Photo Credit: Bill Streicher, USA Today Sports

Let me just start by saying this — Joel Embiid might be seven feet tall, but his legacy barely scrapes the rim. The man’s been hyped up for a decade as this unstoppable, game-changing force, yet when the playoffs roll around, he folds faster than a lawn chair at a barbecue.

I’m done hearing about “The Process.” The Process is over. The Process has expired. The Process has more extensions than a Kardashian. What exactly are we trusting anymore? A guy who’s built a career out of empty stats, pulled muscles, and press conference excuses?

Listen, I don’t care how many points he drops in January against the Pistons. Nobody remembers what you do in the winter. It’s what you do when the lights are hot and the pressure’s real — and every single year, Embiid’s either hurt, crying, or looking for someone else to blame.

This guy’s like the NBA’s version of a bad relationship. You keep telling yourself, “Next year it’ll be different.” It never is. You stay because of the potential — the flashes, the charm, the once-in-a-while dominance — but deep down, you know it’s not going anywhere.

Philly fans, bless your hearts, you’ve been gaslit by a 7-foot soap opera for a decade. You’re out here defending him like he’s the second coming of Wilt, but Wilt didn’t spend his prime talking about referees and back-to-backs. Wilt played.

Photo Credit: Matt Slocum, Associated Press

And don’t get me started on that MVP award. The NBA basically gave him a participation trophy. Jokić was out here breaking basketball while Embiid was breaking down. It felt like a “fine, you can have one” situation — like giving a crying kid the toy so he’ll stop screaming in Target.

Here’s the thing: great players make no excuses. Kobe didn’t cry about his teammates. Duncan didn’t whine about awards. Shaq? Shaq would’ve dunked on Embiid so hard his ancestors would’ve felt it.

But Joel? He’s different. He’s the most emotional dominant player I’ve ever seen — and not in a good way. He’s built like Superman, but he’s got the mentality of a soap opera actor. Every loss turns into a dramatic monologue about how “it wasn’t fair” or “I wasn’t 100 percent.”

Bro, nobody is 100 percent in May. That’s what greatness is — showing up when your body’s screaming and still getting it done.

Instead, every postseason is the same:

• Round One: Dominant Joel. MVP Joel. The Process is working!
• Round Two: Limping Joel. Blaming Joel. Exit interviews Joel.
  It’s like watching Groundhog Day in sneakers.

And let’s not pretend like he hasn’t had help. He’s played with more talent than half the league — Jimmy Butler, James Harden, Tyrese Maxey, even Ben Simmons before he went full Houdini. The only consistent thing about the Sixers has been the disappointment.

You want to talk about dominance? Dwight Howard — yes, Dwight freaking Howard — dragged a bunch of role players to the Finals. Embiid can’t even drag his team out of the second round without needing a medical report and a therapy session.

And Philly fans, I get it — you’re loyal. You want to believe in something. But it’s time to admit it: “Trust the Process” is the biggest marketing scam in sports history. You’ve trusted the Process so long it’s turned into a punchline.

Joel Embiid isn’t The Process. He’s The Excuse. He’s seven feet of “what if.” What if he stayed healthy? What if he had more help? What if he showed up when it mattered?

That’s his legacy — “what if.”

Photo Credit: AFP

And when it’s all said and done, when we look back on this era of basketball, Embiid won’t be remembered with Shaq, Duncan, or Hakeem. He’ll be remembered as the guy who made crying memes popular and playoff excuses fashionable.

So yeah — Joel Embiid. Great talent, great stats, great personality. But when it matters most? Just seven feet of excuses.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why on Joba and the Mouth, we don’t “trust the process.”

We expose it.

Twitter: @ErrolMarks34
LinkedIn: Errol Marks
Instagram: @rollothamouth34