Ben Simmons gave an interview to Men's Health.
Read that again.
Not ESPN. Not The Athletic. Not a basketball podcast. Men's Health. The magazine that runs "9 Foods That Secretly Wreck Your Gut" between ads for protein powder. That's the outlet Ben Simmons chose to relaunch the Ben Simmons brand.
And honestly? Perfect. A guy who hasn't been relevant on a basketball court since 2021 doing his big comeback tour in a fitness magazine is the most Ben Simmons thing that's ever happened. The interview is supposed to be about him getting healthy, getting strong, getting back on the court. What it's actually about is a man who watched his entire career fall off a cliff and decided the cliff was the problem.
Let's get into it. Because there is a lot in here.
Yeah, he wants to come back to Philly. Lol.
Here's the quote that should make every Sixers fan spit out their drink:
"Maybe I'll go back to Philly. Miami would be nice. And not because it's Miami—I like Erik Spoelstra, I like the Heat, I like their organization, I like the culture."
Maybe he'll go back to Philly.
Maybe.
Like it's up to him. Like there's a version of this city that wants the guy who quit on us, held the franchise hostage for an entire season, and cashed checks while sitting out claiming his back hurt and his "mental health" needed space — and also somehow stayed healthy enough to be ready the second he got traded somewhere else.
He thinks he's doing US a favor by leaving the door open.
"You can't teach 6'10" and IQ," he said.
Brother. We watched the IQ. The IQ passed up a wide-open dunk in a Game 7. The IQ has a career free-throw percentage that makes Shaq look like Steph. The IQ refused to shoot a single jump shot for three straight seasons. If that's the IQ, please, keep it in Florida.
The Matisse Thybulle thing is genuinely incredible
You know the play. Everybody in this city knows the play. Game 7 against the Hawks, 2021. Sixers down two, three and a half minutes left. Ben catches it under the rim with a clear lane to a dunk that ties the game.
And he passes it.
Out. To Matisse Thybulle. Who gets fouled and misses a free throw.
That single moment is the headstone on Ben Simmons' Philadelphia career. He never played another game here. Doc questioned him in the presser. Morey spent the next eight months trying to give him away.
So how does Ben explain it in 2026? He blames Matisse.
"I wasn't hitting my shit, so motherfucker, you knock it down! I just gave it to somebody who was shooting a higher percentage free throw at the time. So what is the difference? How about he should've made the fucking free throws? But he didn't and it is what it is. That's still my boy. I love the guy."
Five years.
Five years to think about it, and the takeaway is Matisse should've made the free throws.
The audacity to blow the most infamous non-play in modern Sixers history and then point at the guy you panic-passed to. "That's still my boy" after throwing him directly under the bus in a national magazine is the funniest part. With friends like Ben, who needs a defender who can't make a layup.
"I never had confidence issues" — sir, we were all there
This is the one that actually gets me. Because everything else is just Ben being Ben. But this is denial on a clinical level.
"So many people speak about confidence. If I was not confident, I would not get on the court again, I would not go to the Clippers, I wouldn't play in Brooklyn. It's health. It's just being healthy."
It was the back. It was the health. It was always the health.
It was never the fact that a former #1 overall pick and three-time All-Star stopped shooting entirely because he was terrified of getting fouled. It was never the yips. Nope. Clean bill of mental health. Always confident. Just a bad back.
Then, in the same interview, when the writer asks about his time in Philly, Ben says he was "second-guessing" and "overthinking" on the court. Asked whether that's about his confidence or his body, he says it was "a mixture of things."
So which is it?
You didn't have confidence issues, but you were second-guessing and overthinking. That's not a back injury, Ben. That's the exact definition of the thing you just spent a paragraph swearing never happened.
The sad part is, nobody in Philly would've held the yips against him if he just owned it. It happens. Real thing, happens to real athletes. We'd have rooted for the comeback. Instead he's still out here gaslighting a fitness magazine in the year 2026, and it's impossible to root for a guy who won't admit the sky is blue.
The "I'm just a chill guy who loves a cold beer" press tour
My favorite stretch of the whole piece is Ben trying to convince everyone he's a regular dude:
He describes himself as "pretty chill and calm" — a guy who likes "to barbecue with the boys, go fishing, watch some footy, just relax, have a cold beer."
This is a man reading a focus group's notes on "what do humans enjoy."
Barbecue. The boys. A cold beer. Footy. He's not a person, he's a beer commercial that gained sentience. There's a whole reinvention happening where Ben Simmons, professional load-managing recluse, is now Mr. Backyard Cookout. And look, fishing seems great. He owns a fishing team now — the South Florida Sails — and apparently runs up and down the boat looking for fish, which is a hilarious image. Six-foot-ten of him stomping around a deck going "I see one."
Genuinely happy he found the boats. Just spare us the "I'm one of the guys" rebrand. You load-managed your way out of a $170 million situation here. You're not splitting a 30-rack with the boys after a Tuesday softball game.
So, do we want him back?
Be honest with yourself.
No. Obviously not. The Sixers don't need backcourt help and they definitely don't need the circus.
But also… a small, broken, deeply Philly part of the brain says yes. Of course yes. Sign him to the vet minimum. Let the chaos return. The takes would be unbelievable. The Wells Fargo Center boos on opening night would register on the Richter scale. It would be miserable and we would not be able to look away.
That's the thing Ben never understood about this place. We didn't hate him because he was bad. We hated him because he had everything — the size, the vision, the defense, the IQ he keeps bragging about — and he was too scared to use it, and then he lied about why.
Five years later, nothing's changed. He's still healthy. He's still confident. He's still never done a single thing wrong.
It's Matisse's fault.
Welcome back, Ben. Don't.
