Philadelphia Sixer’s Paul George just got hit with a 25-game suspension, and then he immediately dropped a statement to ESPN’s Shams Charania that felt like it was written by his publicist’s therapist’s publicist.
“Over the past few years, I’ve discussed the importance of mental health, and in the course of recently seeking treatment for an issue of my own, I made the mistake of taking an improper medication. I take full responsibility for my actions and apologize to the Sixers organization, my teammates, and the Philly fans for my poor decision-making during this process,” said George.
Now the internet has united under one simple word. Improper. How? Improper, like wrong bottle, improper? Or improper, like the league’s list is a minefield, and George stepped onto the one shaped like a gummy bear, improper?
Of course, annoyingly, the NBA isn’t saying. The league’s brief suspension announcement didn’t name a substance, and neither did George. Just the beginning of his apology tour addressed directly to the Sixers, the locker room, and Philly fans.
Which is basically like the sports equivalent of checking in “safe” on Facebook and then turning your phone off until the disaster’s over.
The reality here is that no one’s calling for a public shaming of George. It’s not a big state secret, or a scandal buried in a warehouse next to the Ark of the Covenant. Although we would like to know if the improper medication is listed in the Epstein files.
In all seriousness, privacy matters especially when the front door to this story is mental health. However, at the same time, we’re also living in an era where silence isn’t neutral; it’s a rumor incubator. In sports, “we can’t say more” translates to fans as, “start the group chat and cue the Reddit deep dives,” and “where’s my Ring Light? I have a conspiracy podcast to get off the ground.”
We’ve all seen the league be specific when it wants to be. Just last season, Bobby Portis Jr. got a 25-game suspension, and the NBA’s own release said he tested positive for Tramadol. Plain English. No riddles.
So why is George’s situation suddenly treated with the level of secrecy that the colonel’s eleven herbs and spices recipe holds? Maybe it is to protect the player, or maybe the league is protecting itself. Maybe it’s both.
This likely isn’t a “one Tylenol too many” mistake. But it does raise a slippery question: how many players are close enough to a policy pitfall that they hesitate to seek mental health care when they need it most?
For now, time — or George — will have to tell us what improper really means. For myself, I’m gonna do my part and chill out on the Flintstone vitamins. I’m one “yabba-dabba-don’t” away from a call from HR, apparently.