Donald Trump may be fighting geopolitical fires overseas, but at home, he’s walking into what might be his most unpredictable battleground yet: Madison Square Garden. He intends to go to an NBA Finals game. “I think I’ll be going to one of the games,” he said. But the question on everyone’s mind isn’t whether he’ll show up. It’s whether New York will show him love—or bury him in boos.

Here’s what I’m going to show you. The hidden beef between Trump and New York City isn’t about policy. It’s about pride. It’s about a native son who got chased out of his own backyard and now wants to come home for a victory lap. But the man who runs the city, Mayor Eric Adams, isn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat. And when our cameras caught up with him, his answer revealed more than he probably intended. By the time we’re done, you’ll understand why the Knicks game is about more than basketball. Why the mayor’s non-answer was actually the loudest response he could give. And why the $250 bill—yes, that again—is somehow tied to all of this.

“He’s going to get booed,” our host predicted. “Why open himself up to that?”

“He went to Florida because he knew he wasn’t liked in New York,” another voice countered. “But he is a New York guy.”

“Charles hasn’t lived in New York for seventy years,” someone joked. “Yet he still considers himself a New Yorker.”

The debate raged. Would Trump get booed? The tickets are expensive. This isn’t the run-of-the-mill New Yorker at these games. It’s a different crowd. Wealthy. Corporate. Maybe more forgiving. Or maybe not.

Our camera guy caught up with Mayor Eric Adams and asked the question everyone wanted answered.

“Would you go with him to a game?”

Adams didn’t hesitate. “If the president went to a game, that’s his decision to make. If I go to the game, I’ll be doing so separately.”

He knows. He knows why he’s not walking in with Trump. Because he knows Trump’s going to get booed. And no mayor wants to be standing next to that.

“You know the Garden very well,” our producer pressed. “How do you think he’s going to be received?”

Adams smiled the smile of a man who has learned to say nothing while appearing to say everything. “New Yorkers, we are an unpredictable people. I think I’d make a fool of myself if I wanted to make a prediction.”

Translation: he’s going to get booed.

But the other question: does he even cheer for the Knicks? Of course. His name is on every other block in New York. He is a New York guy. But if they’re playing Texas or Oklahoma—those are his states. He can’t cheer for New York against Texas or Oklahoma without pissing off his base.

Good luck in New York, Mr. President. Good luck in the finals, Mayor.

The Knicks game became a Rorschach test. For some, it was about sports. For others, politics. For the mayor, it was about survival. He’s a Democrat in a deep-blue city. Trump is a Republican who carried none of the five boroughs. Walking in together would be political suicide. Walking in separately? That’s just good sense.

The mayor’s non-answer was a masterclass in deflection. “Unpredictable people.” “Make a fool of myself.” He said nothing while saying everything. Trump will get booed. The mayor will be elsewhere. And the Garden will be a circus.

But the $250 bill—the one that doesn’t exist, the one Trump wants with his face on it—that’s the real tell. He’s not just coming to New York for a game. He’s coming to reclaim something. The city that raised him. The city that rejected him. The city that he still, after all these years, calls home.

Charles Barkley hasn’t lived in New York for seventy years. Yet he still considers himself a New Yorker. Trump is the same. You can take the man out of Queens, but you can’t take Queens out of the man.

“Good luck in New York, Mr. President.”

Now, the other big story. Gayle King. She found her ex-husband in bed with her friend. The details are seared into public memory—the pink satin pajama top, the green mint panties, the train station where he left her after the jig was up.

“Anybody that’s been through it knows how painful it is,” she said. “But I also know that you can go through it and get through it on the other side.”

Her ex-husband, William Bumpus, issued an apology. “I’m sorry for all the pain I caused. I ruined everything. She put me through law school.”

Is he remarried? Nope. He has a lot of different girlfriends. What’s great is he uses his Yale law degree—that she paid for—to score all these various women. Fabulous.

Gayle’s over it. “I appreciated what he had to say. This happened so long ago that we have both healed. We have both moved on. I’m in a really great place, and so is he.”

“What I’m really touched by is how it’s been resonating with other women. I want them to know it’s a very big club. None of us want to be in it. But the beauty is you can go through it and come out on the other side.”

Good for you, Gayle. Now, it’s time to focus on finding you a new man.

“I’m now singing the Ray song,” she joked. “How’s it go? Baby, where the hell’s my husband? Where is he, Harvey? Where is he?”

You can do better, Gayle.

Olivia Rodrigo. She was touring, wearing a baby doll dress. Sparked huge controversy. People said she was dressing like a baby—pedophilia kind of thing. “She took an innocent thing and made it too sexy.”

“It’s this rhetoric that we’re fed as girls since we’re so little,” she said. “Don’t wear that because then a man is going to sexualize your body, and it’s your fault.”

“I’ve been on stage in a sparkly bra and little shorts, and that wasn’t inappropriate. But me fully covered up in a dress that people deemed childlike was inappropriate?”

Who looks at that and thinks baby? It appeals to a perversion. That says something about you.

“I would never look at this and think that looks like a little baby,” one host said. “But you do.”

“Oh, really? If she came out with a pacifier and a rattle and was like, ‘I made a stinky’…”

“You’re a strange, strange guy.”

Place your bets. Just not with insider information. And preferably not on stories involving murder.

A Google employee was arrested, charged with wire fraud. He allegedly placed a bet with inside information on Polymarket—a prediction market. The question: would David be the number one searched person on Google this year? Polymarket gave it a near-zero probability. But this guy allegedly looked at Google’s internal data, saw that David had passed Kendrick Lamar, and placed a small bet.

It paid off. $1.2 million.

Federal prosecutors say he then tried to cover his tracks. Apparently not very well. They busted his ass.

My problem with this? There are 535 people who get away with this all the time because it’s legal for them. Congress. There’s no law governing insider trading for them.

“There are a lot of people under investigation for betting when the Iran war was going to start because they had inside information.”

My co-host, Mark Geragos, was at a restaurant. He overheard a conversation at the next table. They were saying the war was going to start that night. Why didn’t you bet?

“Harvey, you could have been a millionaire.”

Ah, what could have been. Please bet responsibly, everyone.

Cynthia Erivo. Everyone knows her from Wicked. She did an interview with Variety. They were playing a guessing game—famous quotes from her projects. She had to name the movie.

“We’re going to try and get one from Wicked, aren’t we? ‘You’re the only friend I ever had.’”

“Do you mind if we do another question that isn’t about Wicked? Because I feel like I’ve spent the last two years talking about it, and I think we have an opportunity to start talking about something else.”

She’s interesting. She was pretty famous as a Broadway star. Now she’s world famous. But she’s like, “I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

I totally relate to this. When we were doing O.J. Simpson, all people would talk to me about is O.J.

“That’s all you talked about.”

“You never got over it, dude.”

“Here I am, minding my own business, and you’d be like, ‘Oh, it’s the anniversary of whatever.’”

“You will never get over it. We just did Kato Kaelin’s divorce. Check the website.”

“I love Wicked, but I’ve just talked about it ad nauseam.”

Tom Hardy. Famous. Sexy. Possibly unemployed. Rumors he was fired from “Mob Land” persist. Now we have a better idea why. According to reports, he kept production crews waiting for hours. Refusing to come out of his trailer. Dilly-dallying. Purposely delaying shooting scenes as a power play.

There are a million actors who do this. Make people wait. But if I’m a crew member, I’m getting paid for doing nothing. The clock’s ticking. I’m getting overtime.

The bigger point: there are two bigger stars on set. Pierce Brosnan and Helen Mirren. They’re tired of waiting.

He’s the absolute center of the show. But they’re bigger stars? No, Tom Hardy’s a massive star. Let’s just say they’re all on pretty equal footing.

Don’t you think there’s something more to this? Like he wants more money for season two. A big negotiation. You can’t get rid of him. He’s not replaceable.

Roseanne was called Roseanne. They got rid of Roseanne. The show went on for four more years. And boy, was it terrible.

Thanks, Tom. You can dilly-dally like the best of them. See you on season three—if it gets greenlit and you’re not fired.

Congress is in recess. Again. And your White House correspondent did some weird stuff today. He made a vlog of his day.

“I have zero expectations of today and high hopes.”

Trump had a cabinet meeting. So he’s standing outside the gate, trying to guess who’s going in. Walking around, talking to landscapers at the White House.

“You’re doing a great job, mate.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Keep at it.”

It’s like giving “Cast Away.” So lonely. Delirious. He’s going to be spearing fish in the pond pretty soon.

New York Giants quarterback Jackson Dart introduced President Trump at an event. That had the whole country buzzing. Not about why the press waited so long before slowly emerging.

“I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free.”

Teammates were pissed. They don’t support Trump. Why are you up there supporting him? The team had a big meeting. Aired out everything. Decided as a group to move past this.

The solution: we have to be so afraid of what we believe in that we’re not allowed to say it. That is antithetical to America and democracy. But that’s where we are. People are afraid to express their views.

When I was young, we would scream it in the streets.

“I was against the war,” the host said, launching into a story about his youth. “I was demonstrating. But I was also against using violence to make the point. The students at my school burned down the Bank of America and started the first riot. But we coexisted. Some of the guys advocating burning the bank down were my friends.”

All right, whatever, Gandhi. Your tolerance of people you disagree with is a shining example to all of us.

See you on the gridiron, Jackson Dart.

We got the comeback of the century imminent. Can anyone guess who this singer is?

Is it Sia? No. A singer from the 2010s. Viral sensation.

Is this Susan Boyle? Yes.

Susan Boyle. She says the new era is coming. She was on “Britain’s Got Talent.” Looked like a dowdy old lady everyone thought would be a flop. Then she sang “I Dreamed a Dream” and was amazing. Paralyzed it into a career. Worth about forty million bucks.

“It’s my favorite version of ‘I Dreamed a Dream.’”

“You can’t help but get chills when you watch it.”

“I dreamed a dream in time gone by…”

Damn. She brought the house down. Hits this note at the end, and they just get blown away. I’m getting a little misty just thinking about it.

Super random linkup: Katy Perry and Chief Keef. They had a huge beef in 2013. He had a massive song called “I Hate Being Sober.” She tweeted about it, saying, “I have serious doubt for the world.” Chief responded, saying Katy Perry can “suck skin off my blank.”

She ended up apologizing. “If I offended you,” she said. But that’s not an apology.

She said, “I’m a fan of your don’t like video. I was really just having a general opinion on our generation’s desire to constantly be intoxicated.”

I was at the gym. In the bathroom. I hear a guy in the jacuzzi. He’s like eighty years old, saying, “I would drink, smoke pot, and I did a lot of LSD.” Just listing all these things. It is hilarious to listen to you imitate an eighty-year-old talk.

“So much—just do your voice. Just talk. He was four years older than me.”

Adam Carolla got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Used his speech to take playful jabs at industry liberals. Took a jab at Chelsea Handler.

“You know, when you really break down birthdays, everyone has one. The worst people in the world, the most despicable people. Hitler has a birthday. Idi Amin has a birthday. Chelsea Handler has a birthday.”

“I hate this guy,” one host said.

“Why?”

“Cuz he’s the worst. He just pissed me off. Cuz I hold a grudge from back in the day where he said—I watch TMZ. Super bitter girls who work there who need to get laid.”

Joke’s on him. She’s still mean, and she has a husband now.

The Knicks game is still coming. Trump vs. New York. The mayor vs. his own survival instincts. The fans vs. their consciences. No one knows how it will play out. That’s the point. That’s the beauty of New York.

The mayor’s non-answer will be replayed a hundred times before tip-off. “Unpredictable people.” “Make a fool of myself.” He’s not wrong. New Yorkers are unpredictable. That’s what makes them New Yorkers.

And the $250 bill—that imaginary currency—has become a symbol of something real. Trump’s desire to be everywhere. On money. On buildings. On the court at Madison Square Garden. He wants to be unavoidable. He wants to be home.

But home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling. And right now, the feeling in New York is complicated.

Good luck, Mr. President. You’re going to need it.