The facts were scary enough, and the rumors only made them sound worse. Delonte West drove a three-wheeled motorcycle late at night with three guns, one of them a shotgun that was loaded into a guitar case. Where he was going, the media did not know. But it was illegal to carry concealed weapons and to transport loaded weapons in Maryland, and whatever West was doing, it seemed undoubtedly sinister.

It actually wasn’t, West told SLAM Magazine during a recent interview. While he never should have been driving the guns, his intentions that night were not at all violent. (SLAM Magazine — READ THIS PIECE)

Delonte West is an avid outdoorsman, likes to hunt and fish in the backwoods of Virginia, but that’s not really why he owned the guns. Like many nouveau riche athletes, he had hammers because he could afford them. The same way money buys cars and clothes and comfort, it also buys guns. It’s the American way.

After the ’09 season ended with his Cavaliers getting knocked out by the Orlando Magic in the Conference Finals, West returned home to Maryland and set about finding a good place to store the weapons, which he saw more as collector’s items. He chose the recording studio.

Tucked away in his fully finished basement, West’s studio is his sanctuary. Off limits to children, the sparsely furnished wood paneled room is his home within his home. All of that’s why he thought it was the perfect stash spot. Everything was fine—the guns remained safely hidden—until, on the night of September 17, feeling unusually tired, West went to his bedroom pretty early, took his nightly dose of Seroquel (a drug that treats bipolar disorder) and got in bed. Shortly after falling asleep, he was startled awake by shouting.

“Ma Dukes came running upstairs into my room, cursing me, saying she wanted all these MFers out of my house,” recalls West. “I came to like, What’s going on? I was already on my Seroquel trip. A few of my cats had found some stuff in the studio and they were living the whole gangsta life thing—guns in the air and this and that,” continues West. “And I said, ‘Oh my God. What the fuck are y’all doin’ in here? Y’all got to go. Momma ain’t on that. Kids are running around upstairs. It’s time to go.’”

Gassed up from the commotion, West decided it would be prudent for him to relocate the guns to an empty house he owned nearby. So, with his other vehicles blocked in by guests’ cars, and expecting it to be a short trip, he haphazardly loaded up his Can-Am and placed the weapons in a Velcro-type of bag—“not a desperado, hardcase, gun-shooting-out-the-side type case”—and set off.

“I’m on the Beltway, cruisin’,” West says, voice high, emotional and inimitable. “Soon I start realizing I’m dozing in and out. I open my eyes and I went from this lane to that. I’m swervin’, and by the time I wake up, I’m about three exits past my exit.

“There’s this truck flying beside me—” West pauses; this next part is crucial—“and I’m scared to death. So I seen an officer coming up and I try to flag him down. I pull up next to him. He slows down and I get up in front of him. I tell the officer I’m not functioning well and I’m transporting weapons… The rest of the story is what it is.

“I’m not proud of it,” concludes West, “but it looks way worse than it was.”

West played all last season under home detention, meaning he wore an electronic anklet until four months ago. Four times per day last season, West needed to alert a probation officer of his whereabouts. On the road, West often couldn’t leave his hotel room. Sometimes, home detention kept him from arriving at practice early or staying late. It kept him from joining his team at certain team-bonding activities. And when he broke his wrist against the New Jersey Nets and needed to drive straight to the hospital, West later received a phone call from his probation office.

“If something happens on the way to the hospital, I don’t know where you’re at, so you better call in advance next time,” the officer told West.

West is now free, anklet-less, and, well, just read SLAM’s story. If you’re a Delonte West fan, you’ll really like it.

At some point last season — maybe it was when he returned from injury, or when he started protecting the basket like it was his only daughter, or when I learned he swatted shots and grabbed rebounds all with a broken wrist — Jermaine O’Neal won his way into my heart. His body wasn’t built for this anymore, it wasn’t built for 82 game schedules and back-to-back games and bumping and grinding in the low post, but O’Neal proved himself to be tough, a winner, a player who would give until his body wouldn’t let him give anymore.

The body is still the issue, and  it could keep him from playing further than this next season. In an interview with CSNNE, O’Neal admitted he will likely retire after the 2011-’12 season. (CSNNE)

Jermaine O’Neal told CSNNE.com that, barring an unexpected change of heart, which he says is unlikely, this will be his last season. …

“I’m going into my 16th year, so I know my time is near,” O’Neal said. “I know someday the ball is going to go flat; you have to plan for life after basketball and that’s what I have been doing.” …

“I have a 5-year-old son and a 12-year-old girl,” he said. “They want to spend a lot of time with Daddy. At this point in my career, it doesn’t make sense to go overseas and play for half-a-season. I want to be able to be ready and be fully prepared mentally and physically for what may be my last season.” …

“You never say never, but like I said earlier, my kids are getting older,” he said. “The only thing left that I want to do in this league is win a championship. That’s why I came to Boston last year, because I felt this was the best place for me to do that: Win a championship.”

O’Neal is not the first Celtic to be linked to possible retirement — Kevin Garnett said he can see the end of his career approaching, Ray Allen, 36 years old though aging quite slowly, likely won’t be around for too much longer, and Paul Pierce, though younger than Garnett and Allen, is already on the down slope of his Hall of Fame career. There will be an exodus of retirements within the next handful of years, and the Celtics will transform into the unrecognizable, a team devoid of the Big Three and reliant on Rajon Rondo — and hopefully another All-Star or two — to light the path into the future.

After admitting his plan to retire, O’Neal noted that only one goal remains unaccomplished on his career checklist: winning an NBA championship.

“For me now, it’s not about scoring or statistics,” O’Neal said. “I’ve proven that I can score in this league, do a lot of good things. For me now, it’s all about winning, being part of a winner. That’s my motivation.”

Perhaps he’s delusional to consider the Celtics championship contenders. They were smacked around by the Heat last season, they have just seven players on a roster that’s already over the salary cap, eight if you count E’Twaun Moore, whose contract is not guaranteed, and most significantly, the core that led Boston back to relevance, the core that won one championship and came minutes from another, is one year older. The NBA landscape is passing the Big Three Boston Celtics by; if they did not pass the Eastern Conference torch to the Miami Heat last season, Lebron James ripped it from their wrinkly fingers and battered them over the head with it.

But there’s always hope. What if Kevin Garnett returns just as mobile as he was last season? What if Ray Allen continues to stiff-arm the aging process? What if Paul Pierce holds his slow decline to a crawl? What if the Celtics re-sign Delonte West, fill out the rest of their bench with shooters, rebounders and knowledgeable defenders, and somehow, improbably, miraculously, arrive at the playoffs without a list of injuries longer than this column?

If everything goes right, if Danny Ainge makes the right moves, if the Big Three remain near the top of their games, if Jermaine O’Neal and the rest of his teammates somehow coax health out of bodies that aren’t necessarily built for this anymore, this 82 games of grinding and bumping and bruising and running and jumping, then the Celtics have a shot at winning a championship. Then O’Neal could retire on top, and the slew of retirements to follow in the coming years would be less painful.

If only everything goes right.

When Delonte West tweeted about submitting an application to Home Depot, I decided not to post the “news.” Without confirmation otherwise, I figured West’s tweet was a prank. After all, West is the same person who rapped about KFC and called himself The Golden Panther throughout one entire interview.

But West was serious about the Home Depot application, or at least he says he was. (ESPN TrueHoop)

Earlier this week, West tweeted that he was applying for a job at Home Depot, and the seven-year vet says that’s not the only retail job he’s looking into.

“I actually might have work with Sam’s [Club], BJ’s, selling knives,” West said. “That’s pretty cool too. I get a microphone and everything.”

He would get a microphone at Sam’s, but Home Depot might offer more perks.

“You gotta get with it, do something that you love,” West said. “I’m an architect, I was an art major. At Home Depot, I get free discount on hammers and nails.”

Maybe it’s time for the NBA lockout to end.

I care that Jeff Green traveled to the White House to meet with a crew of wounded veterans called the Wounded Warriors. It’s a kind gesture from Green and obviously a wonderful cause. Green should be commended for his work in the community, and especially because he offered his time to soldiers who risked their lives for our country, soldiers who now need wheelchairs to play basketball.

But when it comes to rooting for basketball players (programming note: I’m going to sound quite cold-hearted in three… two… one…), I root for their athletic prowess and on-court mentality, not the extent of their community service. Hell, sometimes I don’t even need a reason to root for one player or root against another one. Cheering for sports teams and players can become confusing.

Producing on the court or on the field is the best way to earn praise. That’s why Albert Haynesworth has a chance to become a Gillette fan favorite, even though the former Pro Bowl defensive lineman is, by all accounts, a king-sized dunce. Judging by my Facebook feed, Chad Ochocinco has already become a fan favorite, the oversized personality with a smile as quick as his first step, even though he comes to Foxboro with a reputation as a locker room distraction. Manny Ramirez was a king in Boston until his oddities began to outweigh his fierce bat, Rajon Rondo’s a king although the Celtics once nearly traded him for behavioral issues, and fans could always overlook Glen Davis’s quirkiness until his production started to dwindle.

Then there’s Kevin Garnett, who could commit five or six murders and still be on my A-list of players to root for. I would even root for Garnett if he possessed all the talent of Mikki Moore, because Garnett plays the game like a lion would — you know, if lions could play basketball. Hell, he plays the game like Nicky Santoro.

Santoro was the muscle man in Casino. Watching that movie last night for the first time (I fell asleep in the middle of it, so don’t spoil anything — yes, I feel a little bit like my father when I pass out during the middle of a movie, and no, that’s never a good thing), I was taken aback when Santoro stabbed someone to death (or close to it) with a pen (I think), all because the person had called Santoro’s friend Ace Rothstein an asshole. I can’t quite envision Garnett stabbing someone to death with a pen (he prefers the ball-tap method of violence), but when Rothstein began to describe Santoro, I kept thinking of Number Five.

“You beat Nicky with fists, he comes back with a bat,” said Rothstein. “You beat him with a knife, he comes back with a gun. And if you beat him with a gun, you better kill him, because he’ll keep coming back and back until one of you is dead.”

Delonte West lives by the Nicky Santoro rules, too, and I don’t say that to open a discussion about his gun charges. I meant to say that West plays basketball by the Nicky Santoro rules. Celtics fans immediately forgave the lefty for his crimes, for allegedly meeting Lebron James’s mother for entertainment purposes (how’s that for a euphemism?), and for missing three quarters of the season due to injury. We forgave Delonte for all his past digressions because we knew that when Dwyane Wade beat Delonte with his fists during the playoffs, Delonte would come back with a bat. The bat might not always connect, but if Delonte goes down, he goes down swinging (pun intended). He’s no J.D. Drew.

As you already knew, choosing players to root for can be a complicated process. I liked Scal because he was goofy and I disliked Andrew DeClerq for the same reason. I liked Stephon Marbury because he was interesting and outspoken, but Sam Cassell’s personality bothered me to no end. I disliked Nate Robinson for his “whenever and wherever” shot selection, but I still hold a soft spot in my heart for Antoine Walker. I loathed Tony Allen because he took too many chances and I was lukewarm on Marquis Daniels because he didn’t take enough.

Maybe I should like Jeff Green because he helps wounded soldiers, and I definitely admire what he did. But when it comes to rooting for sports figures, I prefer Nicky Santoro to Mother Teresa. Or sometimes, I just prefer Scal.

Yesterday, Delonte West’s agent publicly stated West’s desire to return to the Boston Celtics. (ESPN)

“Delonte was drafted by Boston and he has a special place for Boston because of that,” said his agent Jarinn Akana of Lagardere Unlimited. “He spent some good years there, then came back last year and was able to play, but had injuries here and there. He did contribute, but he wanted to contribute more and help Boston advance further. Of course he’d like to be back, I think that’s his No. 1 goal to be back and help Boston win another championship.”

A year ago, Delonte West was a jilted man. The Cavaliers traded him. The Timberwolves released him. Few teams wanted him. Even the Celtics, who finally signed him, offered a minimum, non-guaranteed contract that, for most players of West’s caliber, would have been akin to spitting chewing gum in their face.

But West’s situation was not normal. A ten-game suspension awaited him for gun charges. Rumors spun that he had splintered the Cavaliers locker room with an overactive, um, sexual agenda. His bout with bipolar disorder clouded his future and forced teams to reevaluate his worth. Considering that West signed a deal normally reserved for rookie free agents, the Celtics were one of few teams—maybe the only team—to offer West a contract.

And their faith didn’t end there. Danny Ainge called West one of his favorite players. Doc Rivers sung praise in a booming bass voice. The players, a few of whom become friends with West during his first stint in Boston, formed a support group. Even after West fought Von Wafer in practice, Boston’s faith never wavered, at least publicly. Rivers and Ainge called the argument overblown and stood by their beleaguered backup guard.

Now West will hit the free agent market whenever the lockout ends. After an incident-short season followed by a terrific playoff run, he will have other options. Some offers will probably contain more money than the Celtics can offer him. Others might offer West a better chance of winning a title (that sucks to write, but it’s true). But Boston stayed with West when his chips were down and the rest of the NBA world shunned him. They kept faith in him when doing so didn’t necessarily seem intelligent.

I understand I would be naive to think that West’s two-way basketball abilities did not factor into Boston’s willingness to forgive all prior transgressions. Talent always matters. But not every other team bet on West when the river came and he was left with very few outs. The Celtics did. And now West’s free agency decision could pit loyalty against money. We know he wants to stay in Boston. Let’s just hope he does.

Even after Delonte West’s worst regular season since his rookie campaign, NBA front offices know West can compete with anyone in the NBA. Pit him against Dwyane Wade and West likely will not win the head-to-head matchup. But West will stand toe-to-toe with Wade and force the All-Star to earn every point he scores, and West will attack Wade on the other end of the court, and West will never, ever display even the slightest fear. West is not an All-Star, not even close, but his versatility and competitiveness make him a valuable bench player, one NBA teams should covet whenever the NBA lockout ends.

All of which could spell bad news for the Boston Celtics. If a hard cap is agreed upon (which could very well happen), the salary-laden Celtics could be limited to offering West a contract beginning at less than $2 million per season. Even if the new CBA includes certain salary exceptions (such as the mid-level exception), the Celtics could need to add several pieces using mostly minimum contracts.

Despite West’s non-productive regular season, his strong playoff run and solid on-court reputation will make him attractive to other teams. The predominant red flag attached to signing West (his mental health) proved to be a non-issue last season. That was great for the Celtics during the year, of course, but could haunt them as soon as West hits the free agent marketplace.

West’s season began with a left hook—or a right hook, or a strong jab, or an uppercut, or whatever form of punch he used to swing at Von Wafer. In the aftermath of the quasi-fight, one of West’s teammates was quoted saying he could easily notice when West did not take his medicine. Even if it seemed like nothing more than the pissed-off Wafer’s distorted form of revenge, Celtics fans inhaled sharply at the news—maybe West’s recent history of personal issues and mental illness would follow him to Boston, too.

Our fears were not realized—the subdued brawl was the last off-court bruise West’s reputation endured last season. After the fight, he sought no problems and landed himself into no trouble. Or, at least, none that became public knowledge. As far as we know, West did not sleep with any of his teammates’ mothers, transport unregistered firearms via three-wheeled motorcycles, nor did he run into any other forms of off-court trouble.

By the end of the season, I even stopped worrying that West would relapse into bad behavior or a depressive state. That was a big step. After reading some comments West told Ken Berger of CBS Sports earlier in the year, my worries had climbed to new heights.

“Bipolar is like, when things are bad to you, they seem worse and when things are good, they seem great,” West said in November of 2010.

After those comments, I feared for West’s sanity every time he experienced a setback. He missed a potentially game-winning shot and I wondered whether it would bother him for weeks. He broke a wrist and I thought the anguish might suffocate him. He injured his wrist again, this time during dummy drills, and I thought maybe all the adversity would be too much for West to handle. He played sparingly due to injuries and suspension, and when he did play, he played erratically. But he remained a professional.

So much went wrong this year for Delonte West, but as far as we know, West kept his head up every time life tried to knock him down. There was the suspension, and the Wafer fight, and the injuries. West played only 24 regular season games, but he kept moving forward. He averaged fewer points than any season besides his rookie year, but he was ready to contribute in the playoffs. West’s body was unreliable and his performance was underwhelming, but Doc Rivers’ faith in his lefty guard never wavered.

Meanwhile, West remained a fan favorite. We still rooted for West, even after that late-night drive equipped with multiple guns, a three-wheeled motorcycle and some powerful inner demons. We quickly forgave West’s crimes for a number of reasons:

1) He has a mental illness, a real sickness that impairs his judgment. Though West’s mental illness does not excuse his actions, we could sympathize with him even when he committed such sinister acts.

2) He’s on our team. If we could root for Ricky Davis and Mark Blount, cheering for a convicted felon shouldn’t be too tough, right? Even when we don’t like a player on our team, we root for him. That’s how sports go. We all hate Lebron now, but if he signed with the Celtics, every C’s fan would rush to buy his new jersey. Hell, I would root for Satan if he wore “Celtics” across his chest.

3) This last reason is the one I feel least comfortable about, even if I believe it to be true: We can forgive our favorite athletes for off-court sins. We cannot forgive them for on-court transgressions. Los Angeles Lakers fans can forgive Kobe Bryant’s infidelity. Steelers fans can forgive Ben Roethlisberger for assaulting girls. Ravens fans can forgive Ray Lewis for being involved with a murder. Celtics fans can forgive West for carrying guns. But I cannot, and will not, ever forgive Nate Robinson for shooting so many goddamn pull-up jumpers on three-on-one fast breaks.

Robinson seems like a great guy. He always smiles, cheers his ass off for his teammates no matter how few minutes he plays, takes adorable pictures of his children, and shows up to his cousin’s high school basketball games on off days. He plays hard and plays with energy, and loves to have fun. In real life, I would want him as my friend. But in the world of sports, he frustrated me to no end. He rode the basketball slow bus, possessing a basketball IQ that left him taking stupid shots quite routinely. Watching Robinson play for your favorite team is like playing roulette and putting all your life savings on 34. There is a 3% chance you hit the lottery and luck into early retirement. But there’s also a 97% chance you lose everything. Okay, so I’m being a little harsh with the percentages. You get the point. And so I hated Robinson when he played for the Celtics, even though he seems like a hell of a guy.

West is so much different. He makes intelligent decisions. He knows how to defend. He plays hard, like Robinson, but in a different way. Robinson, you see, plays with the energy of a six-year old kid going to the circus for the first time. West plays with the energy of a rising UFC fighter looking to put food on his family’s table. He’s more precise, more focused, more refined, and when it comes to winning, hungrier. As fans, we are drawn to West’s thirsty desire to win. That he also has a personable, quirky side brings him even closer to our hearts. I’m not saying it’s right and I’m not saying it’s wrong, but we love fierce competitors and we love intelligent players, even if they have committed serious crimes in their past, even when they play their worst regular season since 2004-05.

And so do NBA front offices. They will be willing to overlook West’s past partly because he stayed out of trouble recently, but mostly, they will be willing to overlook West’s past because he plays both ends of the court. Whichever team signs West after the lockout will add a nice piece, and a piece that should come attached to a reasonably inexpensive price tag. Here’s hoping that team is the Boston Celtics, who could start the West race with a monetary disadvantage but could certainly use the lefty’s services.