Colin Cowherd Podcast Prime Cuts - Wemby Is The Best Player In The World, Secret To The Knicks Success, OKC’s Offseason Moves

Checking in from the road, I usually try to play judge, not fan, but last night I caught myself rooting for San Antonio and thinking, can we just fast‑forward to the Wemby era. Do you ever feel that pull, like with LeBron early on, where you just want the supporting cast in place and the dynasty to begin?

SGA’s resume screams global star, yet his playoff impact didn’t translate to easy shots for his team once the Spurs stopped blitzing and funneled him to the sideline. Their shift cut OKC’s open catch‑and‑shoot threes from about twenty‑five to roughly eleven a game and slashed his paint makes, so even with tough shot‑making, he never solved the Wemby riddle.

That’s the difference with the true unsolvables—Jordan, peak Shaq, Bird, Magic—and I think Wemby lives in that lane. The Spurs’ composure on the road was striking, with timely threes, put‑backs, and a monster block, and every big bucket landed like a gut punch.

Role guys hit dagger shots, and Wemby’s rolls vacuumed the defense into the paint, spraying open looks to the weak side. He can morph by need, but even the simple ball screen with his hard dive forces high‑quality offense, which is why those young guards controlled every momentum swing.

So what now for OKC—I floated a while back that Presti might consider moving Chet, maybe J‑Dub and picks, for a true apex piece after seeing the mismatch and with Hartenstein likely gone, because running this back might just hit the same ceiling.

Even if OKC’s trio is excellent, Wemby plus that Spurs core may outpace them, and a Giannis‑type swing is messy with the cap and the optics. The smarter play is discounted talent through the draft, because Chet still raises their floor against almost everyone even if he has a Wemby problem.

Would you package picks to jump for a seven‑foot‑three Spanish rim protector, a low‑cost specialist who can help right away, since most college stars won’t touch that Finals‑level intensity?

There are intriguing bigs and wings to target, but I’d also try to keep Hartenstein on a team‑friendly number and demand Chet harden and speed up his game for this matchup. Moving him now would strip away too much of what makes them elite the other eighty‑two nights.

Switching to New York, the Knicks used to feel toxic under Dolan, who then got swept up in the Sphere while Leon Rose and Worldwide Wes installed Thibs and later Brunson; it felt like a pivot where ownership stepped back and the basketball adults took over. Am I connecting dots that are really there?

You are—Dolan was fixated on the Sphere, then empowered Rose, even though he initially preferred Jason Kidd over Thibs. Thibs cleaned up standards like Buck Showalter once did, and bringing in Mike Brown later had a Joe Torre vibe—less bluster, more balance, and exactly what they needed to clear the next bar.

Brown’s a collaborator who still holds the line, and when they sputtered he green‑lit the Karl‑Anthony Towns point‑forward tweak. Who pushed that shift when things looked shaky?

Towns suggested it and Brown owned the risk, knowing a failed reinvention of a franchise pillar could end his run. It unlocked their offense, eased Brunson’s burden, and they have been a different team since.

Villanova’s DNA—toughness, defense, grown‑up leadership—shows up in Hart, Bridges, and Brunson, and this Knicks group feels weirdly collegiate for a roster stitched together by trades. Is that culture thread as real as it seems?

It is, and it echoes the early seventies Knicks with shared joy, ball movement, and defense, plus a locker room full of adults Leon Rose prioritized. Bridges cost a haul but fit the fabric, and small human moments—like Towns honoring a fallen Marine from his high school—tell you why the city has fallen hard for this team.

I’ll defend the five‑pick price as an era thing, but Brunson’s the unicorn here—an NBA star who took a team‑friendly deal. Inside the building, how did that land?

He understood legacy beats an extra slice of money and can make it up later, and Walt Frazier sees Willis Reed’s grit and his own cool in him. It’s one of New York’s all‑time great signings, worthy of a statue for Brunson—and maybe a second for the brave soul who okayed the tampering that cost a future second to get him.