Here’s the thing about Jalen Brunson:

It wasn’t that we didn’t understand how good he was. We did. Maybe the NBA needed some convincing even after he’d had a wonderful career at Villanova, became the rare modern player to win two NCAA titles. But once he arrived in the league, and especially last year, it was clear he belonged.

It was right around this time last year when the buzz began that not only might the Mavericks let Brunson walk, but the Knicks were quietly beginning to target him. There was nothing not to like about that from the Knicks’ standpoint. Brunson was good, and getting better. He was a pure point guard, something that has been so elusive for so many years at Madison Square Garden.

When the deal was done, the Knicks were rightly praised: It was a smart, sound, excellent basketball decision. Brunson was a nice player, a smart player, a glue player, an excellent teammate, all of it. So it isn’t surprising that he has been good.

What’s surprising is he has been great.

As in: legit great. As in: an absurd snub from the All-Star Game. As in: 23.8 points per game (almost eight higher than his previous season best) on 48.2 percent shooting, with 6.1 assists per game and 84 percent shooting from the line.

When a team — especially a team in New York — makes a deal, the hope is always that the player will justify the expense, whether it’s a big free-agent deal or a high-profile trade. Mostly, what you hope for is for that player to match expectations. That doesn’t always happen, but it happens enough.

The Yankees signed Reggie Jackson in 1977 to provide the final piece of a championship puzzle; he delivered exactly what he was expected to. The Mets traded for Gary Carter in 1985; when they won it all in 1986, it was wonderful, but it was also exactly what the Mets had hoped would happen they added Carter.

Mark Messier was the best transaction in the history of the Rangers, but he already brought five Stanley Cup rings with him; when he added a sixth in 1994, ending a dreaded curse in the bargain, it was one of the great New York success stories ever, but it was also merely commensurate with what Neil Smith had hoped for by pulling the trigger on that deal.

Much rarer are the players who show up and are even better than their advance notices. It just doesn’t happen that often.

I keep thinking of Paul O’Neill when I watch Brunson play. O’Neill had always been a fine player in Cincinnati, a line-drive hitter who burned to win, and though the deal Stick Michael made prior to the 1993 season seemed a sound one, it wasn’t like Yankees fans expected a perennial All-Star in return. When he arrived, his average year across five full years as a Red was this: .259/.337/.428, with 18 homers and 76 RBIs.

In nine years as a Yankee, he was .303/.377/.492, with 21 homers and 95 RBIs. But even more to the point were his first two years as a Yankee, 1993-94, when he was .331/.409/.546, finishing third in the MVP voting in ’94. It took about 15 minutes for even dissenters of the deal to forget Roberto Kelly’s name.

Michael knew he was getting a good player on Nov. 3, 1992. But even a wise man like Stick probably had zero idea he was acquiring a player whose number would someday hang in Monument Park.

Think of comparable acquisitions and you begin to realize how rare this is. Babe Ruth is probably the gold standard. The Yankees knew they’d robbed the Red Sox, but couldn’t possibly know just how egregious that theft really was. Dave DeBusschere was an All-Star in Detroit; he became a part of a fable in New York City. But who else?

Maybe you can include someone like Curtis Martin, who already had three 1,000-yard rushing seasons as a Patriot before the Jets acquired him and became even better, one of the two or three best backs of his generation. Maybe you can include Jason Kidd, who was an All-Star in Dallas and Phoenix, but in his first three years with the Nets took his career to an entirely different level — finishing second, ninth and eighth in the next three MVP votes. Scott Stevens was an All-Star in Washington; he became a Hall of Famer with the Devils.

It’s rare when it happens, and it’s something to see. Just like Brunson as a Knick.

Very quietly, Speedy Claxton has authored one of the terrific stories of the New York basketball winter at his alma mater, Hofstra, which just keeps getting better and better. If a certain other New York-area college coaching job were to become available, he should immediately hop to the top of the short list.

Sometimes Julius Randle can make you shake your head over some of the things he does on a basketball court. And sometimes, like Friday night in Washington, he reminds you just how fun he can be to watch.

I’m sure I’d watch anyway, but if Kevin Costner leaves “Yellowstone” before we get something close to a satisfying resolution, wouldn’t that be like Aaron Judge deciding to take a vacation last September when he was sitting at 59?

If I made the kind of coin that Aaron Rodgers does, I’d find me a nice beach somewhere to spend my downtime, and not a darkness retreat. Maybe it’s me.

Donald Almeida: I am a trustee and 1973 graduate, so I may be biased, but great article on Fordham — you captured the two teams and their relationship to each other perfectly.

Vac: Fordham has always been a basketball school waiting for the basketball team to catch up to the fans’ passions. That’s the best part about this year.

Kevin Clowe: I agree with your column on Jacque Vaughn and that the Nets seem to have gotten it right this time. But they also had it right with Ken Atkinson, until the two carpetbaggers, Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving, fired him. It still irritates me how everyone in that saga, including Sean Marks, skated.

Vac: That makes two of us, Kevin.

@schwababcycler: When it comes to the Knicks, I’m from Missouri.

@MikeVacc: After this long a journey in the wilderness, it’s understandable to want a little more “show-me” before putting all your chips in the middle.

Charles Costello: If Vin Scully was the voice of baseball, Tim McCarver was its sound. McCarver and Ralph Kiner on Channel 9. Phil Rizzuto and Bill White on Channel 11. My God, what a blessed baseball childhood I had.

Vac: We were all similarly charmed, Charles, no matter which team you cared about, you always watched the other guys, too, because of those voices.