MVP doesn’t make any child cry.
Nikki Karabel wanted to see Joel Embiid play in person on his birthday. Just once, you know? So father Sam spent $500. She brought her nephew up from Concord, California, loaded her children in the car and drove an hour to their home in Dacono.
Little Nicky, 8, going on to turn 9, and his mom spent Saturday morning working on a sign honoring the reigning NBA MVP and chronic DNP. It turned out that Embiid scored the same number of points as Sam did against the defending league champions (zero) at Ball Arena.
“It’s because he’s a center,” Nicky told me before Nuggets 111, Sixers 105. “And I also want to be a center. But I’m too small.”
Got a lot of time, friend. And what about that center from the Nuggets? That’s not too bad.
“(Embiid) is better than (Nikola) Jokic,” Nicky said.
Why so?
“Because he scored 70 against Wembley.”
“Dude,” I retorted, “You Can score 70 against Spurs.”
A few minutes later, Embiid came onto the field for his pregame routine. Sam prompts Nicky to watch the league MVP, hoping it might get him a high-five. An autograph. a wave. Some.
The note was on a white board that extended from Nicky’s shins to his chest. In fact, it was so big that if Nikki hadn’t been 8 years old and adorable, Nuggets security told me, they would have confiscated it per field policy. Read it:
Don’t be afraid, Embiid is here
As Embiid completed his warm-ups for the afternoon on his bench, Nicky and his family gathered with other Sixers fans up the west tunnel, the shortest distance to the away locker room, waving that sign, hopefully. Leaning over, hoping to get his jersey signed.
Embiid took off from the tunnel.
When I reached Carrabelle’s a few minutes later, the father was hugging his young son tightly. Nicky’s pitiful face was bright red, cheeks flushed, eyes welling up in tears of despair. No autograph. No identification. Nothing.
The child can’t help it. Grandpa was a Philly man in Vegas who raised his father on brotherly love. You worked with the Sixers in the 90s, you’ll put up with anything. Gets mixed in the blood.
“I mean, the Iverson years were great,” Sam said with a laugh. “But you know, it’s been painful.”
MVPs don’t hurt fathers.
Embiid, the NBA’s biggest chicken, doesn’t make a single noise. The Sixers star has not played a game in Denver since 2019. Only this wasn’t normal, the frustration of seeing one of the world’s best big men actively dodging one of the world’s other best big men raised eyebrows. , it was time.
Publicity. Net. ABC sold it like it was Mayweather vs. Pacquiao, and staffed it accordingly. ESPN insiders, like meteorologists, swore Friday night that the forecast was spot on For 99% probability of Joel vs Nicola At the end Happening at Chopper Circle.
And then it didn’t happen.
“He was injured tonight,” Sixers coach Nick Nurse explained during his postgame news conference before changing the subject.
Pain in left knee.
next question.
Look, it’s not just about MVP. I mean, yes, of course, it is. Especially here.
But what did it mean for the Sixers — and Embiid — to move their training camp to Fort Collins late last year? What was the point of such flexibility at altitude in autumn? What do you have to say about Deion Sanders’ speech to Philly about wanting a smoke, about accountability on the national stage?
MVPs don’t cower and run away.
Embiid’s chicken act wiped the egg off the NBA’s face. Big Joel can only miss six more games and still be eligible to repeat as MVP, and it would be a photo finish.
It’s not just about competitive integrity. Or Embiid is afraid of a building. Or the parade of insufferable Sixers supporters in Bristol.
It is about fathers and sons. It’s about lifelong memories, the bond and love of the game that spans generations.
When Jokic goes on the road, especially in Philadelphia, he knows that every Nuggets fan and every proud Serbian, by and large, is there to watch him. up close.
Joker used to sing a song on camera before missing a game. He also knows what his presence – not performance, but presence – means to each Nicky. For every child whose father kicked them out of the house, come hell or high water, so they could one day tell their children what that looked like in person.
In the days when “load management” was the lexicon of furniture movers, not million-dollar centers, a reporter once asked Joe DiMaggio, the Yankee Clipper, why he worked so hard. Why he busted his tail day after day for six and a half months, whether it was against the rival Red Sox or the lackluster St. Louis Browns.
Joltin’ Joe replied, “There’s probably someone in the stands today who’s never seen me play before.” “And I may never meet again.”
Ohhh say can you see…
“Embiid is a coward!”
With the early light of dawn…
“Embiid’s a (expletive)!”
“Where’s Embiid?” He started crying with 8:22 left in the first quarter. “Where’s Embiid?”
Cheerleading in street clothes, on the bench. While Sixers big man Paul Reed (30 points, 13 boards) went crazy and Marcus Morris Sr. went on a rampage for 33 minutes, Sam remained busy upstairs, trying to make peace in Section 252 as best he could with ice cream. And played Nicki’s love affair with popcorn. Can.
Half the popcorn in the world couldn’t fill that 7-foot hole in Nicky’s soul. Saturday’s performance was a Christmas-slash-Hanukkah present. They bought replica jerseys, blocked off seats, turned the afternoon into an early birthday weekend.
“I know they’re hurt,” Sam said during the fourth quarter. “(The Sixers) played hard. But this is disappointing.
“You come out to see the stars.”
The nurse said the medical team then pulled Embiid’s plug about 20 minutes before tipoff. I asked if this was any comfort to the Nickys and Sams of Ball Arena who made the trip.
“I think it’s always disappointing,” the Sixers coach replied. “For any fan who wants to see star players play, of course it is always disappointing.
“(Embiid) really wanted to play. The medical team did not consider him fit to play. It’s too bad for those fans. This is very bad.”
You come out to see the stars.
Enough about Embiid’s knee, Embiid’s surgery, Embiid’s injuries, Embiid’s struggles. What about the kid going back to Dakno with a broken heart?
“He’s upset,” Sam sighed.
MVPs don’t leave marks.
