Hey, James Harden, listen up. My advice: Apologize, and come back to the Sixers.

James! Bubby! I’m your white knight. I’m the Winston Wolf of Philly sports. I solve problems. And man, do you have problems. Actually, the 76ers do, too. That’s why they called me. They laid out everything, and I cut right to the chase: You’ve got a superstar, minus leverage, having a tantrum. Take me to him. So here I am. Let’s get to work.

I’ll admit, for a guy who specializes in awkward exits, you’ve set a new standard here. It was one thing to mope your way out of Houston and Brooklyn. The first team wasn’t going anywhere, and the second team had an important player who wasn’t going anywhere near a vaccine needle. But it has been another thing to watch you paint yourself into the corner you’re in now. Quite remarkable, actually. You went from landing with the one franchise that valued you more than any other in the NBA, with the one executive who valued you more than any other executive in the NBA, to taking a blowtorch to your relationship with that franchise and that executive.

That’s bad. Then you made it worse by going on that whole “Daryl Morey is a liar” diatribe from China. You waited until you were safely ensconced within the walls of a genocide-engaging communist dictatorship to fire the middle finger at him. I realize most league officials and players don’t care about that little detail because, you know, money. But for those people who remember that Morey was pretty much the only person connected to the NBA to stand up for those pesky pro-democracy protesters in Hong Kong … yeah, not a great look for you.

So definitely, we’ve got some fixing to do. And from where I sit, there’s just one way for you to salvage this situation for yourself.

Swallow your pride.

Confess to your mistakes.

Come back and play hard and well for the Sixers.

This might sound like I’m being pro-hometown team here, like I’m suggesting that you owe it to the organization to perform or that your return would be the best thing for the Sixers’ championship hopes. I’m not. I don’t have a dog in this fight. I’m making the case for what’s best for you, not for the Sixers. In fact, I’m already on the record: I think the Sixers would be better off without you.

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You turn 34 on Saturday. That’s ancient in hoops years. You still have a compulsion to be the ball-dominating, decision-making nexus of your team’s offense. But you’re not that player anymore. Too little lift on your layup and dunk attempts, and your step-back three is broken and probably can’t be fixed. Plus, you made it clear you didn’t like having to adjust your game last season. Me, I’d have been proud to lead the league in assists. You, you lamented your lack of “basketball freedom.” So if I were Morey, I’d be happy to trade you even for 50 cents on the dollar, turn over more responsibility to Tyrese Maxey, and take my chances that Maxey’s character and talent would allow him to grow and flourish in the way that the Sixers need him to grow and flourish.

But I’m not Morey, and there are two factors you have to consider here. First, unless Morey is planning to trade Joel Embiid — and there’s no indication that he’s planning to do such a thing — Morey has to keep him happy. That means Morey has to keep the Sixers in win-now mode. That means he likely believes he can’t afford to create a “gap year” by giving up on you before he absolutely has to. So he’ll bank that, with you and Tobias Harris in the last years of your contracts, with Embiid maybe in better shape and Maxey a year older and wiser, the Sixers can make a run. Then, after this season, he can move on to remaking the roster.

That factor plays into the second: You’re not going to win a staring contest with Morey. He proved as much in the Ben Simmons standoff. Simmons refused to show up. Simmons screwed around at practice once he did show up. Simmons was a bigger distraction and had less value on the market then than you do now. And Morey waited. And waited. And waited. Until he could trade for you.

The same conditions apply here. You can stuff yourself with pastries and pizza from now until training camp. You can make it clear you’re mailing it in on the court, and you can create disruptions off it. Doesn’t matter. Morey will wait. It’s his nature, and here’s the thing that he and everyone else know: Those kinds of antics will hurt you more than they will the Sixers. The more chaos you cause, the faster your value will drop, which will make it less likely for Morey, who’d sooner let you sit than give you away for a couple of bench-warmers, to trade you.

Remember, James: You exercised the player option in your contract, and because you did, you’re scheduled to make $35 million this season. You tried to strongarm the Sixers into giving you everything you wanted: all that moolah and a new place to play. I keep telling you: No other team was going to pay you that much in 2023-24, even if you had decided to become a free agent. Games 6 and 7 against the Celtics are fresh in everyone’s mind. They reminded people that the playoffs, the games that matter most, tend to bring out the worst in you. You’ve turned yourself into the Zack Mayo of the NBA.

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My advice: Own those lousy performances. Admit that you have trouble meeting the measure of a big moment. Look at Trea Turner. Look at Lane Johnson. Look at Dillon Brooks and Aaron Gordon and Andre Drummond. Pro athletes are becoming more open than ever about their mental and emotional struggles. Be that open. You might earn some sympathy and credibility, and you might change the popular perception of yourself. Do I think you’ll follow this advice? I do not think you’ll follow this advice. But that doesn’t mean it’s the wrong advice.

Because Lord knows, you need to change that perception. Right now, you’re the mayor of Quit City. These people think you want nothing more than to blow up their team. You have one chance, slight as it might be, to prove them wrong. Apologize. Come back. Offer the mea culpea-est mea culpa in sports history. It might not help the Sixers much, but it’s the only choice you’ve got.