Blog

As the Sixers wind down yet another coulda-woulda-shoulda campaign, this die hard fan who has ridden on the Process bandwagon from the very beginning is feeling nostalgic. Maybe one day our team will reach the mountaintop, and Joel Embiid will finally win an MVP, but for the present I dwell in the realm of wiz/wit-smelling fantasias of “what if’s?” as it relates to Philadelphia basketball.

For example, in order of the more mundane to truly bizarre:
— What if Jimmy Butler had stuck with the team?
— What if James Harden wore skinny jeans?
— What if the organization had ever bothered to develop and fill the backup center position?
— What if Bryan Colangelo didn’t give away draft picks like they were “one free water ice” coupons from Rita’s?
— What if we hadn’t spent up too much in the Tobias Harris trade and then doubled down on his horrible overpay contract?
— What if Sam Hinkie hadn’t been fired?
— What if Jayson Tatum were drafted?
— What if our GM didn’t have burner accounts?
— What if Markelle Fultz hadn’t died?

All good questions. Still, probably both the most straightforward and also stupefying Sixers what-if is this: what if Ben Simmons had developed a reliable-enough jumpshot and blossomed into the true No. 2 option to complement our Cameroonian hero?

Perhaps somewhere else in the multiverse of madness Ben Simmons is canning three pointers and the Sixers therefore are winning the Finals, but alas, not in this one. Instead, Simmons a) never improved his shooting skills and b) mentally cratered last year to the point that he refused to play for the Sixers and demanded a trade.

Which happened! (James Harden has been spotted at Golden Corrals throughout the tri-state area.) The delectable denouement of Ben Simmons’ going to the Brooklyn Nets, however, has been: he won’t play for the Nets, either. Ha, ha! First there were rumors that he’d be ready to go by March, then April, then the start of the playoffs, then midway through the first round, then “maybe next year.” Initially it was Simmons’ balky back that was blamed, but later it was disclosed that his distressed mental health state was preventing him from suiting up. (But let it be said that no one has questioned his smart sartorial choices on the sidelines.)

How the media has dealt with the ongoing Simmons Saga is what I’m driving at here. More specifically, the sports commentariat has struggled to find any semblance of nuance in discussing Simmons, which in my estimation points to larger failures in our contemporary public discourse. When it comes to a situation like Simmons, we seem only to be able to give assessments in all-or-nothing-categories. Either Simmons is a bum, or he’s the best—with no in-between. Here are three unhelpful polarities to notice:

Player empowerment versus player entitlement. From the former perspective, this is the golden age of sport in which professional athletes finally control their own destinies. If Simmons doesn’t want to play for the Sixers and demands a trade? If he’s not 100% ready to play for his new team? If he dresses like a Mummer? Great! Players should self-determine at all times. On the other hand, other voices will consider our present sports moment to be the worst of times: players are spoiled brats who are coddled their whole lives and come to believe that they’re immune from needing to honor their contracts and commitments like everyone else. Which of these perceptions is correct? Both, and neither. The truth is somewhere in the middle, but we’re shouting too loudly at each other to be able to land there. Or as another example. . .

Mental health as the ultimate trump card versus the ultimate B.S. excuse. Again, this is a tricky one. You can imagine how this debate falls out. Mental health advocates will defend Simmons’ claim that anxiety/depression is legitimately blocking his physical performance as brave and courageous, while others will chastise him as a snowflake who’s not able to “man up” through a little adversity. What camp people fall into appears to have more to do with each fan’s/commentator’s patience level more than the sifting through of any facts. Meanwhile and beyond Simmons himself, my estimation is that weighing mental health struggles against one’s personal responsibility (whether professional or personal) is one of the most important questions of our time. But it’s hard to talk about it without being branded as a hater. And finally. . .

Giving space versus giving no quarter. “No one knows what Ben Simmons is thinking except Ben Simmons!” “I’ll tell you exactly what Ben Simmons is thinking right now!” Sigh.

Now, am I implying that I’m the one able to thread the needle through these and so many others false, and fraught, dichotomies? Of course not. But I do want to name a specific “toolbox” as essential to constructive dialogue about difficult topics.

In the prologue to his Gospel, the apostle John pens that Jesus of Nazareth is “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). My old friend and campus minister, Craig, would observe about this verse that it’s not that Jesus is half grace and half truth. Conversely, through his person and work on the cross, Jesus is the only locus in the universe that’s filled with 100% grace and 100% truth all the time. Without the cross, we become either permissive to a fault (all grace, no truth) or critical without forgiveness (all truth, no grace).

Keeping grace and truth together isn’t a function box that guarantees that everyone will agree on all the answers at all times. However, it enables us to have meaningful conversations even in the midst of sharp disagreements. It leads us both to greater clarity and to deeper understanding.

In sum: How much is Ben Simmons himself at fault for the mess he’s in? I dunno. But it’s on us that we don’t know how to dialogue about it.

Share