Column: The LA Clippers are Dysfunctional and Delusional

LOS ANGELES — Here we go: the Los Angeles Clippers — a franchise that keeps acting like it’s auditioning for relevance rather than actually earning it. They’ve never won a damned thing, and judging by the roster, the culture, and the recent results, they appear to be on a one-way ticket to more of the same.

Let’s set the stage: the Clippers opened the 2025-26 season in Utah as 9.5-point favorites — a team with a stacked veteran roster, supposedly primed to contend. Instead, they were trounced by the Utah Jazz by 30-plus points (not yet final, but trending that way). If that doesn’t scream “systemic issues,” what does?

At the top of the circus sits owner Steve Ballmer — flamboyant, loud, billionaire-type, spending millions as if buying hope, rather than building a winning formula. Instead of instilling discipline and culture, Ballmer acts like a carnival barker extorting the fanbase’s optimism by promising playoffs and championships while delivering neither. Fans keep paying for the ticket, the popcorn, the hype — and he keeps selling it as if the show’s about to start… only the curtain stays closed.

Management? Don’t get me started. They’ve signed aging, over-the-hill vets, handed out horrid contracts, and repeatedly tinkered the roster rather than building it. They brought in Kawhi Leonard as the centerpiece — only to get an intermittent cameo performance. Leonard has been brittle, injured, and unreliable. He shows up like the big scene in a play and then disappears for the rest of the performance. Compare that to someone like Shohei Ohtani in baseball — yes, you could argue Ohtani gambles with his body, but at least when he’s on the field, he plays. Leonard? More like the star of a “Where’s Waldo” game for 40 minutes.

Then there’s James Harden — whose star billing now reads “stat-padder and soft.” He collects numbers like stamps but when the lights get bright — when the playoffs and elimination games come calling — he tends to freeze, slow, and fade. And lest we forget Bradley Beal, the latest veteran addition whose real value is less clear than the “minutes restriction” he’s currently playing under. Reports say he might only see 18-25 minutes in the opener. That’s what you call caution when you also call yourself a contender. It’s like hiring a lifeguard who’s told “just sit in the chair, maybe blow the whistle if you want.”

Oh, and then they re-signed gray haired, “Unc” Chris Paul — yes, that Chris Paul, back again despite no one outside this franchise seriously wanting him (or his contract). It smacks of nostalgia more than it does progress. It feels like the Clippers said: “Let’s bring back the old guy who once led us to mediocrity and hope lightning strikes.” Spoiler: it won’t.

Meanwhile, in the same city, the Los Angeles Lakers — for all their self-destruction, roster illusions, and internal circus — still grab all the attention. The Lakers eat themselves alive just about every season, and yet they’re still the center of Lakers Nation. They’ll keep getting the breaks, the spotlight, the legacy credit. The Clippers? They play second fiddle in L.A. and they’re willingly stuck there because they convinced themselves the move to Los Angeles was the big break. But maybe the big break was moving out.

Let’s entertain what could’ve been: the Clippers relocating to Seattle, Vegas or San Diego. Imagine avoiding the dusty shadow of the Lakers, building a unique identity, ownership not spending purely for flash but for culture. They could’ve been Seattle’s team again — reconnect with history — or launched in Vegas as a fresh entertainment-sports brand, or dominated San Diego while the Lakers stayed north. Instead, they settled for “we’re in L.A., we must win,” yet they built nothing that resembles that.

They’re wasting time playing second fiddle — they cannot unsee it now. The fans buy into it, too: Clipper Nation acts like “We’re the underdog, we’ll rise,” yet each year the org proves its own incompetence. The franchise’s dysfunction is the baseline expectation. When you open as favorites and still get blown out by a rebuilding team like Utah, you don’t just stumble — you tumble.