‘If it’s a boy, let’s name him Kristaps,” I half-joked to my pregnant wife. “What if the Knicks trade him?” she asked. “They would never do that,” I assured her.

They would never do that.

As a lifelong Knicks fan, the last 12 months have been a whirlwind. Coming off yet another disappointing season last year, there was suddenly hope for the first time in 20 years. Phil Jackson nailed the 2015 draft and delivered us Kristaps Porzingis.

I admit to being skeptical. But watching the gangly, baby-faced Porzingis dominate in his rookie year, there was a sense that — barring injury — we had our franchise superstar for the next 15 years. This was the guy who could finally deliver us under-45-year-old Knicks fans a championship. This was the guy to build a team around.

With the coaching situation once again in flux, Jackson hired Jeff Hornacek, who favored a modern offensive scheme far different from the hoary triangle offense Jackson loved. There was hope!

It all seems so foolish now. Within the next 45 days, Jackson’s Knicks would revert to the mean: signing or trading for overpriced, injury-plagued Joakim Noah and Derrick Rose. Jackson forced Hornacek to go back to the triangle and used his free time to harass Carmelo Anthony through the media.

Every summer is the same: Management brings in big names who sell jerseys but are too far past their prime to make the team competitive. And every time, we the fans try to convince ourselves that maybe this year will be different.

That July hope crashes and burns by Christmas every year.

Delusional optimism that invariably leads to disappointment. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

For us long-suffering Knicks fans, this cycle is all we’ve known for decades. Way back in the 1980s, I would anxiously await the delivery of “TV Guide” to see when the Knicks would be on broadcast TV, only to watch them fall apart.

It isn’t just managerial incompetence, of course. Lady Luck has been unfaithful.

Injuries robbed us of the opportunity to watch Bernard King and Patrick Ewing play together. The 1990s were our glory years, sort of, with Ewing the heart and soul of a perennial playoff team. Unfortunately, our peak coincided with the Era of Michael Jordan, who hogged all the championships for himself. And when Jordan took a baseball sabbatical, John Starks had his infamous 2-for-18 Game 7.

The turn of the century marked the transfer of ownership and control of the Knicks to James Dolan, who proceeded to destroy the franchise and torment the fans like some kind of cartoon villain. If Dolan didn’t exist, Disney would have to create him.

He hired Isiah Thomas as president in 2003. It’s tough to pick out which of the horrific signings and trades Isiah made over his tenure was actually the worst. It was as if George Costanza were running the team by trying to get fired. Dolan refused to let Thomas go.

The darkness of the Dolan years has been pierced by the occasional flicker of light — which Dolan would then extinguish as soon as possible. There was Linsanity — the half-season sensation of Harvard-grad journeyman Jeremy Lin, who finally made New York basketball fun again.

When the off-season rolled around, Dolan told him to get lost. The Houston Rockets signed him, because they aren’t run by a man who hates his team’s fans. I wonder what that’s like.

One of the cruelest fates in sports is being stuck with a bad owner. Coaches can be fired; players can be cut, traded or simply not re-signed. The owner is a dictator-for-life — though it’s the fans who feel like we’ve been given a life sentence.

At the end of this season, Jackson did the unthinkable: He dangled Porzingis in trade talks. “Good thing we didn’t name our son Kristaps, huh?” my wife asked.

Jackson’s departure ends the conversation about trading Porzingis for now, but the fact that it was even under consideration is outrageous.

I had stuck with this team through the bad and the worse. I held strong. But trading Porzingis would’ve been treason. I might have finally walked away.

Now there is once again some hope that the Knicks will bring an experienced basketball mind to run the team. Like a moth attracted to a flame, I am dreaming of a new start and a brighter future. I should know better. This is the Knicks.

Shai Markowicz lives in Brooklyn.