Nope, Nowhere Near Ready to Think About the Sixers Again Yet
I can’t think about the Sixers without getting angry.
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Kudos to Damian Lillard for at least giving Sixers fans reason for hope, I suppose, just one week after the most devastating series loss in recent team history. Apparently now using the Yahoo Sports Paving Company to lay every step of his path to an increasingly inevitable trade demand, Lillard's camp leaked that the Portland star was some kind of disillusioned with the franchise and its fans -- setting fans of the other 29 NBA teams scurrying to the ESPN Trade Machine, perhaps none faster than Process Trusters. Here it was: Exactly the guy who this team had been missing to potentially take us to the next level, seemingly inches away from an official trade request, and theoretically available for a package we could very possibly assemble for him.
Sounds great -- but I'm not interested. Not to say that I'm not interested in Lillard and what he can provide our team; I'm familiar with the man's works, clearly he'd be a peach in our backcourt. I'm just not ready to mentally or emotionally reinvest in anything Sixers-related, and that includes fake trade packages for a disgruntled, potentially on-the-market superstar.
This Sixers series loss has affected me in a way I've never quite experienced before as a sports fan. The closest thing I can remember is Game 5 of the 2011 NLCS, when a devastating 1-0 loss to the Cardinals was coupled with a Ryan Howard torn Achilles on the last play, squandering the best Phillies regular season of my lifetime and seemingly (and as it turned out, actually) sealing the team's fate as sub-contenders for many years to come. Somehow, I don't even think that ickiness stuck with me quite as much as this series has: Maybe because that team had already accomplished so much more, maybe because there's a greater degree of Shit Happens in baseball to begin with, maybe because I've just spent more of my life loving and obsessing over this Sixers team than even the World Fucking Champions.
But this Sixers team... I can't get anywhere near them right now without getting viscerally upset. Remembering the good times just reminds me of the false sense of security I felt at the height of the last series and the subsequent vertigo I experienced from having it fall out from under me. I get no joy out of rooting either for or against the Hawks; the mere reminder of their existence is enough to send me into a mini-spiral. Even Joel Embiid, one of the most reliable sources of happiness in my life for most of the past decade... I don't want to say anything I might regret later about Sweet Joel, but suffice to say I still need my distance.
I'm usually pretty good at putting things in perspective after even catastrophic losses, finding the bright side and moving on relatively quickly. But this time, my body is just rejecting any such quick coping, making any words to that effect ring internally hollow. I don't expect to get over this in time to enjoy the NBA finals on any real level; I'm pretty doubtful that I'll be back in time for the draft, either. I'm hoping I'll be in shape for Summer League, at least -- for as long as we've Processed, Vegas has been just the thing to wash away the sins of the regular-season and/or post-season Sixers -- but at the moment I'd consider myself a gametime decision. (I probably shouldn't even be writing this article, but those extra pairs of Kinetic mesh shorts aren't gonna pay for themselves.)
I'm a little confused as to why this one feels so much worse to me than the others. The team was better in 2019. The turn of momentum was harsher in 2018. The loss was more discouraging for the team's future last year. Things are, objectively speaking, still pretty good with this team. Losing in seven to an inferior team at home is tough, but I probably shouldn't be questioning when the Sixers are gonna feel like THE SIXERS to me ever again.
If I could put my finger on it, with a week's perspective, I'd probably boil the continual knife-twistiness of this one down to three things. First, the home losses. Even without being in the building for any of them, losing three times at home in a seven-game series is uniquely spirit-crushing, especially when you get the variety pack of Ls: the early blowout (G1), the late come-from-behind (G5) and the tight-the-whole-way (G7). Not that there's any good way to lose in the playoffs, but at least when you lose the same way it feels a little more predictable; the way the losses varied gave me an undeserved confidence in each of the last two. (Doubtful I'll feel that again anytime soon, at least.)
Second, the sense of low expectations still not being low enough. Most times rooting for a 1 seed, you'd consider a Conference Finals bowout to be a failure, but I'd already made peace with that -- I just wanted to get there for the first time, against the easiest bracket break we could have possibly asked for, and then we'd worry about the next part next year. And that still was a bridge too far for these ingrates. As a chronic emotional hedger, it leaves me wondering exactly how far down I have to aim with this team to not risk getting my heart broken -- is just hoping everyone makes it through the playoffs without losing a limb or saying something explicitly bigoted really the best I can do? Is even that a smidge too greedy?
Third, it's the fact that everyone's at fault. I covered this extensively already so I won't rehash the highlights here, but while we've done a pretty good job of primarily scapegoating Ben Simmons (and to a slightly lesser extent, Doc Rivers) for this series loss, that's not really to the mercy of anyone else involved with the Sixers, all of whom I feel at least slightly shaken in my faith in at the moment. That part I do sincerely hope won't last, because it obviously shouldn't -- Joel was still an MVP most of the regular season and most of the playoffs, Tobias Harris still proved me wrong right up until the point that he didn't, Matisse Thybulle and Tyrese Maxey are still my beautiful boys, even Dwight Howard was more fun than tragedy for enough of the season that I'd hate to have to stay mad at him. Doc's a fine regular season coach, Daryl Morey is one of the best GMs in the league. I'd be foolish to let this combination of tar and ash currently occupying my insides overwhelm the love I have in my heart for this team for much longer.
But however long it takes, I'm not there yet. If we trade for Dame, awesome; if our remaining enemies get humiliated in the playoffs, tight; if we're set to draft this year's version of Tyrese Maxey at No. 28, dope --even doper than drafting Maxey himself really since (presumably) I won't have to hear about fucking Mike Muscala every time they do something good for the rest of their career. I'll be sure to enjoy all of it at a date to be determined. For now, to loosely borrow from the great Miranda Reinert, all of Sixers basketball and everything associated with it gets a 0.0 from me. Check in with y'all again next week and we'll see if the Sixers can at least get back to Ed Sheeran levels.