Sports

NUGGETS’ DISAPPEARING ACT AS OFFENSIVE AS OFFICIATING

SURE, there was odious officiat ing in Game 5 at the Office Supply Center. These are Bernie Fryer’s NBA playoffs, are they not?

And Nene’s sixth foul was as flagrantly flawed (Pau Gasol straight armed him and he had position) as the one that sent LeBron James to the line for the tying free throws in Game 4 after he had mowed down Mickael Pietrus . . . or the one that sent Dwight Howard to bed without his supper in Game 1 of the Eastern bloc finals . . . or his sixth earlier this week when he cleanly blocked LeBron’s fast break 3-pointer from behind . . . or . . . aw, never mind.

Still, just like Manny being Mammy, it was the Nuggets being the Nuggets when the game was on the line:

Minimal ball movement, too much passive-resistance on defense and stupid shot selection — including one deep dunce of an upchuck from Chauncey Billups of all people — as well as a couple of point-blank misses by Kenyon Martin, who had already hit his nightly quota of two jumpers, all put the visitors in an un-exhumable hole.

Yeah, the Lakers might have tightened the screws a bit, but the coroner’s report affirmed the majority of Nuggets’ wounds to be self-inflicted. Meaning they have their rumps to the Rockies tonight.

George Karl’s go-away line after Wednesday’s Game 5 was, “I like my team.”

He and his players are convinced the Nuggets will turn it around and send the series back to L.A. for Game 7. And, really, would they lie? It’s written all over their bodies.

Attempting to justify his role as a Bruce Lee, er, Bowen clone, Dahntay Jones is demonstrating to Karl that he is prepared to do whatever it takes to stay a starter. As best I can tell, Mr. Donuts is not giving the impression he’s unhappy with his labor.

Bowen’s blueprint look-a-way trip has fathered at least two copycat culprits in the after-party. Whereas Rajon Rondo has it perfected (refs and the league office believe it’s unintentional), Jones still needs some practice.

His trip-flare on Kobe fooled the refs — or they blinked collectively — but VP of Violence Stu Jackson — habitually downing the “day after pill” that aborts blown officials’ calls or non-calls — issued a “daunting” retroactive flagrant penalty one.

Considering how conspicuous and cheap Jones’ lowdown play was, and in view of his previous game’s two-handed shove-from-behind as Kobe was arching in mid-air for a layup, he should’ve received a one-game suspension.

Both incidents would’ve automatically turned into fights in pickup games. The fact they were perpetrated by a scrub on a superstar creates an atmosphere all the more provocative for payback.

While on the subject, would David Stern please explain the virtue of suspending a player after he accumulates “seven points” from technical fouls? Forget about how they arrived at this magic number, doesn’t the commissioner realize his system penalizes players/teams that advance? If you are going to have this ridiculous system, doesn’t it make sense to reset the bar at a higher number after every series? Imagine the NFL sitting down a defensive lineman in the Super Bowl because he had one too many roughing the passer penalties?

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Knicks original Nat Militzok, 86, died May 14 in Las Vegas after a long illness; he and his wife, Eileen, had just celebrated their 58th wedding anniversary.

Hank Rosenstein and Ozzie Schectman, who scored the NBA’s first basket against Toronto on a feed from Militzok, are the 1946-47 team’s lone survivors.

After one season (57 games; 4.3 point average), Nat became a lawyer and represented Lou Carnesseca (when he became Nets coach) and Columbia’s Dave Newmark, who, sad to convey, has acute problems. A protégé of all-time favorite of mine Red Sarachek, Militzok was inducted into the New York Jewish Basketball Hall of Fame in ’98.

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“Refs are allowing King Jimmy to get away with crimes against humanity,” column contributor Len Gilman alleges. “If they added up the extra steps he takes, it would go from the 92 St. ‘Y’ to the Lost Battalion Hall in Queens.”

peter.vecsey@nypost.com