AMERICA AT LARGE:It had been clear throughout the play-off series that Los Angeles was a team run amok

WHILE THE Los Angeles Lakers have always been a pretty easy team to dislike, over the years they had for the most part engendered a grudging respect from opposing fans and players.

For most of the 2010-11 National Basketball Association regular season the principal question surrounding the two-time defending champions was whether a third consecutive title was within their capabilities.

By last weekend, the Lakers, having fallen behind the Dallas Mavericks three games to none in their best-of-seven Western Division semi-final, that one had already been effectively answered, and the next question became whether there might be some slender hope Phil Jackson, the taciturn Zen master who also happens to be the most accomplished coach the NBA has known, might somehow be persuaded to return for one more year at the helm.

Any possibility that might happen was eradicated in an embarrassing, 45-second interlude three minutes into the fourth period of Sunday’s Game Four. Already in the process of being humiliated on the court by the Mavericks, first Lamar Odom, and then Andrew Bynum, ensured they would beat their team-mates to the sanctuary of the locker-room by committing acts of such egregiously unsportsmanlike nature they were guaranteed to result in immediate ejection.

Following the second of these, Jackson merely rolled his eyes and briefly buried his face in a towel, but his body language spoke volumes: “Boy,” you could almost hear him saying, “eight more minutes and I’m out of this zoo forever.”

“The Lakers fans have had their hearts broke,” said Ron Artest, not usually known for being the voice of reason in these situations. “And all those people who aren’t Lakers fans are now laughing at Laker fans.”

Although the meltdown was compressed into the 45 seconds that elapsed between the flagrant, blind-side elbow with which Odom decked Dirk Nowitzki and the terrifying forearm shiver with which Bynum shot JJ Barea right out of the sky, it had been clear Los Angeles was a team run amok throughout the series.

Pau Gasol, who had been a rock of stability in the Lakers’ back-to-back championship runs in the previous two seasons, had somnambulated throughout this year’s play-offs. Kobe Bryant, when he wasn’t petulantly sulking or casting the evil eye on his team-mates, found himself succumbing to old temptations and tried to win games all by himself, which usually had the opposite effect.

And, after a season spent mostly as an advertisement for reformed behaviour, the thuggish Artest reverted to form in Game Two, committing a foul so flagrant it got him suspended for Game Three as well.

As the Lakers spiralled out of control, there were suggestions that all might not be warm and fuzzy in the LA locker-room. Earlier in the series against Dallas, Bynum had grumbled aloud that “we obviously have trust issues on this team”, which many had interpreted another way of saying “Kobe won’t pass me the ball”.

Gasol, for his part, was reportedly not speaking to Bryant because he blamed Venessa Bryant for her role in the break-up with his girlfriend.

From time to time you’ll see a boxer, well on his way to defeat, deliberately foul his way out of a fight in the mistaken belief it will spare him further embarrassment. (Mike Tyson chomping down on Evander Holyfield’s ears is the most extreme example that springs to mind.) And it looked as if Odom had something like that in mind when, with 9:06 left in the game and the Mavericks just across midcourt, he zeroed in on Nowitzki, who never saw him coming, and levelled him with an elbow. He was summarily ejected, and had barely reached the locker-room when he was joined there by Bynum.

With 8:39 left, the diminutive Barea had driven straight down the lane, taken flight just past the free-throw line and was soaring toward the basket when Bynum delivered a hard forearm to his chest.

Barea landed in a motionless heap on the floor and remained that way for half a minute.

Bynum didn’t even wait for a referee’s assessment of his deed. He immediately whipped off his jersey and marched straight to the locker-room. As he passed by the Lakers’ bench he was joined by Artest, who escorted him the rest of the way, presumably to protect Bynum from retaliation from any outraged Dallas fans, but more likely to protect the Dallas fans from Bynum.

Either way, Ron Artest serving as the voice of reason was like having Charlie Sheen as your designated driver.

The wonder is that neither Mavericks player, particularly Barea, was seriously injured. I know that from personal experience. In my high school days an opponent did nearly the same thing to me, except that instead of getting me in the chest with a forearm he got me at knee-level with his upper body. I flipped a full 180 degrees and landed on the point of my left shoulder, fracturing my scapula.

For six weeks I recuperated in a half-body cast in which my left armpit was inaccessible to both soap and deodorant, producing an odour so offensive my best friends wouldn’t sit with me in the cafeteria, and stray dogs fled when they saw me coming.

You also have to wonder to what extent xenophobia may have been involved. The Mavs actually have five foreign-born players on their roster, so it didn’t exactly strain the law of averages that the recipients of the flagrant fouls were a German and a Puerto Rican.

On the other hand, if he just wanted to hit a European who was hurting the Lakers, Bynum might have been better-served if he’d just smacked Gasol.

The NBA has already taken action on Bynum, who was fined $25,000 (for stripping off his jersey while still on the court) and suspended for the first five games of next season – when, one suspects, he will be drawing his pay cheque from a team other than the Lakers anyway. (The other shoe has yet to drop on Odom.)

If there had been any lingering doubt about Jackson’s plans, the Game Four meltdown clearly ended them. He had hoped to cap off his career with a third “three-peat”, but will have to settle for 11 championships in a 20-year career. Six of his players – fully half the Lakers’ roster – this year had 11 or more seasons’ experience, and nobody had to tell him that if he couldn’t win with this bunch, he certainly wasn’t going to win with the same dramatis personae when they’ll be a year older.

By the time he reached the locker-room, in fact, Jackson looked like a man who’d had a huge burden lifted from his shoulders. It had been a frustrating season, he admitted.

“There was a strain on our basketball club from all angles – personalities, spiritually, emotionally,” he said. “It was a challenge bigger than we could beat.”