The adrenaline rush in the NBA often pushes players beyond their limits. Emotions fly, tempers explode, and sometimes, things go too far. Think back to when Latrell Sprewell choked his coach or when Ron Artest charged into the stands during the “Malice at the Palace,” even the recent confrontation between Giannis and Tyrese Haliburton’s father. These are just a couple of moments that show how players, fans, or coaches can lose their self-control and end up shaping league history. While Artest’s 86-game ban was the longest suspension ever, another case would later shake the NBA even deeper, and this time, it involved guns.

The new Netflix feature, Untold: Shooting Guards, uncovers the tension between Gilbert Arenas and Javaris Crittenton. A simple card game on a flight turned hostile, leading to both players bringing guns into the locker room. At the time, both were on the Washington Wizards roster. The incident was so serious that it sparked a federal investigation. Now, years later, the documentary walks viewers through each detail, showing how off-court stress can sometimes explode into chaos. The documentary stirred up old memories, but it also brought new secrets to light that many fans had never heard—until now.

In the documentary, during one instance, Gilbert Arenas shared how he didn’t see the long suspension coming. “I read through every gun situation that ever happened in the NBA, and all that stuff. So three game… max. Seven games, I’ll consider.” However, when David Stern announced the season-long suspension for both players, he was caught off guard. This led him to come to a realization that he had never shared before. In his words, “The real reason I think I was suspended for 50 games was the idea of how I got the guns to Washington, DC. And what it was is, I was using NBA planes to, the words they use “traffic guns” from Arizona to Virginia, to my home.” That secret, he said, was one the NBA never wanted out. Oops!

Earlier in the documentary, he had revealed his fascination with guns and collecting them. According to Arenas, “I had 460-something guns. I mean, you’re talking about Steet Sweepers, AK-47s from the, you know, the 60s. I had them for… for collection.” This hobby was inspired during his college time. His then-girlfriend’s father was an avid gun collector. So when he made it to the big leagues, he started to collect guns himself.

He even revealed how he used to get the guns- “So whenever we landed in Phoenix, first thing I do, go to the gun place, get it put it on the bus get in the airport, and the boom, we’re gone. For the most part, no one even knew I had them.” It turns out, according to Arenas, it was due to, that this was the real reason the league handed down such a harsh punishment.

Gilbert Arenas shares how the suspension affected him years after the fallout

For Gilbert Arenas, the fallout from one mistake went far beyond a suspension. It cut deep into his identity. The man once nicknamed “Agent Zero” didn’t just lose his role in the league; he lost his joy for the game. After the 2009 gun incident, Arenas tried returning to basketball. But even 24 games with the Wizards couldn’t restore what was broken. By the time he reached Orlando, his career had already started slipping away.

On The Pivot Podcast, Arenas spoke with raw honesty about what he faced afterward. “It took a toll on me, right? I’m not even going to lie. Like, I really hated the world,” he admitted. Despite giving his all for teammates and playing through injuries, he felt misunderstood. What hurt most wasn’t just the punishment, it was being labeled as someone he never intended to be. “Worst-case scenario, I’m like ‘Dennis the Menace,’ right?” he said, trying to make sense of how fast public opinion turned.

The emotional weight became overwhelming. Arenas explained how it affected his mental health, leading to a point where he couldn’t even stomach the idea of playing. He grew out his hair and refused public appearances, hoping to escape the harsh spotlight. “Y’all not gonna put this face on the billboards no more,” he told himself, frustrated by the judgment that never seemed to end.

What most people didn’t know was that beneath the headlines was a friendship, not a rivalry. Arenas never meant to threaten or intimidate Crittenton. “We eat dinner together, we’re in each other’s room—that’s my guy,” he said, describing a bond that had been twisted by media coverage. For him, it was a bluff gone wrong, not a violent outburst.

In time, Arenas found a new voice. Now a successful podcast host, he’s reclaimed his narrative. But the scars of that chapter still linger.