Sick or not, Sixers’ Joel Embiid needed to be more assertive in Game 4 loss to Raptors | Marcus Hayes

The Crown Jewel was cracked and dulled and tarnished.

Joel Embiid, whom Sixers coach Brett Brown calls the “Crown Jewel” in the vault of Sixers talent, sat at his locker, one towel around his chilled shoulders, another across his lap, sapped and wan and beaten. He coughed twice. He asked for a stat sheet. He sneezed once like a steam locomotive; sneezed again, then again. He’s 7-foot-2 and 280 pounds. He even sneezes big.

He read the sheet and shook his head. He couldn’t believe it.

Two-for-seven. And it wasn’t the two. It was the seven.

Inexcusable.

If you’re “The Process,” then you have to take more than seven shots in 35 minutes of a playoff game. This was, by far, the most passive performance of his career, all spurred by a nasty cold. Team doctors called it an upper respiratory infection. Embiid texted Brown at 6:20 a.m. on Sunday and said he’d never felt sicker. He missed the national anthem because he was making one final deposit in the bathroom stall, and later told reporters that he’d spent a sleepless night vomiting. He claimed he’d had an IV at dawn for breakfast.

He should have had two.

“We don’t care how many shots he takes," said Jimmy Butler, who counseled Embiid that he didn’t care “How many you miss. You’re the best player for a reason. We’re going to win with you or lose with you.”

They lost with him, 101-96, and the Raptors evened the Eastern Conference semifinal at two games apiece Sunday evening. Embiid finished with 11 points and seven assists, but too often, he deferred. To his teammates’ disappointment.

If the big dog doesn’t hunt, the whole pack goes hungry.

“If you’re going to go 2-for-7, go 2-for-20,” Butler said. “I’m wit’ it. We rockin’ wit’ Jo. That’s what we need out of Jo. To always be aggressive.”

If you’re sensing a lack of compassion from both the press box and from the locker room then you’re on the right track. Embiid, who scored 33 points Thursday in a Game 3 rout, needed to force the issue more in Game 4. Michael Jordan scored a flu-ridden 38 in Game 5 of the 1997 Finals, and he infected everyone in Salt Lake City. Ten years later, Mark Teixeira spent the day evacuating himself, then hit two homers for the Braves. In 2010, Brett Favre led the Vikings over Washington with pneumonia.

OK, it was Washington, but still.

Leaders play that role every night. Champions can shine on autopilot.

Sound harsh? Perhaps.

Know who agreed?

Embiid.

“Once I step on the floor, I’ve got to do a better job,” Embiid said. “No matter the situation, I need to be aggressive.”

He’s right. He put on a uniform, and he logged more minutes than he had in a month. You do that, you’d better be ready to carry your weight. He carries the most weight. His teammates depend on that. They demand it.

“He suited up and he got out there and played,” said Mike Scott, the team’s sixth man, the embodiment of their toughness and the provider of perspective. “The ball wasn’t moving like it should have been. We’ve got to get him going. He can’t take seven shots.”

Regardless of the situation?

“If he’s suited up, to play, he’s out there to play,” Scott replied. “Can’t take seven shots.”

Embiid occupies a completely unique space in sports. Back, foot, and knee injuries have haunted him since his abbreviated college career, cost him his first two NBA seasons and parts of the next three. Gastroenteritis limited him in Game 2 of this series, and now he’s got a bad cold.

He is a young man of questionable habits and indeterminate discipline whose health is a weekly, if not daily, concern. His $25 million salary is 24 percent more than his next closest teammate.

He wants to be known as Joel “The Process” Embiid.

More like Joel “Game-Time Decision” Embiid.

Embiid’s strategy Sunday: “I just had to focus on the defensive end.”

He blocked Serge Ibaka twice. He had two steals, and was a plus-17, the best rating of anyone on either team.

He also missed a soft, fadeaway layup with 1 minute, 25 seconds to play, which would have given the Sixers a one-point lead. He should have dunked it through the floor, and everybody knew it.

Butler barely acknowledged Embiid’s condition.

“He’s a little bit sick. Banged up,” Butler said.

Cool. You know what? After 82 games and a round of playoffs, everybody’s a little banged up. If you strap it on, you power through.

“Moving forward, we expect the same thing,” Butler said. “Go show why you’re so dominant night in and night out, on both ends of the floor.”

Maybe he’ll be dominant again in Game 5 on Tuesday night in Toronto, but in his third season of NBA games, Embiid is not dominant night in and night out.

He wasn’t on Sunday night, anyway.