For Jason of Beverly Hills, every championship ring began with a chance taken in Beverly Hills (Los Angeles Lakers)

Jordan Carroll - The Sporting Tribune

Jason Arasheben stands beside a display of championship rings created for teams across professional sports.

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- I recently sat in Jason Arasheben’s Beverly Hills office surrounded by championship rings he has designed for 20 title-winning teams since 2009. There were rings celebrating the Los Angeles Lakers, Los Angeles Rams, Golden State Warriors, Milwaukee Bucks, Tampa Bay Buccaneers, Boston Celtics, Denver Nuggets, Las Vegas Aces and Vegas Golden Knights, among others.

The newest addition was the Seattle Seahawks’ Super Bowl LX championship ring, an enormous creation encrusted with 20 carats of white diamonds and Seahawks blue sapphires. Fifty diamonds surrounding the team’s logo commemorate the franchise’s 50th season, while two Lombardi trophies represent its two Super Bowl championships. Press a button shaped like the 12 Flag and the arches of Lumen Field pop open to reveal the words “WORLD CHAMPIONS.” The top can also be removed and worn as a pendant.

It is believed to be the largest Super Bowl championship ring ever created.

As impressive as the collection was, Arasheben didn’t necessarily see diamonds, sapphires and gold when he looked at the rings filling his office. He saw the late nights, the rejection, the sleeping bags on a factory floor and the people who took a chance on him before he had done anything to justify their faith.

“You look at these rings and, yes, they’re expensive and they’re all sitting in one place,” Arasheben told me. “But all it does is remind me of how much we had to endure to be able to not only get the contract, but actually fulfill it. At the end of the day, I wouldn’t ask for anything else. I truly love what I do.”

As a fellow Iranian-American with “Arash” in our names, I have known about Jason Arasheben for the past 20 years even though our paths had never crossed. We are about the same age and grew up within a few miles of each other in the San Fernando Valley. I grew up in Woodland Hills and Calabasas before attending USC. He grew up in Granada Hills and Calabasas before attending UCLA.

We were both Lakers fans, but neither of us was going to become the next point guard for our favorite team. My pathway into sports was journalism. His began with plastic hair clips and inexpensive silver trinkets.

Arasheben was eight years old when his father introduced him to the Lakers and Magic Johnson. The games became a father-son ritual, and Arasheben quickly became the kind of fan who never missed a game and cried whenever the Lakers lost. He dreamed of playing professional basketball until he came to an honest assessment of his athletic abilities.

“I quickly realized I had no athletic ability whatsoever,” he said. “I can’t run, jump or shoot. I’m not very strong and I’m not very athletic. But I knew whatever I did, I wanted to be involved, particularly in the NBA.”

Arasheben entered UCLA planning to become an attorney and perhaps represent athletes. By his sophomore year, however, he had accumulated $28,000 in credit card debt while enjoying Los Angeles nightlife as if he were already one of those athletes.

“I was living like I was an NBA player,” he said.

He needed a way out. During a trip to the wholesale district in downtown Los Angeles with a friend, Arasheben saw vendors selling plastic hair clips and silver accessories for a fraction of what they cost in stores. He borrowed exactly $468 from his friend, purchased several dozen items and persuaded UCLA to let him sell them from a six-foot table on campus in exchange for 20% of his sales.

He sold $800 worth of merchandise on the first day.

Before long, Arasheben had tables on UCLA’s North and South campuses, followed by operations at USC, UC Santa Barbara, Cal State Los Angeles, Cal State Northridge and UC Irvine. He placed display cases inside more than 200 nail salons and hair salons between Los Angeles and San Diego, returning every two weeks to collect his share of the sales.

By his senior year, he had eliminated his debt and was making about as much as a first-year graduate of Harvard Law School. When he told his father that he would not attend law school, his father stopped speaking to him for two and a half years.

“In Persian culture, you better be an architect, an engineer, a doctor or a lawyer,” Arasheben said. “Those are your choices. Pick one. He didn’t feel like this was a real career. There was no future in it because I was peddling trinkets.”

Arasheben continued spending much of what he earned on tables at Los Angeles nightclubs, but what appeared to be reckless partying became an unconventional form of networking. His tables were often next to those of professional athletes and entertainers. He made it his nightly mission to introduce himself to at least 10 people, keeping count until he reached his goal.

He also began introducing himself as something he was not yet: a jeweler.

Arasheben would draw jewelry designs for athletes before approaching them at clubs. He knew almost nothing about diamonds and had never manufactured a piece of jewelry, but he understood the oversized chains and pendants NBA players were wearing and believed he could create something they would want.

After being rejected three times by former NBA player Anthony Mason, Arasheben approached him a fourth time. Mason finally agreed to meet with him at his hotel before a game against the Lakers. Arasheben arrived with a homemade catalog assembled from magazine clippings and printed photos.

Mason selected a piece and asked for the price. Arasheben, who had no idea what it would cost to make, said $40,000 and requested a $20,000 deposit. Mason wrote him a check on the spot.

Arasheben then went to the Los Angeles Jewelry District, knocked on doors and found someone who could make it. He earned only about $2,500 on the transaction, but he was finally in the jewelry business.

Word spread quickly through the NBA. By the 2003 draft, Arasheben had established relationships with many of the top prospects, including LeBron James and Carmelo Anthony. He eventually began working with hundreds of professional athletes and opened a private showroom in Beverly Hills, choosing the location because he viewed the city as the epicenter of luxury.

Jason of Beverly Hills was born.

A mutual friend, Gary Martin Zelman, the former chief executive of Revolution Eyewear and the man known for holding custom signs behind courtside television announcers at Lakers games, helped change the course of Arasheben’s career. After meeting Arasheben at a Lakers game, Zelman introduced him to Jesse Buss. That relationship eventually led to introductions to Joey Buss and their father, Dr. Jerry Buss.

Arasheben became close with the family and often sat with Dr. Buss in his library as the Lakers owner asked about his business and offered advice. When the Lakers won the 2009 NBA championship, Arasheben asked for an opportunity to pitch for the championship-ring contract.

Dr. Buss gave him the chance.

“He wanted an L.A. person to make the L.A. ring,” Arasheben said. “He wanted somebody who was passionate about the Lakers because he knew I would put that same passion into my work. He took a huge risk on me. Under no circumstances, if I were the owner of the Lakers, would I have given it to me. You’re risking your entire championship-ring program with this kid who had never done anything.”

Arasheben and his makeshift team worked around the clock, sleeping inside the factory as they raced to finish the rings before the nationally televised ceremony. The final player ring was completed 20 minutes before the presentation.

His father helped with the process and attended the ceremony with Arasheben’s mother.

“That was the moment I felt like I made it,” Arasheben said. “But it was also the moment that, for the first time, I felt like I made my dad proud.”

Arasheben also designed the Lakers’ 2010 championship ring. After the Lakers defeated the Celtics in Game 7 at Staples Center, Dr. Buss was told he could bring four people to the championship podium. He selected three of his children — and Arasheben.

“I was on the podium with champagne being sprayed all over me, touching the trophy as if I played in the game,” Arasheben said. “For a Los Angeles kid who grew up a Lakers fan to be on center court after Game 7 against the Boston Celtics, you literally cannot get better than that.”

The Lakers provided Arasheben’s first chance, but the rest of the sports world did not immediately follow. He pursued championship-ring contracts in basketball, football, baseball and hockey for five years and received 20 consecutive rejections. Teams viewed him as a Lakers jeweler, a California jeweler or simply a company too small to handle the job.

His breakthrough came when the Warriors won the 2015 NBA championship. Andre Iguodala, Draymond Green, Stephen Curry and Klay Thompson were among his clients, and several players pushed the organization to consider him. Arasheben promised Warriors executive Kirk Lacob that nobody would work harder or care more about the finished product.

“I told him, ‘I might not be the biggest company out there, but I can guarantee you nobody wants this deal more than me,’” Arasheben said. “‘I will break my back and put blood, sweat and tears into making sure you get the best ring possible. I just need a chance.’”

He got it.

That championship led to more Warriors rings and eventually another Lakers ring in 2020. Inspired by the Transformers toys he loved as a child, Arasheben designed the 2020 Lakers ring with a removable top, creating additional space to honor the franchise’s retired numbers and Kobe Bryant. Kobe’s jersey was rendered in black against a snakeskin pattern in tribute to the Black Mamba.

Tom Brady saw LeBron James’ ring and wanted the same jeweler to design the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ Super Bowl ring. That became Arasheben’s first Super Bowl commission and helped open the door to the Rams, who gave him the freedom to design a ring that captured Los Angeles and their championship at SoFi Stadium. It included palm trees, a removable top shaped like the stadium, a piece of the field and cowhide from a football used in the game.

“The ring has to tell a story,” Arasheben said. “It can’t just be a great big, flashy ring. It has to tell the story of the entire season — the journey, not only the result. We want to capture the culture of the city. Everything has to tell the story.”

That philosophy has allowed a lifelong Lakers and Rams fan to create rings for their rivals. Before pursuing the Celtics’ championship-ring contract, Arasheben called Jeannie, Joey and Jesse Buss to ask for their blessing. He told them he would walk away if they believed working with Boston would betray the family that gave him his first opportunity.

Jeannie Buss did more than approve. She offered to call the Celtics on his behalf and recommend him for the job.

Arasheben is still a Lakers fan, but he is also a businessman. That means creating a ring for the Celtics and, most recently, the Seahawks, who ended the Rams’ season before defeating the New England Patriots in Super Bowl LX.

The Seattle ring may be the largest and most technologically advanced of his career, but it comes from the same place as the plastic hair clips on a folding table at UCLA and the hand-drawn jewelry designs he carried into Los Angeles nightclubs.

Persistence, relationships and the belief that one opportunity can change everything.

Arasheben likes knowing every client personally. Team owners, presidents and players have his phone number. If a ring is scratched or doesn’t fit, they aren’t directed to an account representative. They call him, even if it is midnight or two in the morning on a Sunday.

“I’m not the smartest guy in the world,” Arasheben said. “I consider myself a good jeweler, and I’m sure there are jewelers just as good as me. But I have great relationships. I do good by people, and people do good by me.”

Sitting across from him, I kept thinking about the parallel paths of two Iranian-American kids from the Valley who loved the Lakers but had no chance of ever playing for them. We simply had to find another way into the arena.

I found mine with a pen, a notepad and a laptop. Jason found his with a pencil, a folding table and the nerve to keep introducing himself as a jeweler until the rest of the world believed him.

Now, when champions are ready to receive the final symbol of everything they accomplished, they call Jason of Beverly Hills.

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