Editor’s note: writer Tyler Tynes is a ... let’s say, enthusiastic Philadelphia 76ers fan.
A calm, measured 76ers fan’s diary: Tragedy does not suit Philadelphia, but it must be embraced
Inside the mind of a Sixers fan watching his team get toppled by the Celtics.
Photo by Mitchell Leff/Getty Images
Ajax is the center of a classic Greek tragedy about the toll of war on the human composition, a contagion from conflict. Homer’s Iliad takes time to describe a great warrior. The famed Ajax, the “bulwark of the Achaeans,” was trained by centaurs, fearless, and rarely bruised by the horrors of war. Ajax is so fearsome, he doesn’t even receive battle assistance from the gods themselves.
The only time the world sees Ajax close to defeat is one of his battles with Hector, who merely disarms him, forcing him to retreat for one fight, though Ajax is not really hurt. I revel in this, as it offers a reminding thought of the only night Philadelphia breathed in failure against Miami, our hostility demilitarized for a moment and laughed away as a postseason bruise.
It is not until the reader knows the Iliad is coming to a close that we start to see Ajax falling apart. Ajax faces his first true competitor in Odysseus, the winner claiming the mythic armor of Achilles, Ajax’s ally. A council finds Ajax overcome with youth, not as eloquent as Odysseus, and not fit to claim the armor, which would lead him to more power. Ajax becomes furious and slaughters nearby livestock, believing them to be enemies, due to deception from Athena.
Ajax begins to see his dishonor. Unable to deal with the grief, he falls on his own sword: “When a man suffers without end in sight, and takes no pleasure in living his life, day by day wishing for death, he should not live out all his years.”
Thinking of Homer’s version of Ajax’s demise, even reasoning with Sophocles’ picture of the character, brings memories of the Sixers’ run in this year’s postseason. We were the young Greek lord, slaying those in our path, barely bruised by battle, laughing off the minor victories of Hector, seeing him to be nothing more than Goran Dragic.
The Celtics have not only matched our wits, they’ve deceived us. We have not been good enough to convince anyone we are fit to take the strongest armor, we are not ready to fend off the armies of King James, and who knows how we’d even fare against the upstart Pacers. Old Al Horford has proved to be our Odysseus, hardened by war, able to convince councils of coaches, referees, and onlookers that his side is truly worthy of the next step on the road to glory, leaving our heralded Sixers only the option of death by sharpened sword.
We are not there yet, though we have been grief-stricken and are on the verge of the slaughter of those in our midst. Online conversations and Philadelphia fan forums already discussed whether the end is near, whether Brett Brown was never fit to lead, or if Ben Simmons isn’t the daunting warrior we believed him to be.
Just like Sophocles’ Ajax, another warrior, Philoctetes, is mentioned by both Sophocles and Homer. In Book 2 of Homer’s Iliad, he is seen stranded and exiled on Lemnos, the victim of a near-fatal snake bite. In the 2016 reading of Ajax’s grief, the Emmy-winning David Strathairn portrayed the fallen Philoctetes. He mirrors the current Sixers, abandoned by some of their fans at the first sign of tragedy.
“Earth, swallow this body whole, receive me just as I am, for I can’t stand it any longer!” Strathairn yelled. The pain “cuts straight through me. I am being eaten alive.” He went on in agony. “Oh, I am wretched! Death! Death! Death! Where are you? Why, after all these years of calling, have you not appeared?”
I take joy in this re-reading. It’s almost as if I said these things, watching overtime and seeing a foolish emission of undeserved confetti fly from the rafters. Am I, are we, finally facing the death we’ve clamored for after seeing such heinous defense, such blithe disregard for beautiful ball movement, aggressive dribble drives, iconic of Philly ball, leading to each loss?
Yet, even when Philoctetes was yearning for such morbid liberation, he still found his way to Troy, he still gripped his bow — the same that led him to innumerable victories and would find three wins over the battered men of Troy. It was victory despite death creeping to his doorstep, the light in his eyes fading. Giving up was an easier choice than sprinting back into battle. This idea is the only antidote I can offer to suffering by the hand of the Sixers. We are not dead yet, though death would be a sweet release.
Who is to say the Sixers cannot muster the same force in the face of such crippled odds? We can only stand by and wait to see if they fall on their own sword, feeling the shame and dishonor of defeat or if, near death, they will grab their weapons and rush back with pride.
At this crossroads, however, we are only left two choices. Squander or success. And who am I to say whether Philadelphia can become Ajax or Philoctetes?
See More:
