One of your teammates, a guy who plays the same position as you, was robbed at gunpoint in his gated community at 4 a.m. last week.

(Don’t ask what athletes are doing out at 4 am – how many late nights did you have at 23? How many more would you have had if you had a few more bucks in your pocket?)

The unknown assailant jacked your teammate of his jewelry and cash. What was said during the robbery is unknown, but it might have gone something like this: We know you rich athletes have money and ice, and we want it, and we’re willing to die tryin’.

You’re aware of this robbery, so the next time you go out, you’re going to be strapped. And why wouldn’t you be? You were packing heat when you lived in Florida, and even had a license for it. Presumably, you know how to use a weapon. Your teammate who got robbed makes considerably less money than you, and your $35 million deal was plastered in every newspaper in the tri-state region, so the nefarious individuals on the streets know you’re loaded.

You don’t want to be the next Antonie Walker, Rashard Mendanhall, or worse yet, Dunta Robinson, tied up in your own home, children and girlfriend shoved in the closet, while criminals rob the joint. So you get yourself some protection.

Should Plax have paid for his own security? Sure. But many athletes feel as if they are bulletproof and can handle themselves. Should Plax have had the weapon cocked in public? Of course not. Is he a fool? Definitely. But three and a half years for protecting yourself? Seems absurd to us. That gun goes off and kills somebody in the club? Well, that didn’t happen. It’s like the idiot who drives home drunk, putting the lives of everyone else on the road at risk. Luckily, the driver only ran into a wall and hurt himself, and nobody else.

* Full disclosure: After years of being completely anti-gun, we flip-flopped and bought a gun several months ago. Mostly as a hedge against armageddon. Enter laugh here. No carry permit yet.