Phil Mushnick

Once again, there was no Commissioner, the real-deal kind — the kind with a capital C — to stand up, stand out and deliver on behalf of the good of their game.

What have we here? Has Rob “The Neglectful” Manfred finally established a precedent that was both too long in coming and likely unsustainable given his look-the-other-way track record? As of Thursd…

Throughout my 50 years covering sports for The Post, written about a recurring phenomenon: Tickets to the biggest events always end up in the wrong hands — no explanations given, no paid receipts provided.

Wednesday's Knicks-Spurs Game 1 was amazing for how the ABC/ESPN crew — the invisible, unheard crew, from cameramen to tape operators — treated it. It was treated like a basketball telecast, no reason to abandon it to press “look what we can do!” buttons.

Will MLB commish Rob Manfred, upon viewing the episode, be pleased? Impressed by this player’s behavior as fulfilling his own pandering plan to infuse MLB with “fun”?

Anyway, this column is dedicated to the memory of Al McGuire, who, as an NBC college basketball analyst, showed up not knowing any of the players, but he sure knew the game — and the human condition.

Now that gamblers are our sports' VIPs, relied upon to sustain or grow TV rights payments, I was struck last Saturday by the sight of the man who first taught me about the sick and twisted fickleness of those who place the bets.

Switch between CA and NY editions here. These are confusing days. Two plus two has become a matter of opinion, and nothing good can be enjoyed without moral compromise.

Don't know if he's able to provide an objective self-inspection, but Jimmy Dolan should cease his sudden public me-dancing to thank Leon Rose and Jalen Brunson for his overnight face-lift.

“Coming to a ballpark near you: As Jazz Chisholm Jr. steps into the batter's box, he says to the umpire, ‘Here, hold my beer.' ”