Gold standard

A 2001 Monte Carlo sits in the garage of Gilbert Arenas’ upscale digs in Great Falls. Arenas does not need the vehicle. He never drives it. It just sits in his garage collecting dust, although he has re-painted it, equipped it with a larger engine and added new upholstery and rims.

Darnell McCondichie, Arenas’ childhood buddy, has given the thumbs-up sign to the changes.

“It does look better than when I had it,” he says.

The vehicle was McCondichie’s pride and joy until he lost it to Arenas in a game of Halo 2 on Xbox in Los Angeles last summer.

Arenas pretended to be a novice at the video game until he and McCondichie agreed to bet their respective vehicles on it: a Cadillac Escalade vs. the Monte Carlo, straight-up.

“He beat me real bad,” McCondichie says. “It wasn’t even close.”

Arenas had his newly secured possession shipped to the District and has been thoughtful enough to send photographs of it to his buddy this year. Or perhaps those photographs are the basketball equivalent of a taunt.

“Darnell has a year-long bus pass,” Arenas says with a proud grin.

That is not really true, of course.

McCondichie used public transportation for a spell before purchasing a 2005 Yukon.

“He even offered to lend the Monte Carlo back to me to help me out,” McCondichie says. “But I had too much pride for that. He is just being retarded.”

This is the off-beat world of Arenas away from the court.

He is a likable, genuine fellow who has remained true to his modest beginnings, even as the NBA exploits of the two-time All-Star guard of the Washington Wizards have proceeded at an accelerated rate.

He has eschewed the usual trappings of NBA stardom. He wears no bling-bling, has no omnipresent tattoos and lacks the requisite entourage. He lives alone in his 10-bedroom, 10-bathroom estate, far enough removed from the urban core.

“I have to be out of the city,” Arenas says. “I need the space.”

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