Ben Simmons is Brooklyn-bound, and it’s easy to define in basketball terms exactly what that means for the Nets.
In Simmons—acquired from Philadelphia in a blockbuster trade for James Harden—the Nets are getting an elite passer and defender, a player who made All-NBA just two years ago, a 6' 11" unicorn with point-guard skills who should fit seamlessly with their other two stars and who, at 25, is just entering his prime. No, he doesn’t shoot much or score a lot, but the Nets don’t need much help in that department.
The Nets’ new Big Three—Simmons, Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving—is arguably stronger and more cohesive than the Big Three experiment they just abandoned, the one that featured Harden, lots of scoring and, well, very little defense.
So there’s that, the basketball stuff. It’s simple, and we’ll know soon enough whether our quick-hit trade analyses are right or wrong and whether Simmons can help propel the Nets to their first NBA championship.
And then, well, there’s everything else. (O.K., deep breath.)
Simmons is now a Net because he just burned half a season of games, sacrificing millions of dollars, his image, his credibility and a vast degree of fan support for reasons that are as unclear today as they were last summer when he first demanded a trade.
It’s possible that Ben Simmons is, as his harshest critics would contend, a first-class prima donna—immature, hardheaded, reluctant to evolve, intolerant of criticism and profoundly hypersensitive. His trade demand and the subsequent 54-game strike were—as far as we know—triggered by the backlash he got following his playoff flameout last spring: from Sixer fans, his co-star Joel Embiid and his coach Doc Rivers.
As far as we know. That’s the operative phrase. Because there is still so much we don’t know—about Simmons’ rationale, his thought process and yes, his general mental state. Simmons hasn’t spoken publicly since this saga began. Few have spoken on his behalf, and those that have, have mostly done so as anonymous sources.
Is Simmons dealing with a legitimate mental health issue, as his representatives asserted last fall to explain his refusal to play for the Sixers? Does it all stem from the criticism he heard from his coach, teammates and Sixers fans? Is he simply coping with a bruised ego? Or is it something bigger than that? Is it beyond basketball? We don’t know, and it’s frankly none of our business.
But we can be respectful of Simmons’ privacy and his mental health and still have legitimate questions about his game, his makeup and his reliability. (It’s fair, too, to voice at least some degree of skepticism about the mental-health alibi, given the circumstances and the timing of that explanation, which wasn’t raised until Simmons faced millions in lost wages.)
And if you’re a Nets official or fan, you can justifiably wonder if everything Simmons has exhibited over the last year—the bristling over questions about his jump shot, the refusal to shoot in fourth quarters of playoff games, the unprecedented decision to sit out the season, compromising his team’s title hopes—is a serious cause for concern.
The pressure to win in Brooklyn will be no less than it was in Philadelphia, even if Nets fans are, well, a little less numerous and a lot less brash. The (perfectly fair) critiques of Simmons’ game will not go away, either. Nothing Embiid or Rivers said last spring was particularly pointed or mean-spirited. Superstars in this league have heard much, much worse. It’s part of the game.
As Shaquille O’Neal said on a recent TNT broadcast: “Great players get criticized, but great players also step up to the criticism and perform.” He called Simmons “soft,” a “crybaby” and said flatly, “I don’t respect him. I would get rid of him.”
If you view Simmons through the lens of mental health concerns, those comments surely come across as harsh and insensitive. But Shaq’s view is hardly unique in this league, even in an era in which players and teams are becoming more attuned to mental health issues. Players need to know they can rely on their teammates. Coaches need to be able to criticize their stars. And even the biggest stars have to be willing to evolve.
This brings us back to basic basketball matters. Simmons has long viewed himself as a 6' 11" point guard who controls the ball and the offense. He’s now joining two ball-dominant superstars, including one of the most skilled point guards of all time. How will he feel about surrendering some control? Will he accept a less glamorous role as a secondary playmaker who’s listed at power forward? Or even (gulp) center? Will he be more amenable to expanding his game? To fixing his jumper (and using it)?
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The answers to those questions might well determine whether the Nets can make the Finals in June or win a championship or two in the Durant era. Simmons will instantly improve their defense. His passing will make life easier for Irving and Durant. The Nets also fortified their supporting cast, getting an ace shooter (Seth Curry) and a rugged rebounder (Andre Drummond) in the Harden-Simmons swap.
The Nets are still limited for now by Irving’s part-time status, the result of his refusal to get the COVID-19 vaccine. In Irving and Simmons, they now have two players whose individual actions threatened their teams’ success this season. (Indeed, Irving’s conduct and lack of availability drove Harden’s desire for a trade.) Of all the plausible contenders this season, the Nets have by far the most volatility to deal with.
In trading Simmons to Brooklyn, the Sixers formally severed a superstar partnership that once held immense promise—and occasionally flirted with greatness. The awkward melodrama that gripped the league for eight months is mercifully over.
But the critiques, concerns and curiosity surrounding Simmons will not be dissipating anytime soon. They’re just migrating up the turnpike.
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