Mike Vaccaro

This had all the trimmings and all the trappings of a harsh 40-minute lesson, a reminder that the impulse for hubris always has a heaping husk of humility lurking just around the bend.

The Knicks can be scintillating. They can be fascinating. … The Knicks can be agitating. They can be aggravating.

Josh Allen is not poor, by any definition other than the number of Super Bowls in his possession. He wants to be king. Right now Patrick Mahomes is the king.

If you believe in sports as a civic trust then there's no more essential relationship than the one between a team's general manger/president/director of operations and the fan base. When a GM — (we'll simplify this going forward by referring to the decision-makers of a franchise as the GM, regardless of what the official title is) — earns the trust of his fans, that's when you achieve as close to full sporting satisfaction as the law allows.

The pity is, at this point, the greatness we are watching in real time is threatened every week to be reduced to a footnote. We are witnesses to history, to the rarest form of extended success in a time of professional sport that's supposed to be ruled by parity. But every year we have to deal with something else first.

You always hear about the Notre Dame subway alumni, and they are everywhere, every state in the union.

Poor Bills keep waiting for their ‘Next Year' to finally become reality

It's impossible to dispute the impact Rick Pitino has had in his 54-game tenure with St. John's. The Johnnies were playing as well as anyone last year when the NCAA Tournament decided to treat the Big East like a mid-major. The three games they've lost this year have been by five skinny points.

Karl-Anthony Towns had just missed a 3-pointer, badly. It's been a bit of a struggle for Towns since he banged up his wrist a few weeks ago.

He was a fired coach walking, he already knew that, but Andy Reid figured: If I'm going out anyway, I ought to remind everybody I was in the room.