In retrospect, there was probably one thing Phil Jackson did during his time running the Knicks that should be studied by all of New York’s sports franchises, but especially by the Mets. He wasn’t given credit for it at the time. I’m not 100 percent sure, but I think he might actually have been ripped for it in this space.

(Actually, I am sure. Upon further review, I humbly ask for a mulligan.)

Because the one thing Jackson did for which he should be given an after-the-fact handshake was this: He wasn’t afraid to point out that Kristaps Porzingis, for all his dazzling potential and all of his early speed, hadn’t yet qualified for the Naismith Hall of Fame in Springfield, Mass.

Jackson didn’t feel it was part of his job requirement to pay constant homage to Porzingis, to treat him as an untouchable, to enable him to a degree at which it would be easy to blur the line between who works for whom. Some of us thought that was the final straw, that it simply proved Jackson’s ego had run amok and he was trying to alienate the one good thing he’d ever brought the Knicks.

In retrospect, he wasn’t picking on KP. He wasn’t being unduly harsh. He was simply being honest in his own appraisals. He didn’t go out of his way to fawn. He didn’t allow Porzingis or his people to alter what, for better or worse, was a basketball IQ that had taken 50 years to shape.

For his trouble, of course, Jackson was a) blown off by KP in what would’ve been their final season-ending meeting, and b) fired.

Still … you have to believe Mets general manager Sandy Alderson, for one, had to wake up Saturday morning and wonder what would have happened if he and the rest of the Mets’ baseball operations had been as consistently intransigent at establishing the boss-worker boundaries with Matt Harvey as Jackson was with Porzingis.

There is a strand of revisionist history that pops up now, that the Mets may be part and parcel of Harvey’s downfall because they forced him to work more in 2015 than he should have coming back from Tommy John surgery. This all manifested itself in Miami late in that season when agent Scott Boras made this an issue right as the Mets were trying to finish off a division title.

What made that so outrageous then — and it still applies — was that it was Harvey who forced that impasse because he resisted the Mets’ efforts all during that season to keep his innings under control. The Mets saw how the Nationals were roughed up — and rightly so — for simply shutting down Stephen Strasburg during the 2012 season under similar circumstances and planned to limit Harvey’s innings by simply removing him an inning or two early some starts, skipping him now and again.

And every time that happened, Harvey said no. He was feeling good. He was pitching well. He didn’t want to go five innings when he felt like he could go seven. In many ways, that whole season was a macrocosm of the ninth inning of World Series Game 5, when he convinced — or, more accurately, bullied — Terry Collins to keep him in the game against Collins’ wishes.

That’s where you can kill the Mets: When Harvey arrived in the summer of 2012, they were a dead franchise willing to attach themselves to anything that would change the narrative around them. His first week on the job, a story leaked that he’d had a confrontation with teammate Jon Rauch, and he was celebrated as the brash new kid on the block, leading with his chin in order to change a terrible culture.

Then 2013 happened, and he became an untouchable. And at no time did the Mets ever throw up a road block to Harvey’s ambition. (Which really is quite ironic; Harvey talked about idolizing Derek Jeter, but his behavior was far more akin to the circa-2000, 24-and-1 version of Alex Rodriguez — stage-managed, of course, by Boras.)

And even after he was hurt, the enabling continued. He wanted to work out in New York, not Port St. Lucie, as every other Met does (wish granted). He wanted to go to Jeter’s final home game rather than being with the Mets, who were playing a doubleheader in Washington that night (granted). He wanted to keep the ball in Game 5 (granted). And on. And on. And on.

Look, Harvey was young and he was great, and it’s hard to fault him for wanting to make these power plays. The Mets still should’ve been the grown-ups, should’ve been stronger resisting that. It seemed Alderson always wanted to, but by the time he did it was too late. And by then, it was no longer 24-and-1, it was 25-and-1.

And there was only room for 25.

The four-part, four-hour Netflix documentary “Bobby Kennedy for President” is just about as good as anything I’ve ever seen on a television screen. And I suspect you don’t have to be an RFK acolyte to feel that way.

I get that Mickey Callaway and Dave Eiland have forgotten more about pitching than I’ll ever know, and it seems like it’s all worked out OK … but when Jacob deGrom uses a sentence with the word “elbow” in it, how do you let him throw even one more pitch?

I’m pretty sure Mets fans wouldn’t be so restless about Amed Rosario if not for the fact that every kid the Yankees call up immediately starts to rake like bonkers.

I know this is inviting an army of pitchforks and torches wearing Mongo masks to pay me a visit, but I really like listening to Chris Carlin, Maggie Gray and Bart Scott on the radio.

John Countryman: Here is an oxymoron: Gary Sanchez, catcher.

Vac: I suspect there are teams — like the other one in town — who would gladly overlook those defensive deficiencies.

Johnny Roe: In regard to David Fizdale, in two or three years, let’s see what this all brings, OK. I see another three years of failure in New York. The Knicks have nothing to push them over the top.

Vac: If you’re inclined to deem this a little too cynical … you may need to walk a mile (or 15 years) in a Knicks fan’s shoes.

@jeffreymamo: Knicks fans’ favorite movie has to be “Groundhog Day.” Déjà vu all over again. But, maybe some of the Pat Riley mojo trickled down through his staff and, maybe, this time will be different. Sing it Liza …

@MikeVacc: If you’re inclined to deem this a little too optimistic … you may need to walk a mile (or 15 years) in a Knicks fan’s shoes.

Mel Gross: Matt Harvey — from Dark Knight to Silent Night to Good (K)Night.

Vac: By the end, he most resembled the Monty Python Black Knight.