For half a heartbeat it felt like this was going to be one more Band-Aid for a damaged coronary heart, one more time when the Knicks would play Lucy, snatch the soccer back just before you kicked it. They had been down 29 factors. They had seemed lifeless, because they were lifeless, because they seemed helpless against the Spurs.
How unhealthy was it?
At one level Victor Wembenyama poked his head with his proper index finger, a message not only to the Knicks but also the 19,812 who’d made it their mission to get under his pores and skin but instead had been given a complete completely different message.
“I’m in your head,” Wembanyama was saying.
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