Why the 2000-01 Sixers Deserve Every Bit of Their 25th Anniversary Celebration
This Saturday, the Sixers are rolling out the red carpet for the 25th anniversary of the 2000-01 team-the squad that captured the Eastern Conference, went toe-to-toe with a historically dominant Lakers team, and gave Philadelphia one of its most memorable sports runs of the modern era. Allen Iverson, Eric Snow, Aaron McKie, Theo Ratliff, and several other key contributors are set to be honored in front of a home crowd that still remembers that season like it was yesterday.
And they should be.
Yes, they didn’t win the title. But let’s not pretend that diminishes what they accomplished.
That team didn’t just make the Finals-they earned their way there, grinding through a brutally physical Eastern Conference and taking a game off a Lakers squad that was nearly untouchable. We’re talking about a 15-1 postseason run from a Lakers team led by prime Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant.
That Sixers win in Game 1 at Staples Center? That was the only blemish on L.A.’s playoff record that year.
And it came courtesy of a 6-foot-nothing guard from Georgetown who dropped 48 points and stepped over Tyronn Lue like he was a crack in the sidewalk.
That moment lives in NBA lore for a reason.
Still, you’ll hear the occasional grumble from fans who say things like, “Why are we celebrating a team that didn’t win it all?” Or, “This feels like a participation trophy.”
But that’s missing the point entirely. Because what the 2000-01 Sixers gave this city wasn’t just wins-it was identity.
It was heart. It was a team that reflected Philly in every way: tough, scrappy, underdog-minded, and relentless.
Allen Iverson was the headliner, no doubt. But that roster was built on grinders.
Eric Snow, a defensive-minded floor general. Aaron McKie, the Sixth Man of the Year who did all the little things.
Tyrone Hill banging in the paint. George Lynch locking up wings.
Theo Ratliff, before the trade, anchoring the defense. And then Dikembe Mutombo, acquired mid-season, bringing his finger wags and rim protection to a team that needed just a little more backbone in the middle.
They weren’t flashy. They didn’t have a Big Three.
They didn’t even have a Big Two. What they had was a singular superstar and a cast of role players who knew exactly who they were.
They defended like their lives depended on it and won games in the 80s and 90s-games that were more brawls than basketball. And they made it work.
That team didn’t just win 56 games and the East-they brought an entire region together. Every kid had an Iverson jersey.
Every living room was tuned in. And every game felt like a battle that meant something.
You couldn’t walk through Philly without hearing someone talk about “The Answer” or the next big matchup. That kind of cultural impact doesn’t fade just because the team didn’t get a ring.
And let’s be honest: if we only celebrated championship teams in this city, we’d be holding a lot fewer ceremonies-especially in the winter months. The 2000-01 Sixers, the 1993 Phillies, the Andy Reid-Donovan McNabb Eagles, the Legion of Doom Flyers-they all came up just short, but they left a mark.
They gave us moments, memories, and players we still talk about today. That matters.
Championships are the goal, no question. But they’re not the only measure of greatness.
Sometimes, it’s the journey that sticks with you-the improbable run, the emotional rollercoaster, the team that overachieved and made you believe. That’s what the 2000-01 Sixers did.
They weren’t just a good team; they were our team.
So when those players walk onto the court this weekend and the crowd rises to its feet, it won’t be about rings. It’ll be about respect.
About remembering a team that gave everything it had and made Philly proud. And if that’s not worth celebrating, what is?