…NYC’s most famous fans showed out for the Knicks’ (insane) Game One victory against Cleveland. Here’s Vanity Fair’s Celebrity Row Power Rankings (30 Rock supremacy, for me). You’re going to be served a lot more Knicks fare over the few weeks, and some of it will be pretty, pretty good, like this story of how the Knickerbockers got their name.

It should be said that Kansas City is one of the best soccer cities in the country. Since 2009 $700 million has been invested in soccer-related infrastructure in KC. So, despite the city having the smallest population of all the American host cities in the World Cup, it makes sense they’d play games there. ESPN’s Elizabeth Merrill explains. 

Caitlin Clark will be grand marshal of the 2026 Indy 500. Since I don’t know what that actually means, I’m imagining when The Grinch is elected Holiday Cheermeister. Just kidding, it means she’ll be the one to say, “Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines.” 

Unrivaled fans: If you want game-worn jerseys, locker room signs, or game balls, go bid on some at The Realest. Don’t say I never put you onto anything cool.  

Before Shai Gilgeous-Alexander was given his MVP trophy, ESPN’s Shams Charania broke the news that SGA was to be crowned the league’s best player. Fans were mad and Blake Griffin told Shams to go to brunch, which I guess is better than saying “go take a hike!” Front Office Sports’ Ryan Glasspiegel explains why this type of scoop would never happen in the NFL.

I’ve been trying to find something extraordinary or insightful to say about Victor Wembanyama, because I believe he deserves not just one thinkpiece, but an anthology of them. He deserves everything. We should be studying this person’s brain and body and heart every step of his career (only with his consent, of course). The challenging part about this is that Victor Wembanyama is like no one sports has ever seen. 

There are parts of him that feel familiar to players from bygone decades (his extracurriculars — which I’ll get into later — and intellectual curiosities evoke Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, for instance). His style of play might be considered KD-esque, if you added 6 inches of height. 

Yes, I am in awe of Wemby when he confidently pulls up from 30 feet. But I am just as in awe of Wemby when he’s defending his joy of reading before games (neuroscience says it reduces stress), or when he answers a postgame question as frank as can be. 

My coworker, Terence, says he’s a villain, in a way. “He smiled the whole game,” he told us in our daily meeting. He slapped the floor, he laughed often, he flexed. He also famously dislikes Chet Holmgren, which is villain behavior. So maybe Terence is right, but if we do take him for a villain, he probably falls into the Dexter-type villain. Yes, he’s a serial killer, but he’s our serial killer and we love him. 

For the same reasons Terence finds him a villain, which I do think he means positively, I find him to be a hero. I think we are making the same point, even. Especially since in real life, no one is just hero or just villain. 

Victor Wembanyama, to me, is either the last truly authentic athlete or the first truly authentic athlete. Either way, it’s a complete breath of fresh air to watch him in action (any kind of action). He set the entire internet ablaze in Game One of the Western Conference Finals by winning a double overtime game I admittedly thought would be one-sided the other way (condolences if you are a Thunder fan, by the way). And then he quite literally said “I told you, so.” 

I asked Friend of OffBall and notable Spurs fan, Shea Serrano, what makes Victor unlike anyone else. He replied with this: 

He is the combination of two things, those things being (1) An innate and obvious desire to be the best player in the game; and (2) A person talented enough and athletic enough to make a bona fide run at the claim. Those two things together are how you end up with someone like Wemby. And then you add in the fact that this is all happening for the first time inside a guy who is 7-foot-5, and that's how you end up with everyone saying that we're looking at something we've never, ever, ever seen before.

I know that’s all true, but it's the off court, stuff, too. By now, everyone has talked ad nauseam about that winter day he played chess with strangers in New York City’s Washington Square Park, but what goes unmentioned is that you can see the light in his eyes. He approaches the unknown with curiosity and openness, and he approaches his goals with a logical stoicism. And when he wants to break, he does. He lets himself cry. He spends a vegetarian summer eating with monks. He understands that life is fragile. And he says that. (Please, watch the feature linked below).

In my favorite sports doc of all time, Court of Gold, Victor said he’s never had the option to be normal, and I know he meant physically, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say those spectacularities probably leaked into his mind and heart, too. Because when you line him up among the other 500-something players in the NBA, he’s completely abnormal (positive). His body is alien-ish, yes, but in a sea of athletes protecting pocketbooks, partnerships, and endorsements, his thoughts are a bit alien, too. 

The 22-year-old, whose frontal lobe hasn’t even fully developed, seems more sure of himself than most people I know. He even admitted the Spurs have tried to give him PR training, and he rejected it. 

Surely, there have been athletes as true to themselves as Wemby, but I don’t know that I’ve seen it firsthand, in my lifetime. So, you tell me, is he the last authentic athlete? Or the first? Or maybe he’s just French. 

When I saw the world’s surprise reaction to Neymar making Brazil’s World Cup roster, I was confused. “He’s one of the greats...Of course he should make it,” I thought. 

But, because he’s been sidelined by injuries, and because it will be his last World Cup ever, and because whether or not he deserves the spot is up for debate, the announcement that he’d make the roster was a major one.

To an American like me, it’s a no-brainer either way. Not only do they get the veteran presence on the team, it’s a story of triumph, and it’s good for the brand (which is what we in America call “the team”) because it means more people will tune in.