IF THIS IS THE END ...

ANTHONY GETS WARM OVATION, BUT HINTS HE COULD STAY

LET’S say this as plainly as we can: Phil Jackson has been a failure in three years running the Knicks. He has been an abject failure. He has taken a team one year removed from the Eastern Conference semifinals, a team that won 38 games and fell one game shy of the playoffs the same year he was hired, and he has led them to a record of 80-166 after Wednesday’s 114-113 season-finale win over the 76ers.

Worse, he has led them to that awful purgatory of the NBA, where his own fans have spent most of the past two months actively rooting against the Knicks — and with little hope of actually achieving the No. 1 pick, simply to pick up more pingpong balls that would add a few percentage points to the possibility of finishing in the top three. That is a hell of a way to live as a fan.

This was never his plan, no matter how he tries to spin this notion with his silence and with whatever thirdparty communiqués he has provided since deciding his words weren’t worthy of the filthy-fingered public who still fills his arena to watch his wretched basketball team. He believes if he acts above the fray, he floats above the fray.

He doesn’t. This is his fray. This is his mess. This is his failure.

And if James Dolan, the owner who has his own PR problems these days, remains convinced that entrusting Jackson is the only way out of this black, bleak hole, then he still has two years to change the conversation, alter the narrative presently strangling his basketball team.

But Jackson has a lot of work to do — an impossible amount, at f irst glance. And when you consider that he couldn’t even be bothered attending three NCAA Tournament games that were played in his own arena — choosing instead to spend a few wistful, nostalgic days saluting Shaquille O’Neal and, by extension, his own glorious past as a coach — the singular question revolving around Jackson remains in play:

Does he care enough to work hard enough?

Does he really have it in him to do the heavy lifting that will be necessary to rebuild the Knicks around Kristaps Porzingis, now that it is abundantly clear everyone’s priority in the coming weeks and months will be to find an alternate place for Carmelo Anthony to finish his career?

That transaction will say so much about the final two years of this Jackson Era. Anthony remains an asset, but a devalued one thanks in large part to Jackson’s own relentless, mindless, foolish saboteur tactics. The reason why Anthony remains on the Knicks, besides the player’s own stubborn desire to stay in New York, is because Jackson couldn’t find a trade that was any better than getting 25 cents on the dollar at the deadline.

He may not be able to swing equal value. But he can’t afford to give him away for a dime on that dollar, either — though he has so little leverage heading into these proceedings, he will need to stumble into aan easy mark somewhere in the league. And good luck finding someone who actually is an easier mark than he has been.

Derrick Rose must go, that is apparent as well, and though it would be wonderful if Jackson could make it a complete career package deal with Joakim Noah, the Knicks clearly will have to suffer in silence with what already is one of the five worst free-agent signings in basketball history. Maybe in sports history. So low has the bar sunk for the expectations of Knicks fans that the transactions Jackson has pulled off that have been slight wins — Willie Hernangomez, Ron Baker, Mindaugus Kuzminskas — have been celebrated by starving fans as just this side of DeBusschere-for-Bellamy. Which is crazy. Those are three fine pieces on a winning roster. But you need to have an awful lot of pieces above them to make it matter.

The Knicks have one: Porzingis. Celebrate Jackson’s selection of him all you want, but Porzingis has yet to finish a season in uniform, and though it is obvious what a gem he is going to be, he needs help to get there. More help than the Knicks have now. More help than his history tells us Jackson will be able to provide.

Of course, he still has two years to prove this theory wrong. He has two years to make doubters wonder if they would prefer mustard or ketchup to make eating their words more palatable. He has two years to undo and to redo, and to deliver the promise he made on the day he was hired, back in the halcyon days when he actually still told us what was on his mind.