When the Sixers made their exhilarating run to the NBA Finals in 2001, led by the brilliance of Allen Iverson in peak MVP form, team president and minority owner Pat Croce exuded a zany, cool aura that became infectious in Philadelphia.

Croce, then in his mid-40s, literally wore rose-tinted glasses, survived a gnarly motorcycle crash and sported about as many tattoos as Iverson. In the middle of the NBA Finals, Croce scaled the Walt Whitman Bridge — nearly 400 feet above the Delaware River — and hung a banner that said, "Go Sixers — Beat L.A."

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"My hometown-boy-made-good reputation reached its zenith," Croce, 71, writes in a chapter of his new book, "Enjoy Your Self Now! 66 Sacred Shifts to Instantly Awaken the Peaceful Presence Within You."

A quarter-century has passed since that magical moment in Philly sports history and Croce has never stopped climbing.

While undergoing treatment for a rare form of bone marrow cancer, Croce ascended Mount Everest in March with a small tour group and the support of a spiritual sherpa. He's become a prominent teacher in the world of mindfulness and meditation, penning 13 books and leading a virtual community from his 53-acre Meditation Hill retreat in the Philly suburbs.

"I've been blessed with attempting to take the truth, these understandings, and tailor them to what I call 'locker room spirituality,'" Croce said during a recent conversation about self-discovery and the expectations facing this year's stacked Sixers team, led by LeBron James and company. "I'm really trying to make it available for everyone."

Croce fervently believes in the power of ancient wisdom to unlock human potential, but only if people are willing to let go of the "monkey mind" that stunts their sense of attunement with the world one moment at a time. 

"I don't delve into the past — with two exceptions," Croce said. "Joyful memories and learning experiences."

The 2001 Sixers are arguably one of the most fondly remembered runners-up in NBA history, but the pain of their finals loss became a turning point for Croce. By July of that year, he stepped down as team president after a falling out with Ed Snider, the late owner of the Flyers and Comcast Spectacor, which also owned the Sixers at the time.

Croce wanted to assume a larger role at the company, and he had been negotiating an extension that would have made him the CEO of Comcast Spectacor alongside Snider as chairman.

"I'm not good at just status quo," Croce said of his pursuit, which followed many years as a physical therapist for the Sixers and Flyers while rising up the ranks of the organization.

Snider and Croce traded a volley of slights in the press during the summer of 2001, and Croce ultimately landed on the front page of the Philadelphia Daily News with the headline, "See Ya Later, Motivator." His exit from the Sixers left him with a bruised ego and a deep need to reflect on his direction in life. 

"You embrace that uncomfortable feeling — that disappointment of frustration," Croce said. "You clinch it and then you let it go, and then the eye is for investigating it."

Croce has followed an eclectic entrepreneurial path in the years since he left the Sixers. He embraced his lifelong fascination with pirates — including by growing his wispy beard — by opening a series of themed restaurants in Florida and financing several archeological expeditions to recover shipwrecks in the Caribbean and Central America. Some of the artifacts his crews discovered are now displayed at Croce's St. Augustine Pirate & Treasure Museum.

The journey into spirituality — what Croce describes as a radical shift of perspective — started in 2015 when he boarded a flight for a vacation in Key West with his wife. He happened to read an interesting quote in a magazine from travel writer and novelist Pico Iyer. 

“So much of our life takes place in our heads — memory or imagination or interpretation or speculation — that if I really want to change my life, I might best begin by changing my mind," Iyer wrote. 

Croce remembers reading those words as a moment of pure serendipity. He soon became a voracious reader of the Dalai Lama, Rumi, Pema Chödrön and other great sages of Eastern and Western traditions across centuries. 

"Before, I would think that was hippie s---," Croce said. "Like, what are you talking about — meditation?"

It took Croce a while to quit worrying about how people would react to his spiritual transformation.

"They're going to say, 'What are you talking about, guy? You selling me something else now? You were selling me tickets one day. You sell me drinks at your bars one day. You're selling me pirate tickets. Like, what?' That first year I was quiet, and then once everything started going, I realized this is here to stay."

In late July, when LeBron James announced he was signing with the Sixers on a veterans minimum deal to play his 24th NBA season, Croce was as stunned as everyone else in Philadelphia.

"Holy s---!" he recalled thinking. "I wish he was available when I ran the team."

The Sixers, who open the 2026-27 regular season Tuesday against the New York Knicks, haven't won a title since 1983 and have not returned to the finals since the Croce era. The scars of Process-era playoff failures have haunted Sixers fans for years, and the team pushing all of its chips in with James and the trade for Jaylen Brown have put this year's group at the center of the NBA universe. 

Croce sees an "incredible team" taking shape with Joel Embiid, Tyrese Maxey, VJ Edgecombe and a promising bench in the fold, but that kind of stardom also comes with growing pains and tests of the ego. 

"Coach (Nick) Nurse, he's got challenges right now," Croce said. "He's got so much talent that, OK, 'How do I do this? ... How do I work the defense? How do I work with LeBron? How do I work to keep Maxey growing? How do I keep Embiid healthy?'" 

Everything could go spectacularly, or it could all unravel, but Croce is a big proponent of the idea that how we deal with adversity is a choice. 

"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional," he said, quoting Buddha to dispel the anguish of the Sixers' 43-year NBA championship drought.

Croce's 2001 team had nowhere near the expectations facing this year's squad, but there may be valuable lessons from that run that will serve players, coaches and fans this season. Croce referenced Hafez, the 14th-century Persian poet and Sufi mystic who once likened humans' experience of divinity to being the vessels through which beauty and synchronicity flow. 

"I am a hole in a flute that the Christ's breath moves through," Hafez wrote. "Listen to this music. I am the concert from the mouth of every creature singing with the myriad chorus." 

Croce feels that spirit was alive with Iverson and the 2001 Sixers, who found their flow state by embracing the roles of team basketball around a superstar. A few helpful bounces in the playoffs didn't hurt, either. 

"They were the best holes in the flute that they could be, and it allowed the music to be played," Croce said. "... If the minds of the players on (this year's) team are so concerned with stats, then they're not going to listen to LeBron tell them they have to sacrifice. You have to be open, empty, empty of memory, empty of projections — empty."

Some might think this level of spirituality goes against the grain of raw athletic competition, especially among professionals who value toughness and physicality above all else, but Croce thinks there is hidden strength to be found in exploring the unfamiliar.

"Vulnerability is invincibility. You can't touch me, right? No one can hurt me. No one," Croce said. "If I'm fully vulnerable, how can you hurt me? There's nothing that you can sneak around. There's nothing you can take from me. There's nothing you can jeopardize. There's nothing you can dismantle."

That lesson has allowed Croce to attempt and master hobbies he never thought he could. He's convinced this is one of the keys to realizing practical goals and elevating personal thresholds for skill.

"I didn't know I could do woodworking. I didn't know I could do Chinese and Tibetan calligraphy. I didn't know any of this stuff," Croce said. "So just imagine an athlete getting the ability to find a little more of his or her authenticity, and it bubbling up. We have no idea."

Illness has not swayed Croce's eternal optimism and thirst for life. 

"I train every day. I work out at the gym," he said. "I train hard. Nothing's ever changed."

He hopes Sixers fans can experience the upcoming season with a zen-like appreciation for the art of basketball and the community it has fostered for generations in Philadelphia. Listening to the outside noise — and getting bent out of shape over negative moments for the team — will only detract from the ride.

"Sports are reality TV at its best," Croce said. "You watch it — be entertained, be enlightened. However, when it's done, like any movie or anything else, or like bad weather versus good weather, let it go."

The 2001 Sixers season is both a joyful memory and a learning experience for Croce, who maintains a close bond with Iverson to this day.

"The team was on fire, and the city was jubilant. Sixers flags were on cars. Even if you didn't have a Sixers flag, you were feeling pride," Croce said. "That really was powerful, and that imprinted on me very, very powerfully."

Croce's new book strives to be a roadmap for people in search of tools that can help them live more fully in the present. His advice for Sixers fans is to follow this year's team with enthusiasm, not expectation. 

"Spiritually speaking, enjoy yourself now," he said. "... Watch them gel. Be a part of the journey and watch. Don't project in this 82 games to just anticipate rings and parades. We can wish that. You can think about it, but the point is that the 'now' is where life is."