A calm, measured 76ers fan's diary: The Heat turned Game 4 into a boxing match and still got worked

Editor’s note: writer Tyler Tynes is a ... let’s say, enthusiastic Philadelphia 76ers fan.

By noon, a man in a No. 69 Sixers jersey was running past American Airlines Arena yelling “Trust The Process.” So you knew Game 4 was finna be some bullshit.

On the other note, before we get started, I think it’s important to note this in the public record, before the Sixers win their first playoff series since Evan Turner was poor Hahahahahahhahahaha: Brett Brown didn’t even think we should’ve won this game.

“The fact that you can actually win a playoff game with this volume of turnovers is mind-boggling,” Brown said in post game.

And he’s right. The Sixers played like shit. Again. Because Miami and Pat Riley’s melting, mash potato face wanted to make this into a boxing match and not a basketball game. That’s why the Sixers had to win Game 4 to preserve the sanctity of the center of democracy and battle rap in this country. Philadelphia has to survive if America is going to survive.

That’s why Ben Simmons had to try and roast Dwayne Wade’s old ass in the second quarter:

That’s also why Justise Winslow had to get stitches in maybe the only semi-real fight in 7974975 years in pro basketball:

Half of me wants to believe the Sixers didn’t take much of this one seriously. Markelle Fultz didn’t play and, instead, Brown went to #Gritty TJ McConnell for the reserve minutes. Robert Covington is still playing like he sold his lateral quickness to a genie for a Geno’s cheesesteak he will later regret. And Dario Saric had his worst game of the playoffs. Welp. Seems we are ordained to do this. And listen, children, I don’t block blessings.

**plays Chance The Rapper X Blessings**

There’s only a few takeaways from that dumb, sloppy, all-the-way-in-Miami’s-hands — they could’ve won it with their eyes closed but couldn’t because they’re a shitty basketball team without notable Philadelphian Dion Waiters — game:

We’ve haven’t seen anything like Joel Embiid in a long ass time: Majority of his points came from the line. He had five blocks and eight turnovers and was mostly horrible but, defensively, provided a statement to Miami. His worst game was better than Hassan Whiteside’s best game of the series. Yeah, dog. Come see us in Philly. We been waiting to jump Goran Dragic.
Ben Simmons is equally special. His first triple double and he didn’t miss a minute of the second half. And his fade is as beautiful as a Meek Mill intro. Bless that man.
As I have said previously: I would like no smoke with James Johnson. For y’all in the back of the church: I WANT NO SMOKE WITH JAMES JOHNSON. Mans is so violent he inadvertently shoved the fuck out of Covington just to stop his momentum. And Simmons, in the most 20 year old “fight me over these 4$ pitchers bro” energy I’ve ever seen, decided to try and talk greasy with a known killer. Listen, I’m a big fan of this variant of Philly-brand, unnecessary but needed aggression. But as someone who loves elongated mortality, I can’t rock with this decision, beloved. We still winners, regardless. But, yeah family. Don’t try that dumb shit again. Keep ya jaw. Miami has nothing to lose and you will die a needless death.
The most handsome basketball team in America won even though they only hit seven threes and committed 26 turnovers. We are a forced to be reckoned with and we don’t wear shitty Thom Browne suits like those washed dudes in Cleveland.

The final game of this series goes through Philly. I don’t see how we lose unless the ghost of Alonzo Mourning starts at center. And even then, he will be dragged down Broad Street by a gaggle of men unwilling to do their jobs, but fully focused on shotgunning whatever drink is closest to them. This is a city that is coming out swinging from a South Philly basement and destined to remind you of their greatness, through every jumper, from every bell ring, to each step toward destiny.

These are your new Bad Boyz of the Eastern Conference. Get wit it. Or get lost. Yah’mean?

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