No player wore it. No championship was won with it. Number 6 hangs in the rafters of Golden 1 Center for a different reason than any other retired number in Sacramento Kings history — it belongs to the fans. The ARCO Army. The people who packed into that old arena night after night, made it one of the loudest buildings in professional basketball, and gave the Kings a home-court advantage that opposing players genuinely dreaded facing.
The retirement of #6 is the franchise's formal acknowledgment of something every Sacramento fan has always known: that the crowd at a Kings home game is not a backdrop to the sport — it is a participant in it. The noise, the energy, the belief that Sacramento fans brought to every home game during the Kings' greatest era made the team better, made individual players perform above their normal level, and made Golden 1 Center and its predecessor ARCO Arena into places where visiting teams genuinely suffered.
The ARCO Army: Building One of the NBA's Greatest Fan Cultures
The Sacramento Kings have never won an NBA Championship in their Sacramento era. They have had years of winning and years of rebuilding. Through all of it — the Mitch Richmond seasons of individual brilliance without team success, the magical early 2000s run with Chris Webber, the long rebuilding years that followed, and the playoff return in 2023 — Sacramento fans showed up. The consistency of that showing up, regardless of what the team gave them in return, is what the retired number 6 recognizes.
The ARCO Arena era produced some of the most electric home atmospheres in NBA history. During the 2001-02 season, when the Kings were one of the best teams in basketball, ARCO Arena was considered among the loudest buildings in the sport. Players who visited described the noise as disorienting. Officials acknowledged the pressure the crowd placed on every call. The Sacramento fan base was not just enthusiastic — it was effective, in the way that only truly devoted crowds can be.
What the Number Six Means in Basketball
The number 6 carries a specific meaning in basketball: the sixth man is the first player off the bench, the one who provides a spark when the starters need relief, the one whose contribution is felt even when the box score does not fully capture it. When the Kings retired #6 for their fans, they were making an explicit statement: Sacramento's crowd is our sixth man. Their energy, their noise, and their belief have been part of what this franchise is for as long as we have played in this city.
It is a tribute that other franchises have offered their fans as well — Cleveland, Toronto, and others have used similar gestures to acknowledge their fan base. But in Sacramento, where the relationship between the team and its city has always felt particularly intimate, the retirement of #6 carries special resonance. This is a mid-market city that has fought to keep its team, celebrated through thin years and thick ones, and built a fan culture that has earned recognition from across the league.
Why the Kings Retired #6
The Sacramento Kings retired number 6 because the fans of this franchise have earned it. Through seasons that tested their loyalty and seasons that rewarded it, Sacramento's basketball community never stopped showing up. They filled ARCO Arena when the Kings were losing and roared it to life when the Kings were winning, and in that second category — the winning seasons, the playoff runs, the near-miss of 2002 — the crowd was genuinely, measurably part of why the Kings were so difficult to beat at home.
Every retired number in the rafters belongs to someone who gave the Sacramento Kings franchise something irreplaceable. Number 6 acknowledges that the fans have been doing the same thing, night after night, for decades. The number hangs there as a reminder that this sport is a partnership — between players and fans, between the team and the city — and that Sacramento's side of that partnership has always been honored.
