Ben Simmons is a name that once commanded the kind of reverence reserved for generational talents. Now, at 30, he’s a shadow of that man—physically battered, publicly scrutinized, and seemingly adrift in a league that rewards consistency more than potential. Yet here he is, limping back into relevance with a mini-camp invite from Australia and whispers of a training camp offer from an NBA team. The question isn’t just whether he can still play; it’s whether anyone, even the Lakers, should want him to. And honestly? It feels like a cruel joke.
Let’s start with the obvious: Simmons’ career trajectory has been a rollercoaster of self-inflicted setbacks. Once an All-NBA guard with a defensive IQ that made him a cornerstone of Philadelphia’s 2018-19 title run, he’s since become a cautionary tale about ego, injury, and the perils of being a one-trick pony. His inability to shoot, combined with a refusal to take the initiative in the 2021 season, effectively ended his tenure with the Sixers. Now, after a year of physical rehab and a summer of quiet speculation, he’s back in the mix. But what makes this particularly fascinating is how little the league has changed in the time he’s been gone. Teams still crave elite defenders, but they also demand versatility—a trait Simmons hasn’t demonstrated in years. It’s like asking a smartphone manufacturer to sell flip phones again in 2024.
Here’s where the Lakers come into the picture, and it’s a scenario that feels less like a strategic move and more like a desperate attempt to find a spark. The team’s power forward position is a gaping hole, and Simmons’ defensive pedigree could theoretically fill it. But let’s not kid ourselves: this isn’t about basketball. It’s about nostalgia. The connection between head coach JJ Redick and Simmons is a red herring. Sure, they had chemistry in Philly, but Redick’s current role is to stabilize a roster that’s already teetering on the edge of chaos. Putting Simmons next to Luka Dončić and Austin Reaves? That’s not a fit—it’s a disaster waiting to happen. Simmons is a ball-dominant player who can’t shoot, and the Lakers’ offense already struggles with ball distribution. Adding him would be like giving a toddler a chainsaw and telling them to fix a car.
And let’s talk about the logistics. The Lakers don’t have a roster spot. They’re already over the salary cap, and signing Simmons would require juggling guaranteed contracts like a magician with a deck of cards. Even if he shows promise in training camp, the team would have to cut someone else—a move that feels like a gamble on a player who hasn’t played competitive basketball in over a year. This isn’t just about risk; it’s about optics. The Lakers are a brand, and associating with Simmons could alienate fans who see him as a cautionary tale rather than a comeback story. What many people don’t realize is that the NBA’s front offices are now run by data analysts and risk managers, not dreamers. They’re not signing Simmons for sentiment; they’re signing him for a return on investment. And right now, that return looks like a mirage.
This whole situation raises a deeper question: Why do we still cling to the idea that athletes can ‘bounce back’ from such dramatic falls? Simmons’ case isn’t unique—just look at the careers of Chris Paul or Kevin Garnett—but it’s rare to see a player with his specific skill set try to claw their way back. The truth is, the NBA is a business, and businesses don’t gamble on ghosts. If the Lakers are seriously considering this, they’re either desperate or delusional. Either way, it’s a reminder that in sports, as in life, the past doesn’t always make for a good future.
