We have been reminded again these past few weeks how powerful the imagination can be in sports, how easy it is to trigger in the very soul of a sports fan.

Daniel Jones has relit that spark among a fresh generation of Giants fans who’d already started tasting life in the wilderness, even after only two weeks on the job.

Mets fans may have thought they had a nice young player with pop when Pete Alonso broke camp with the team in March; what he became across six months and 162 games and 53 balls launched over the sky was a full-bloom dreamscape for any fan who invests even a little bit of his soul in the games people play. The fact Jones and Alonso have, so far, exceeded even the wildest fantasies of those fans speaks to why hype and hyperbole are always part of the fanatic’s toolbox.

Because you never know.

You can dream about Mitchell Robinson, too. Right now, the dreaming is the very best part, in fact, because there is no telling what kind of player he can become.

Knicks coach David Fizdale was asked Tuesday what Robinson’s ceiling could be and Fizdale quickly shook his head.

“I don’t like to make those kinds of predictions when you’re talking about an athlete like that,” he said, “because you don’t know what he can do, or what he can turn into. He’ll tell me.”

He is still part prospect, part project, and the wrestling match between those elements of his game will go a long way toward defining who he is, what he can be.

He is 7-foot-1, 240 pounds, he will play almost this entire year as a 21-year-old, he can take your breath away and make you shake your head, often in the same possession.

It’s those breathtaking moments that tend to linger.

“We played at the Garden last season,” said Julius Randle, the highest-profile member of the Knicks’ various offseason acquisitions, then a member of the Pelicans. “I got past the first person and Mitch kept coming. He comes out of nowhere.

“I’m like, ‘Who in the world is this kid? Get him out of here!’ I’m trying to be physical, get him in foul trouble. He was just everywhere.”

Randle smiled.

“I’m glad he’s on my team,” he said. “I don’t have to deal with him now.”

Of course, that was simply one slice of Robinson’s rookie year. There were plenty of other nights where he was barely a whisper on the court, barely a rumor, before he’d pick up a batch of fouls and be vanquished to the bench.

There were plenty of mind-blowing moments around the basket last year, where his length and his skill made the Garden roar in spite of itself and in spite of the scoreboard, but he was so limited on that end of the floor that, in total, he made exactly three jump shots all year. Three. Everything else was dunks, layups, tip-ins, putbacks.

The imagination insists: this could be a freakish player someday, maybe the most important building block already on the roster.

Reality counters with this: plenty of talented kids have had a moment or three under the bright lights, and there’s always someone else waiting just behind. The ones with staying power have something extra. Does Robinson have that?

Fizdale thinks so. The coach was happy with what he saw Tuesday, in the team’s first official practice: “He’s more disciplined. Multiple times guys tried to get him in the air and he did a great job staying down, not falling for shot fakes with his hands and taking cheap fouls. It’s his second lap and he’s more comfortable with his place here.”

Robinson thinks so. He stayed after practice to work on his jumper, drained a few long ones, even knocked down a 3.

“I’m shooting the thing now,” he said. “We have vets now. We just got extra work, getting them up, getting something done every day after practice.”

And his defense?

“Now I’m sliding my feet, not sticking my hand in there and getting silly fouls,” he said. “I can give up a few blocks but I’m still going to challenge the shot. If I don’t get it, nine times out of 10 I will alter the shot. So I can give up a few to make a better defensive team.”

Confidence is one thing. Performance is another. Still, it was easy to be struck by Pete Alonso’s confidence in Port St. Lucie in April, and Daniel Jones’ in July.

Sometimes talk is just talk. And sometimes it really can be something else. Imagination can be a wonderful thing.