fellow Wizards did not always move without the ball. Coach Jordan encouraged Gilbert to think about scoring, but reminded him he also had to ignite the offense in other ways.
At season’s end, the Wizards had fallen from 37 wins to 25, but the team’s fortunes were looking up. Hughes stayed relatively healthy and played well, Stackhouse contributed after his February return, and role players Brendan Haywood, Juan Dixon, Etan Thomas and Jarvis Hayes logged valuable minutes. Gilbert led the Wizards in scoring at 19.6 ppg, and reached the 40-point plateau twice. In a game against the Lakers, he equaled the franchise mark with eight three-pointers.
The friendship between Gilbert and Hughes was another important developmen. The NBA’s version of the Odd Couple, the two young stars found plenty of common ground, both on and off the court. Gilbert is the smiling, gregarious guy who wears his emotions on his sleeve. Hughes is the quiet, serious type, who likes his privacy, his family, and the occasional night out with a rap star.
They say every successful NBA team needs three go-to guys. In Gilbert and Hughes, Washington had two. Prior to the 2004-05 season, Grunfeld picked up a third—another ex-Warrior, Jamison. The Big Three performed as hoped, with Gilbert and Jamison making the All-Star squad, and Hughes leading the league in steals and being named to the NBA All-Defensive First Team. Several players battled injuries, including Hughes, who missed 20 games with a broken finger, and Brown, with a broken foot. But talent and teamwork steadied the boat whenever it reached troubled waters. The Wizards went 45-37 to finish with their best record in 26 years.
Gilbert ended the year averaging 25.5 points, 5.1 assists and 4.7 rebounds a game. With Hughes going for 22 a night, Washington featured the highest-scoring backcourt in the league.
Washington’s #5 seed in the playoffs earned them a shot at the young Chicago Bulls, who ambushed the Wizards in the first two games of the series. Washington came back to knot the series at 2-2, and seemed to have Game 5 locked up when the Bulls made a 10-0 run to even the score 110-110 with fiveseconds left. Gilbert responded with a dramatic buzzer-beater from 14 feet out.
In Game 6, Gilbert was ice cold, shooting just 25% from the floor, but he made the game-turning play on defense. With two minutes left and Chicago up by four, Kirk Hinrich stole the ball from Hughes and drove the other way all alone. Gilbert broke toward his basket as soon as he saw the play developing, and soared through the air to tip Hinrich's shot away. The defensive gem ignited a 7-0 run for Washington, which triumphed 94-91.
Next up came Shaquille O’Neal, Dwyane Wade and the Miami Heat. Without a solid center, the Wizards were helpless against Shaq, and no one could stop Wade, either. Miami took the first three games easily. In Game 4, the Wizards found themselves on the short end again, down 13 points in the fourth quarter, their season just minutes away from its conclusion. But with one last, great gasp, Washington pulled it together and roared back into the lead—only for a moment, as they ultimately lost 99-95. No one likes to be swept out of the playoffs, but that final run put an exclamation point on a season that the players could be proud of.
For the Wizards to continue their improvement, re-signing Hughes will be a key. So is getting some value for Brown, a restricted free agent who wore out his welcome during the playoffs.
As for Gilbert’s nickname, how about “Triple C”—competitive, charismatic and combustible. Or maybe it’s better to keep things simple. After his breakout '04-05 season, he has earned the right to be called just plain “Gil the Thrill.”
GILBERT THE PLAYER
Very few NBA stars can legitimately boast Gilbert's combination of skills. He has excellent range on his jumper, can nail the mid-range pull-up and can dunk over most players in the league. As a point guard, his penetrate-and-pass style works well with slashers like Antawn Jamison and Larry Hughes. Because Hughes can also handle the ball, Washington opponents must be wary of the two switching roles, with Hughes driving and Gilbert cutting to the basket or waiting on the wing for the ball to be kicked out to him.
Gilbert is a relentless attacker. Whether he is hot or cold, he comes at you the same way. Unafraid of fellow guards, he instead studies the defensive tendencies of the forwards and centers he is likely to encounter after shaking off his primary defender. He jumps into the shot blockers and pulls up against the wide-body defenders, ensuring him either of a trip to the foul line or an open look at the rim.
Gilbert is a smart defender who is conscious of beating his man to a spot, and he rarely reaches in to pick up cheap fouls. Most of his steals come from playing the passing lanes. He has also become adept at slapping the ball away from big men when they put it on the floor.
Gilbert is a student of the game. He attended the 2004 playoffs with Eddie Jordan and they watched how Jason Kidd orchestrated the New jersey offense—the same Princeton offense the Wizards run. Gilbert learned enough to cut his turnovers from more than four per game to less than three in one season. His dedication to improve also extended to his personal life. Gilbert has stopped clubbing, choosing to distance himself from the partying that beckons young studs in the NBA. This kind of maturity will be crucial if the Wizards hope to join the league's elite teams.
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