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L.A.'s Derek Fisher hits a game-tying 3-pointer over Orlando's Jameer Nelson late in the fourth quarter Thursday.
L.A.’s Derek Fisher hits a game-tying 3-pointer over Orlando’s Jameer Nelson late in the fourth quarter Thursday.
Mark Kiszla - Staff portraits at ...
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ORLANDO, Fla. — He is the Zen Master. And you’re not.

Sorry, Red Auerbach. Phil Jackson is the greatest coach in NBA history. And, soon, he will have the 10 championships to prove it.

If you believe a team reflects the personality of its coach, then you know why the Los Angeles Lakers calmly won Game 4 of the Finals, overcoming a five-point deficit late in the fourth quarter to win 99-91 in overtime, as the Orlando Magic melted down faster than a ice cream cone dropped on a Disney World sidewalk on a sweltering summer day.

Here’s the difference between Jackson and Orlando coach Stan Van Gundy, who constantly looks like a man who is already 15 minutes late for his wedding and has lost his car keys.

Before tipoff of a game that would put the Lakers one victory from winning the series, somebody tried to get a rise out of Jackson by asking if the 63-year-old coach was now nothing more than the hood ornament on a car driven by L.A. superstar Kobe Bryant.

“Kobe is doing a lot of the work,” said Jackson, his answer punctuated by an amused smile. “I’m just kind of sitting here on my chair.”

Nothing shakes Jackson. No wonder the Lakers are unflappable, even when all appears lost.

In defeat, Van Gundy was all exasperated sighs, crooked eyebrows and over-caffeinated jitters.

Dismissing the veteran poise that Lakers guard Derek Fisher displayed by sticking the key 3-point shot of both regulation and overtime with a startling lack of judgment or respect, Van Gundy blurted that the Magic’s lack of playoff experience “had nothing to do it. That’s what I’ve got to say about that. Nothing. We’ve played enough basketball games. It’s a basketball game.”

OK, chill out, dude.

Maybe if Van Gundy’s players had a role model on the Orlando bench who didn’t act like his hair was on fire at crunch time, the Magic would not have blown a 12-point halftime lead at home, missed 15-of-37 free throws or coughed up an 87-82 lead with 1 minute, 34 seconds remaining in the fourth quarter.

Orlando center Dwight Howard looked like Superman for most of Game 4, producing 16 points, 21 rebounds and nine blocked shots.

But as Lakers legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar had told me, when asked to evaluate the status of Howard’s basketball education: “He’s still offensively kind of raw. . . . He could be more skilled offensively.”

And Superman’s kryptonite is the free throw, when everybody in the arena, including Howard, is too uptight to breathe.

After Hedo Turkoglu hit a running 12-foot jumper to put the Magic ahead by five points with 1:34 left in regulation, it appeared the best-of- seven series would be tied at two victories apiece.

But Orlando did not score again in regulation.

Given an easy chance to end the drama with 11.1 seconds remaining and the Magic still ahead 87-84, Howard clanked two free throws.

Oops.

Without hesitation, Fisher immediately made him pay severely for that mistake and sent the game to overtime on L.A.’s next offensive possession by drilling a dramatic 3-point shot over the outstretched hand of defender Jameer Nelson.

In overtime, with the score tied 91-91 in the final minute, Bryant kicked a pass back to Fisher beyond the top of the key, and the veteran guard, thought too old and too slow, made the most crucial 3-point jumper of these NBA playoffs.

In celebration, all Fisher did was smile.

He later explained: “I sensed that was the dagger.”

And it went straight through the heart of the Magic.

The Lakers know how to win. Orlando does not. Now, the Magic, like the Nuggets in the Western Conference finals, has to wonder how it keeps losing to what often appears to be an inferior team.

“It’s just too cliche to say it’s all about Finals experience . . . as if all of a sudden we’re playing with 11-foot baskets and a smaller court or something like that,” Van Gundy said. “I don’t buy it.”

The man is a fool.

Here’s the thing about Jackson. He absorbs the stress of the situation and lets the players shine.

His greatness is reflected silently in the diamonds of all those championship rings.

Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com

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