SAN ANTONIO — Long before that shot in Detroit last postseason, prior to scoring 13 points in about seven minutes in Game 1 of the NBA Finals and just earlier than the college national championships, Jalen Brunson — suppressor of pressure, maestro of chaos — was a nervous wreck before a high school state championship game.Yes, Jalen Brunson has been anxious. The man whose superpower is his ability to make the impossible look easy has the same feelings you and I have. The player whose NBA career has been defined by how he rises above moments when most melt — he sometimes can’t lift the weight of the world off his chest either.Brunson, then a senior at Stevenson High School, in Lincolnshire, Ill., had one last chance to conquer the ghosts of Jabari Parker and Jahlil Okafor, both of whom led teams that ended Brunson’s run previously. As a sophomore, Brunson’s team had lost in the state semifinals to powerhouse Simeon Career Academy. As a junior, the star guard, despite a 56-point performance, and his squad had fallen short in the state semifinals to Whitney Young High School. Senior year was it, the last opportunity to back up the Illinois Gatorade Player of the Year award, the scholarship offers from every corner of the country and, most importantly, the expectations he put on himself to leave high school as a winner.He got it done. Stevenson became state champion. After the win, Brunson told local reporters this: “I feel like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. The past three years was tough for me. I feel great.”It’s hard to believe that Brunson has those feelings. The ones that keep some of us up all night. The ones that make us eat a lot, or not at all. The ones that lead to even more thoughts and, therefore, even more worries, creating a casserole of doom. The way Brunson plays basketball appears as if he’s hollow inside. People run from the moments that Brunson not only welcomes but excels in. We’ve seen it game after game. We’ve seen it shot after shot. He’s known as “Captain Clutch,” and you don’t get that nickname unless you can backhand pressure like a fly over a cookout plate.And if you zoom out more, on a professional level, Brunson’s existence is immersed in tension. He’s the face of the New York Knicks, one of the world’s biggest sports brands. It’s a franchise that hasn’t won an NBA championship in 53 years and yet has a fan base that colonizes rival arenas in bulk. Brunson is now looked at as their savior, the unassuming hero who has snatched the Knicks by the collar and lifted them out of the furrows. He has them two wins away from grabbing that elusive trophy after Friday’s nail-biter win in San Antonio. That’s pressure.Everywhere he turns, especially right now, there should be a strong sense of angst. But he says there really isn’t. How can that be? I wanted to learn about Brunson’s relationship with pressure and anxiety because, well, I’m in the process of learning about my own relationship with pressure and anxiety. So after a stress-packed Game 2, I asked him.“I view pressure … my dad, he was in the league on 10-day contracts and non-guaranteed deals,” Brunson said of his father and Knicks assistant coach Rick Brunson, who played nine NBA seasons for eight different teams. “Being able to see that, and getting older and seeing what he had to do (for his family to live), I have it easy.”It’s that thought process that, on Friday night, in the Knicks’ 105-104 win, allowed Brunson to hit what would become the game-winning free throw. It didn’t matter that he missed the other one, or that he was 7 for 25 from the field on the night. New York won the game. That’s the goal. Brunson can sleep well at night. He’s banked enough credit.