Close, Not Enough: The Knicks’ Dangerous Dance With Inconsistency

 

 

On a Friday night in Phoenix that felt a whole lot like a spring warning siren, the Knicks once again showed you exactly who they are right now — a team that can look like a playoff problem for anybody one minute, and then like a first-round exit waiting to happen the next.

They lost 112–107 to the Suns, in a game that somehow felt both closer than it was and more troubling than the score. Devin Booker gave them 31, Dillon Brooks gave them 27, and the Knicks gave us another reminder that consistency, the one thing you absolutely have to pack for a long playoff trip, is still sitting at home.

The Knicks made one of their patented fourth-quarter charges. They always do. OG Anunoby hit a three to pull them within four. Mitchell Robinson had a layup and then that alley-oop dunk that made it 101–99 and had you thinking, here we go again, this is who they’re supposed to be. A minute later Anunoby tied the game at 103, and suddenly it felt like one of those nights where the Knicks bully a good team into blinking.

Only this time, they blinked first.

Booker calmly hit a jumper. Royce O’Neale, who apparently turns into Ray Allen against the Knicks, buried a three. Free throws followed. The Knicks, for all their hustle and heart, just didn’t have the finishing touch when it mattered most. Again.

This is what makes the current Knicks so maddening, sir. Jalen Brunson gave them 27. Miles McBride played like a guy who belongs in big moments, scoring 17. Karl-Anthony Towns grabbed 12 boards and gave them 15 points. Anunoby was strong on both ends. On paper, that’s a team that should be winning games like this, not losing five of seven.

But basketball games aren’t played on paper. They’re played in those little pockets of time when you either get a stop, make a shot, or don’t. The Suns did. The Knicks didn’t.

Phoenix had a 14-0 run late in the third quarter that blew the game open to 92-80. That’s where this game was really lost, even if the Knicks tried to steal it back later. You can’t keep digging those holes against playoff-caliber teams and expect to keep climbing out of them. Eventually, the ladder breaks.

And that’s the quiet fear creeping in as the postseason gets closer. The Knicks can beat anybody on a given night. They can also lose to anybody. They’re tough, they’re physical, they’re proud — but they’re also wildly uneven. One quarter they look like a team that could win a first-round series. The next, they look like a team that might not survive it.

Playoff basketball doesn’t reward almost. It punishes it.

This Knicks team keeps flirting with the version of itself that could make some noise in May, and then wandering off for ten or twelve minutes at a time. Against Phoenix, that wandering happened in the third quarter. Against somebody like Boston or Milwaukee in a seven-game series, that kind of lapse can end your season in a hurry.

There’s still time, sir. The talent is real. The defense is real. Brunson is as real as they come in the clutch. But the margin for error is shrinking, and nights like this — where they fight hard, come back, and still walk off the floor with another loss — start to feel less like bad luck and more like a pattern.

And patterns are what decide who’s still playing when the real basketball starts. 

Detroit Delivered the Message New York’s Been Ignoring

 

This wasn’t a loss. This was a message, and it was delivered in capital letters by the Detroit Pistons at Little Caesars Arena.

121–90.

That’s not basketball nuance. That’s a blowout with a thesis.

The New York Knicks have now lost four straight, and if you’re looking for the moment when things tilted, it wasn’t tonight—it was when they won that little Emirates Cup and apparently decided the job was finished. Got the cup. Took the pictures. Acted like banners come with receipts.

They don’t.

Here’s the hard truth:
If your under-6-foot guard is your leading scorer and a defensive liability, you win cups—not chips.

Jalen Brunson had 25 points. That’s respectable. It’s also the problem. Again.

Championship teams don’t ask their smallest player to be their best scorer, emotional leader, late-clock savior, and defensive eraser all at once. That’s not a formula—that’s desperation dressed up as grit.

Meanwhile, Detroit looked like a team that knows exactly who it is.

Cade Cunningham ran the game like a grown man who remembered May 1 and didn’t forget a thing. Twenty-nine points. Thirteen assists. Controlled pace. Controlled space. Controlled New York’s guards like he was calling out their plays in advance. The Pistons dominated the paint, dominated the glass, and—most importantly—dominated the Knicks’ will.

This was personal, and it showed.

Detroit won the rebounding battle 44–30. They outscored New York 52–34 in the paint. Then they opened the second half with a 19–5 run that felt less like basketball and more like an intervention. Cunningham scored or assisted on nearly everything while the Knicks missed 14 of 16 shots and looked stunned that effort alone wasn’t enough.

That’s when games turn into lectures.

The Knicks shot well in the first half and still trailed. That should’ve been the warning sign. When your shooting percentages are pretty but the score isn’t, it means you’re being beaten where it counts—inside, on the boards, in the details grown teams care about.

This is what happens when you confuse progress with arrival.

Winning a midseason cup doesn’t make you a contender. Beating teams in December doesn’t erase structural flaws. And no amount of toughness talk covers up the reality that New York still lacks a true offensive hierarchy that works in April, May, and June.

Got your little cup. And then shut it down.

Detroit didn’t just beat the Knicks tonight—they exposed them. And until New York fixes the imbalance at the heart of its roster, this won’t be the last time a team treats them like a celebration that lasted too long.