By the weekend, beating the official tip off of summer which is just beyond, we’ll know who the NBA champion is.

We already are so sure, actually, we have had it confirmed yet again, that LeBron James is King o’ the Court, the best. Today anyway. Though it certainly would have been more self effacing, had he not felt compelled to verbalize that himself the other night.

It would appear that Golden State, small and quick and more dead-eyed, shall prevail. Two to win one makes them odds on.

But, stranger things have happened. Like Cleveland making it this far with neither Star #2 not Star #3 on the hardwood. Lesser forces than LeBron have willed their followers to victory. At least, I’m sure I could think of one, had I more time.

I’d love to see the Cavs win tonight. A token of appreciation to the beleaguered fans of the City on the Lake. A further testament to the strength of James’ broad shoulders.

More important to we of Hoopaholics Anonymous. It would mean, one more tilt on Friday, before we the addicteds go cold turkey on the entirety of the men’s game until autumn.

Apparently the sports fans in Cleveland are already ready to go back on Manziel Watch ’15. Tickets are available for tonight’s Game Six.

But, in a stamp of approval for the NBA’s Stars First philosophy, TV ratings are up like they haven’t been for years.

Thank you headbandless LeBron.

Thank you mouthguard chewing Steph.

Stars shine. The games themselves have been . . . uh . . . compelling. But the hoops . . . well . . . less so, extra time or not.

Last year, there was a real reason to watch. For the occasional fan, as well as the aficionado.

San Antonio’s Spurs played a beautiful game. As poetic as we’ve seen in a long while, perhaps ever. Or, at least since Princeton almost offed the Hoyas in the NC2A.

This season not so much. LeBron, backside running interference, tom toming his way for a little turnaround against one of the Warrior’s comparative 95 lb. weaklings, is reasonably effective, but aesthetically displeasing.

Even GS, when it’s Bombs Away, draining treys far more often than the bombardiers in that video app in the noxious advert that’s this year’s “What are you wearing, Jake from State Farm?,” is less than lovely basketball.

Yes, watching Curry the Younger grab a pass and release the rock in a nanosecond, then watching it arc like an eephus pitch through the twine is exhilarating. But observing GS, time and again, scurry down the court on a break, then stop and fire a long range missile, instead of finishing a classic 3 on 2 is like ordering Katz’s pastrami on white with mayo.

What’s confirmed beyond peradventure by this Finals matchup is the reality that the West was clearly better than the East this season. Duh. If LeBron and the Four Dwarfs is the best the right coast has to offer, shame on ’em.

So, not that it matters, I’m pretty sure Golden State will prevail. Likely, but hopefully not, tonight. I’m also pretty sure that James will win the MVP, his boast notwithstanding. Though Curry and Iggy will get consideration.

And I know that by Saturday noon, at the latest, I’ll be Basketball Jonesin’, sneakin’ peeks at the WNBA for a fix.

— Seedy K