Pistols And Punishment: The NBA And Handguns

by Abe Wyett

A polarized country, and thousands upon thousands of deaths, are rooted in eight words: “the right of the people to bear arms.” That right, the right to own weapons, may be the United States’ most contentious debate. The NRA waves copies of our Constitution. Anti-gun activists respond with slogans like “it could be your kids today.” In the meantime, gun violence persists like a modern-day plague, claiming 43,000 deaths per year, 116 per day.  Nowhere we go seems fully safe. Not even movie theaters. Not even schools.

The plague spares no one. Not even highly paid sports stars. Take a look at Ja Morant, the high-flying, 23-year-old NBA superstar, who recently inked a 5-year $194,300,000 contract with the Memphis Grizzlies. He seemingly can’t resist the lure of a gun.

Allow me to explain. On March 4th, during a road trip in Denver, the NBA’s young fanbase wasn’t only treated to images of Morant soaring through the air, posterizing his opponents. Through images Morant streamed on his Instagram, they also saw him at a Colorado strip club, aptly titled Shotgun Willie’s, cheerfully flashing a handgun for his near 10 million followers as he received a lapdance, deep in heaps of cash. The NBA handed its young libertine an 8-game suspension. After serving his suspension and briefly attending a rehabilitation facility, Morant spearheaded the Grizzlies to second in the Western Conference.

That should have been that. But it wasn’t. On May 13th, Morant and his handgun were back on Instagram, in a car with a friend, waving the firearm  and singing loudly to rapper YoungBoy Never Broke. This time, the NBA took its time to deliberate. On June 16, after several weeks of deliberation, NBA commissioner Adam Silver announced that the Memphis star would sit out the first 25 games of the upcoming 2023-2024 season.

It seemed an appropriate response. But was it? Because nothing Morant had done on the Instagram feed–or elsewhere–was illegal. Nor did he break a single NBA rule—at least technically. His suspension, according to the official NBA statement, was triggered primarily by “The potential for other young people to emulate Ja’s conduct,” which the league finds “particularly concerning.”

In 2009, the NBA suspended Gilbert Arenas 50 games — twice Morant’s suspension — for having multiple guns in the locker room. Arenas allegedly used one of these guns to threaten teammate Javaris Crittenton, who supposedly owed him money. While the story of Arenas’ suspension and subsequent demise are well known, fewer people know or care what happened to Crittenton. But it’s a harrowing tale about gun violence. Two years after the locker room incident, Crittenton, a gang member, murdered a mother of four. He was later charged with manslaughter and sentenced to 23 years in prison.

To round out this hall of shame, remember the case of Plaxico Burress, who shot himself in the leg at a nightclub. The NFL suspended the star Giants’ receiver for four games—roughly equivalent to Morant’s suspension, one quarter of a season.

Three players. Three suspensions. But the reasons behind those three suspensions differ. In Arenas’ case, the punishment seemed to come from a desire to protect the NBA and its reputation. “The possession of a firearm by an NBA player in an NBA arena is a matter of utmost concern for us,” declared former NBA Commissioner David Stern. This year, 14 years later, Commissioner Silver suspended Morant for the good of the country: to prevent young kids and adults from “emulating” Morant’s behavior, to challenge the United States’ gun-crazed culture.

Still, the question remains: Is it right to suspend a player who has committed no violations, done nothing illegal? Arenas broke the NBA code. Burress broke the law. Morant did neither. Can a league — or any employer — expect its employees to adhere to moral standards that go well beyond those enforceable by law? Oftentimes, the answer is no, especially if the behavior in question does not impact employee performance.

But guns are a different story. This centuries-long love affair with firearms, even if sanctioned by the Second Amendment, is tearing the country apart. There are currently more guns in America than there are citizens. With much of the NBA’s fanbase being kids — and firearms being the leading cause of death in children and teens —the NBA’s decisions on Morant are not only warranted, but necessary.

There is a chance the tactic might backfire. Those teenage kids who idolize Morant might resent the NBA and imitate his gun-toting out of spite. Here the media, educators, and parents can chip in, helping kids to understand that the same guns that flash so seductively in videos and Instagram posts can and do cut short thousands of young lives each year.

There will be those who believe Morant’s suspension unjust, that a player shouldn’t lose part of his livelihood for engaging in legal activity. On its own, it’s an acceptable argument. But with gun violence surging, the NBA saw a chance to make a difference. And they did. Other leagues should follow their example. Because millions of kids are watching.

Abe Wyett is a rising sophomore at Brown University. He blogs at www.awaygames.org