My Low Point With The Sixers During The Embiid Era
I’m unable to talk myself into this team.
Andrew Unterberger is a famous writer who invented the nickname 'Sauce Castillo' and is now writing for The Rights To Ricky Sanchez, as part of the 'If Not, Pick Will Convey As Two Second-Rounders' section of the site. You can follow Andrew on Twitter @AUGetoffmygold and can also read him at Billboard.
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The one truly good moment for the Philadelphia 76ers in their last week of basketball happened without their involvement -- and without mine. I was watching YouTube videos with my girlfriend when I noticed the "@"s cluttering my smartphone notifications. Turned out that the pick the Oklahoma City Thunder would owe the Sixers if they'd finished with a top-10 league record was now guaranteed to convey, thanks to a miracle OKC fourth-quarter comeback against the Miami Heat -- capped, of course, by two threes from my least-favorite Sixer of the last ten years, Mike Muscala. The joy of suddenly having a first-round pick in next whatever month's draft was quickly nullified by the understanding that I'd have to look at whoever we pick in the same disgusted manner that Catelyn Stark looked at Jon Snow for the duration of their Sixers tenure.
Last night, like the rest of the basketball-watching world, I got swept up in the excitement of the Blazers, with their transcendent superstar who can both shoot and dribble, trying to fend off the Brooklyn Nets, who seem to be rising to every challenge regardless of injury or opponent, for the chance to make the Western Conference’s Bubble Ball play-in. But the thrill of the back-and-forth was, of course, undercut by the creeping realization that both of these sub-.500 teams would likely be considered a tougher first-round out by many than our supposed championship contender, as well as by the stellar play of former Process hopeful Timothé Luwawu-Cabarrot. Why did you guys get rid of him, anyway? my Nets fan co-worker asked me. I legitimately couldn't remember, so I had to look it up on Basketball-Reference. Oh right, we dumped him to OKC in a three-way trade two summers ago, a deal that netted us... Mike Muscala.
This has been a tough week for me as a Sixers fan and Process truster. It's been a challenging Bubble Restart for me in general, first exhibition half against Memphis and Shake Milton game-winner aside. Hate to already burn a second Peak HBO reference in just my third paragraph here -- Killakow, have mercy -- but I can't properly compare it to anything but those final-season episodes of The Sopranos, where little slip-ups began to turn into major tragedies, bonds that held the characters together slowly started to break apart, and everything just started to feel heavy. You didn't know where things were going, but you knew it wasn't going to end particularly well, and the sheer dread that you carried with you as you made your way there was just overwhelming.
I'm not even sure if I could tell you the main reason why. None of what's afflicting the Philadelphia 76ers at the moment -- injuries, slumping performance, close losses, bad vibes, Jimmy Butler commercials -- is particularly new to them, at least not on their own. The Sixers entered last postseason as losers of four of their last six, with Joel Embiid's health a huge question mark, and proceeded to get the doors blown off them by Brooklyn in Game One. There's nothing going on at the moment that we shouldn't be fairly used to as Sixers fans by now.
But this time, something does feel different. Maybe it's just the certainty of knowing Ben Simmons is done for the season, and with him, our chance of playoff contention. Maybe it's the fact that in three separate games since Bubble Ball tipped off, we've had to wonder "Where's Joel?" and found out the answer was "not on the court for the rest of this one, anyway." Maybe it's watching Norvel Pelle play center for 20 consecutive minutes in a game that ostensibly actually counts, or maybe it's seeing Matisse Thybulle picking up five fouls on Devin Booker seemingly in five minutes and knowing he's one of our best (only?) options fending off a Boston perimeter attack that includes three 20 PPG scorers, or maybe it's finding out that Alec Burks and Glenn Robinson III -- two guys we picked off the scrap heap from the worst team in the league -- are gonna be DNPs, and concluding we probably don't have a shot to win that night as a result.
Or maybe it's the fact that people are so frustrated with the Sixers right now that we're already jumping past the increasingly obvious hot-take solution and moving on to the far more dramatic one. Most of us are willing to concede at this point that Brett Brown has reached the end of the line with this team -- fine. We love Brett, and it's very arguable that no coach could have succeeded in the extreme circumstances the Sixers continually placed him under, but he's had seven years, and fair or not, it's reasonable to suggest that it's time for a change regardless. But now, that might not even be enough of a blood sacrifice: The "Can Embiid and Simmons win together?" train is back a-chuggin', even though nothing outside of two very weird Bubble Restart games has given us any kind of evidence for that argument in either direction since we resumed ball. It feels like no matter what happens in this upcoming Boston series, it'll be used by many as further kindling for the swelling Break Up the Sixers flame.
For four years, Joel Embiid has been my constant with the Sixers, my totem, my whatever other lame metaphorical tethering device from a convoluted sci-fi drama you can think of. Whenever I feel myself drifting too far off the golden path, he's the one who reminds me what it's all about -- the shining beacon of superstardom and Process faith, the one who still makes us feel like us. With Simmons out, we need Embiid more than ever to be our emotional point of contact with this team, but even he feels shaky at the moment -- with his inability to stay on the court, his recent admission to J.J. Redick of just going through the motions earlier this year and his... I dunno, just feeling a little juiceless without the WFC crowd there to recharge his battery. Sixers fans and Joel Embiid were clearly never meant to have a long-distance relationship; without us being able to see and feel one another, the separation between us just seems to keep growing.
I don't want to get too deep into my thoughts about the Boston series, since we'll have predictions coming later and for the purposes of this article, it doesn't really matter anyway. I'm not as concerned about the outcome of the Boston series as I am about how little I'm looking forward to watching it unfold. I'm an expert at talking myself into getting hyped for the Sixers pretty much regardless of larger context, but this time, nothing's taking. Well, finally we get to enjoy a postseason without expectation -- how much fun is that gonna be? Nope. Finally, a chance to get payback on Boston for beating us in 2018 without Kyrie when everyone thought we'd win! Closer, but nope. Four to seven games with Joel Embiid being guarded by Daniel Theis and Enes Kanter - he's gonna put up streaming-era Drake numbers! Maybe, but also nope. It all sounds good, but none of it's really hitting for me. All I see when I look at the series right now is a battle between two teams where one seems clearly better than the other. All I see is the end.
It's sorta telling right now that such fuss is being made over Mikal Bridges and how the Sixers let him get away to Phoenix. Even with Bridges already appearing to be nearing the ceiling of his best-case scenario as a pro, with Zhaire Smith still yet to see meaningful (plural) minutes in the Association, and with the pick acquired for swapping the two spent on the mixed blessing of Tobias Harris, that's still one of the most justifiable, thoughtful, long-viewed moves that the Sixers have made in the last four years. But that's just sorta what you do when the feeling that things generally haven't worked out becomes unavoidable -- you start poring over every decision made along the way, rending countless garments in the name of oh we could have and well if only. It's never a good sign when the postseason hasn't even begun yet and already your entire Process life is flashing before your eyes.
It hasn't escaped my notice that while all this is going on with the Sixers, a new group of people's champs have sprung up from the City of Brotherly Love. I can't say I totally get what the deal with the current Flyers team is -- I've been mostly out since the Kings won it all with half our old team in 2012 -- but I can certainly understand why "Stanley Cup favorites" is an easier sell right now than these Fall of the House of Hinkie Sixers. I've considered hopping on the bandwagon, but I'm already tapped emotionally from investing what little sports energy I have left from the Sixers into the Phillies, a team that might have three of the 15 best players in the National League (until one of them likely walks this offseason, anyway) and is still such a mess around the margins that they'll be lucky to finish at .500. I wish y'all the best of luck with the Flyboys, but I don't even know if I'd be able to handle an easy winner right now, mentally or physically.
And things could still turn around for me with the Sixers. Historically, it hasn't taken much to get me back on board: One Shake roasting of Jayson Tatum on the perimeter, one Embiid dunk on Enes Kanter, one Matisse swat of Kemba Walker into Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge and I may be once again popping my K.J. McDaniels jersey like there's no tomorrow. But until then, my heart is too weighed down with this team for me to feign my usual chest-puffing. Hit me with all your "Sixers in 6" takes, please -- I may even smash that RT button in reflexive solidarity -- but inside, I'll still be caught in the undertow, the one that takes us further and further from the Process light and closer and closer to all things Mike Muscala.