Pressure in sports is a sticky blend of desperation, hope, urgency, fear, and accountability. It can be oppressive or uplifting and doesn’t exist without stakes and tension. Reward or disgrace? Pain or gratification?
During the 2024-25 season, no one will feel more of it than Joel Embiid. On Friday, the Philadelphia 76ers signed him to a three-year, $192.9 million extension, an unsurprising bit of news that comes on the heels of a brilliant offseason, highlighted by max contracts for Tyrese Maxey and Paul George, plus solid revisions throughout a roster that is now, top to bottom, one of the most impressive Philly’s ever had. It’s safe to say Embiid is happier today than he was in April.
The timing of this deal can be read as a tell: Embiid is exhibiting a clear vote of confidence in the organization that drafted him 10 years ago. In exchange for that show of faith, a historic sum of money will be deposited in his bank account. There’s risk, sure. Embiid turns 31 in March, falls down a lot, and is equal parts fragile and imposing. But by and large, this deal is a win for both sides. It also top-lines inescapable championship-or-bust expectations for a megastar who has spent nearly a decade haplessly squandering one promising opportunity after the next.
(Unfortunate injuries are part of it, but Embiid’s embrace of a playing style that seeks contact and all but requires him to hit the deck more often than a body that large ever should—plus his inability to get and stay in shape and help avoid some of the preventable pain that’s exacerbated by his physical condition—is an element that disallows “bad luck” as an excuse for all the setbacks that have defined his career.)
On paper, the Sixers are set to surround Embiid with more complementary talent than he’s ever had. It’s a shit-or-get-off-the-pot season for the only MVP in NBA history who’s never won two playoff series in a row. This is someone who wants to be remembered for what he’s accomplished instead of all that’s been wasted, but it’s plenty fair to think the latter is a more accurate representation of what his legacy has amounted to.
In some ways that’s a compliment. A microscopic number of NBA players are within a shout of his résumé or could dominate both ends of the floor in the way Embiid can. But infecting that greatness is a long line of untimely injuries, diminished playoff production, muffled defensive impact, and a consistent inability to lift teammates at critical junctures. Embiid has never averaged more points per shot attempt in the playoffs than he did during the regular season, and there’s a postseason pattern where his assist rate goes down and his turnover percentage goes up. (Since 2018, 25 players have recorded at least 100 minutes that are labeled “high” or “very high” leverage—i.e., varying degrees of crunch time—by PBP Stats. Embiid’s true shooting percentage in those minutes is a paltry 44 percent, sixth worst among them and far below his All-Star contemporaries.)
There’s no shame in coming up short. Winning a title is extremely hard and complicated, and, for someone like Embiid, it can’t be done if people in his boat don’t row in the same direction. But if he fails to at least make the conference finals during this extension, as the clock ticks on his body and the back end of George’s prime, it will etch his name among the biggest underachievers in sports history. Nobody has more to lose or gain this season. There are no guarantees, but it’s hard to think of anyone as great who’s tolerated more disappointment without eventually getting to taste team-oriented validation. That breakthrough is usually inevitable. (As fellow homegrown stars like Jayson Tatum, Nikola Jokic, Steph Curry, and Giannis Antetokounmpo can attest to.) It has to come, right? But what if it never does? That’s pressure.
Of course, Embiid isn’t alone. Everyone in the NBA takes the court with varying amounts of weight on their shoulders. Without it, there’s no purpose; the action would hold little to no meaning. Pressure is an active, essential ingredient in the stew of professional sports. But it isn’t distributed evenly, a dynamic that enhances the drama.
Embiid undoubtedly faces the most pressure of anyone heading into the 2024-25 NBA season. Here are four other figures who will feel their fair share this season.
2. Damian Lillard, Milwaukee Bucks
In 2023, Lillard averaged a career-high 32.2 points per game and finished first in offensive estimated plus-minus. First! What followed were reports that he was finally prepared to leave Portland and join a team that was built to win it all. A stop-the-presses revelation.
We all know what happened next. The Bucks capsized before they had a chance to figure out what they could be, and, despite making the All-Star team, Lillard was not the same guy he was on the Blazers. According to BBall Index, he averaged 7.9 fewer points per 75 possessions, which was the steepest drop from 2023 to 2024 that any player who logged at least 1,000 minutes had. His 2-point percentage fell from a career-high 57.4 to 49.0, and Milwaukee’s offense was barely mediocre—and objectionably sluggish—when he played without Antetokounmpo.
The Bucks are now desperate for the 34-year-old Lillard to bounce back from what could be an irreversible downshift. Now that he’s had a full season and offseason to acquaint himself with a new city, role, and set of expectations, his ability to recapture the ice-cold moxie that once solidified him as a crunch-time assassin who bends defensive game plans until they shatter is one of the league’s most important subplots.
For years, Lillard’s loyalty made him beloved. Should the Bucks disintegrate sooner rather than later, loyalty cannot shield him from the reality he now faces as the sidekick to an all-time great, searching for the breakthrough Finals appearance currently absent from his own Hall of Fame résumé.
3. Koby Altman, Cleveland Cavaliers GM
No organization doubled down with more impunity quite like the Cavaliers this summer.
By extending Donovan Mitchell, Evan Mobley, and Jarrett Allen to contracts totaling $465.3 million, bringing Isaac Okkoro back, and not trading Darius Garland, Altman has decided to run it back with a promising roster that just so happens to be in conflict with itself.
It’s a fascinating bet on new head coach Kenny Atkinson, who’s now asked to squeeze more juice from a fruit that was ostensibly dry under J.B. Bickerstaff. Atkinson is shrewd, tireless, and creative, but Cleveland’s fundamental issues may be more systemic than specific. Bickerstaff was not incompetent. The Cavs made annual strides under his leadership. They bought into a defense-first identity and, without skipping a beat after the Mitchell trade, finished the 2022-23 season ranked second in net rating. Pretty good!
For his trouble, Atkinson inherits a vexing overlap among Cleveland’s top four players, along with their collective inability to space the floor. By keeping it all together, Altman has embraced an intractable dilemma by trusting in Mobley’s offensive development. It’s a consequential barometer that, in this setting, can make or break the entire era.
Little of this is Mobley’s fault. Normally, a franchise talent is surrounded by teammates who complement his strengths and cover up his weaknesses. Ideally, there’s some patience throughout a budding star’s maturation as his weaknesses shrink and his strengths are refined. But on the Cavs, this relationship is backward. Somewhat clumsily, Mobley has instead been ordered to urgently expand his game and accommodate the team’s more troublesome structural impediments.
The pressure springs from a distinct possibility that Cleveland can’t make it work fast enough, primarily by failing to generate enough 3s with Mobley and Allen on the floor. Last year, only 32 percent of that big lineup’s shots came behind the 3-point line. (For reference, last season the Nuggets ranked dead last in 3-point rate, at 32.3 percent.)
At what point is the need for change undeniable? Do they ride into a third straight postseason with the same configurational defect, hoping stout defense and ridiculous shotmaking can carry them to the conference finals? If not, who’s the odd man out? The answer to the latter question, through no fault of his own, is likely Allen, a productive and amiable rim-running shot blocker who gets better every year and would be embraced with open arms by about half the league.
Over the past three years, Cleveland has been noticeably better when Allen plays without Mobley than when Mobley is without Allen. Add Mitchell into the equation, and lineups with the five-time All-Star and Allen (but no Mobley) are significantly more efficient than when he plays with Mobley (but no Allen). The fit is uncomplicated. But as my colleague Seerat Sohi accurately put it on a recent podcast, while Allen can raise his team’s floor, Mobley—who’s almost three years younger—has the potential to shatter its ceiling.
In a lot of ways it made sense to bring everyone back. None of the contracts, as individual documents, were hastily agreed on or reek of desperation. This is a good team. If it’s content being competitive, hard to score on with a puncher’s chance to make the conference finals, tectonic trades aren’t necessary. But if things go south before February’s trade deadline, no GM would be under more pressure to course correct. Sometimes stability and mobility are enemies. That feels very possible here. Mitchell’s decision to stay gave everyone in Cleveland some time to catch their breath. It’s worth asking what, though, it is they’re gasping for.
4. Julius Randle, New York Knicks
Since he signed with the Knicks in 2019, Randle has cracked two All-NBA teams and been an All-Star three times. It’s an impressive run that’s been eclipsed by a pair of disastrously inept playoff appearances and the magic carpet ride New York enjoyed without him, after Randle underwent season-ending shoulder surgery in April.
So many exciting and surprising things have happened to this organization over the past few months—from the Mikal Bridges trade to OG Anunoby’s new contract to Jalen Brunson’s extremely charitable pay cut—that almost every time I think about the Knicks, I forget Randle is even on the roster. Some of that’s thanks to how easy it was to ignore his absence during the playoffs. The Knicks were winning in a specific way that made Randle’s statistical production inessential. Sure, he would have lessened a heavy burden that eventually caved the whole operation in, but before everyone got hurt, it was impossible to locate 35 minutes in Tom Thibodeau’s rotation for Randle to do Randle stuff. Doing so would’ve discarded someone else who was fundamental to their success, be it Brunson, Anunoby, Josh Hart, Isaiah Hartenstein, Donte DiVincenzo, or Mitchell Robinson.
Now, it’s hard to unsee what was so clear before New York’s wheels fell off. It found something special with the ball in Brunson’s hands, supported by frenetic offensive rebounding, dependable outside shooters, and tenacious defense. Randle isn’t necessarily a drag on this formula, but the Knicks front office has clearly adopted a wait-and-see approach before it makes another long-term financial commitment to someone who, this time a year ago, was the face of the franchise. Randle has a $30.9 million player option next season. He’s extension eligible, 29 years old, and durable. Before he became a Knick, the organization was lost in a wilderness that made The Blair Witch Project’s locale look like a schoolyard. He won Most Improved Player in 2021 and—poor shot selection and inconsistent defensive effort aside—can pulverize opposing teams with a combination of power and touch few possess.
There almost definitely won’t be an extension, though. To secure his next contract—from either New York or elsewhere (it’s really hard to identify where that elsewhere could possibly be)—Randle must transcend a new on-court hierarchy that, absent his company, has already shown how it can function, thrive, and grow. New York’s locker room is unlike any in recent NBA history. Bridges, Brunson, Hart, and DiVincenzo can’t help but resemble a clique, with lifelong friendships forged at an age when someone’s appeal is less transactional and more from the heart.
This isn’t to say Randle will always be an outsider. But with (potentially a lot of) money on the line, he must now sacrifice parts of his game, cede the spotlight, and discover new ways to impact winning on a roster that’s seen its on- and off-court identity evolve and improve without him. There’s a world where this all works and everyone is happy. But it’s also possible that the nature of Randle’s game will never permit him to feel comfortable in his own house.
5. Jimmy Butler, Miami Heat
Butler has nothing left to prove, per se. His reputation is ironclad. His capacity to win, overcome odds, and persist is respected by pretty much everyone. But right now, with his value to the Heat (a proud organization nearing an existential crossroads) feeling more incongruous by the day, time is running out on a team-player partnership that overachieved spectacularly while also strangely being followed by a sense of disappointment.
Last year, after a depleted Heat roster was trounced by the Boston Celtics in the first round, Butler was publicly scolded by Pat Riley for essentially failing to take the regular season as seriously as he needed to—harsh words for someone who’s led them to three conference finals in five years. Since that press conference, Butler has not been offered a contract extension. This doesn’t mean a breakup is guaranteed or even imminent (Butler has a $52.4 million player option for the 2025-26 season), but this year feels like a pivot point in a career that has high-impact basketball left to offer. It’s certainly possible that Butler will appear in 70 games, make an All-NBA team, and lead Miami to a top-four seed this season. But it’s just as likely that the wheels will fall off and he’ll be traded to a team that feels confident in its ability to harness the production that’s still there.
What would Butler’s future look like if it unfolds away from southern Florida? It could still be sunny. But it’s hard to forecast a sustained string of blue skies for a stubborn, mercurial badass whose body and mind may no longer jibe with the rigors of an 82-game season.
Honorable mentions: Luka Doncic, Rob Pelinka, everyone younger than 25 who plays for the Denver Nuggets, Scoot Henderson, Mike Budenholzer, Anthony Edwards
