The other day, my friend Michael was chastised by his boss for forgetting to do something simple. “You’re too smart to be making such sloppy mistakes,” he said. And Michael, sick of being talked to this way, retorted that the job had simply not given him a reason to care. He was making mistakes because he was burned out, they hadn’t promoted him, and he was being paid nearly minimum wage. Now, mileage may vary on each side of this argument. You could say that the reason Michael isn’t being promoted or making more money is because he doesn’t care enough. You could say the reason the boss is displeased is because he doesn’t empower Michael or give him a reason to care. It’s a chicken or the egg argument. But either way, you could make a valid point.
So what fucking excuse do the Sixers have?
What argument do you make to get out of the fact that Doc Rivers, James Harden, and I hate to say it because he’s my all-time favorite athlete: Joel Embiid, aren’t just gigantic fucking losers? They’re all paid millions of dollars. They’ve all been given trophies and accolades and think-pieces and even had fucking books written about them. They have super-model wives and girlfriends, they have mansions, they have shoe-lines, and they have the love of an entire city — perhaps the most passionate fanbase in sports — and they show up in the most pivotal game of their careers and play like that? To lose is one thing, but to get run off the floor is absolutely fucking unacceptable. By the Celtics no less!
This year was supposed to be different. We have PJ Tucker, they said. Joel finally won the MVP, they said. Harden is willing to play team basketball, they said. Our bench can actually compete! We have a real backup center! Tobias has learned to play within the flow of the offense! Yeah, right.
Being a Sixers fan is like the myth of Sisyphus. We just roll the same rock up the hill until we hit the second round, and then it all crumbles apart. And this time, we have no one to blame but ourselves, and the people we’ve supported all along. In 2019 we could blame God and fate and everything above for the Kawhi shot. In 2020 there was the weirdness of COVID and the bubble. In 2021 there was Ben Simmons. In 2022, Embiid’s broken orbital bone from Pascal Siakam’s elbow. It’s 2023, and all we have to blame is Embiid himself, and James Harden’s continued nonchalantness when it comes to winning.
I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do or where we’re supposed to go. All I know is I embarrass myself continuously for being a Sixers fan. It’s every goddamn year, without fail. Like Michael’s boss, these Sixers just aren’t giving me a reason to care. They aren’t a collection of serious people. I love Joel Embiid. I love the idea of the process. But maybe the result of this process based on losing is simply breeding losers.
For Joel, I have complicated feelings. I don’t want him to go, but I don’t know what we as a franchise can do from here with him. For Maxey and B-Ball Paul, I fear the only way to continue to compete is to sacrifice our promising young talent, who are not to blame for any of the events of the last decade.
For everyone else**? For Doc Rivers? James Harden? Tobias Harris? De’Anthony Melton? Georges Niang? Shake Milton? Danuel House? Get the fuck off my team. You’re all losers. Every one of you. Get out.
Is the process over? I don’t know. As long as Joel is here I suppose it goes on. But this was the most important game of my adult lifetime. The most important game since 2001. And the Sixers were absolutely run off the floor by the vile fucking Celtics. Right after blowing game 6 at home in front of a sold out Philly crowd. It’s unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.
See you in October. And go Phillies, I guess.
**Everyone else except PJ Tucker, who is, in fact, a proven winner.