Colin Cowherd Podcast - KAT Outplaying Wemby, Knicks Are A GREAT Story, Knicks Are A BAD Matchup For The Spurs, RIP Stacey King

I turned off the news. I don’t trust rage‑driven coverage that splits people.

If we get back to clear facts, we can cool down.

I caught some Stanley Cup, then started thinking about how franchises and cities bargain. With that in mind, to San Antonio: Wemby looks more Ralph Sampson than a bruiser, and Karl‑Anthony Towns has been the best player—does that surprise you?

Not really; mobile, physical bigs who beat him to spots give him trouble. He’s still producing, but New York has clogged his rolls, forced jumpers, and shown that a seven‑foot‑five frame with a high center of gravity needs scheme help in the paint and a dependable jumper.

We’re tough on twenty‑two‑year‑olds in basketball; this sport doesn’t build the same long runway football does. Let him grow and add a couple of reliable counters—maybe even a light baby hook—without expecting a finished product today.

I call it scar tissue; losing sticks to you and sands off bad habits. KAT used to blow games with mistakes, and now he’s tightened up, while the young Spurs are learning the hard way with late fouls and giveaways.

We’re in a situational excellence era, not dynasties. The Knicks fit that—scar tissue, smart tweaks, some matchup luck—against a gifted but green Spurs team.

They didn’t look elite all year, then caught fire with trust, spacing, and shot‑making. Assists surged and catch‑and‑shoot threes are falling over forty percent, which underlines how versatility, health, and the bracket matter as much as raw talent.

What hits me is maturity—three Villanova guys, a coach who listens, and players fueled by real life. Brunson’s become absurdly dependable, KAT’s playing with purpose, and this patchwork roster turned into a real family.

Mike Brown basically said this vibe is rare, and he’s right. The secret is the group, especially now that stars see constant doubles and the game tilts toward shared rhythm and drive‑and‑kick.

I’ve chased that feeling; when a group clicks, nothing beats it. These Knicks absorb runs and never crack—after game two I thought, you can’t break this team, even if San Antonio snags one.

I wouldn’t bury the Spurs; they stopped hard‑doubling Brunson, ran, and Wemby caught fire. But winning four of five with that Madison Square Garden crowd and this team’s resilience is a mountain.

There’s a reason guys crave that bond—you can see it all over this run. I had Spurs in six off their surge; what was your pick?

I flipped to Knicks in six after the film; even during San Antonio’s seventeen‑game heater, New York blew them out at MSG for the same matchup reasons we see now. KAT drags Wemby from the rim, they own the paint, and the Knicks can shape‑shift with Robinson, Bridges, Shamet, and McBride; sweep is possible, but five or six feels right.

Before we go, condolences to Stacey King—beloved Bulls voice with a giant heart, always kind when he joined us—gone far too soon. Did you ever meet him?

I didn’t get that chance. Absolute legend, and may he rest in peace.