As tough as Allen Iverson and Philly fans can be, they sure are hypersensitive to any slight, real or imagined. I didn't realize just how ultra-thin their respective skins were until after the L.A. Lakers successfully completed their title defense with a 108-96 win that clinched the best-of-seven series 4-1.

First there was the crowd reaction when Rick Fox threw a last-second lob for Shaq to dunk that counted as a three-pointer. Fox clearly didn't mean to shoot a 3, but his lob was so perfect that it ripped through the net without Shaq having to re-direct it. Lusty booing and a chant of "A--hole!" followed. The complaining didn't end with the final buzzer -- Sixers fans seemed determined not to let it go.

"Please write that Kobe has no class," said a Sixers fan trying to keep a full beer -- though clearly not his first -- from spilling as he swayed in place just beyond the press section near the court. "What he did there wasn't right."

I tried to convince him Fox threw the lob, not Kobe Bryant, but he frowned suspiciously, as if I were just trying to shirk my duties as grand arbiter of appropriate behavior in elimination games. I'd never considered that my job, but he seemed certain that it was. Who am I to argue?

So here it is: what Fox did wasn't all that egregious. With the 24-second shot clock and game clock about seven-tenths of a second apart, the game couldn't end without the Sixers taking possession of the ball again. The noblest move the Lakers could have made would have been to take a shot-clock violation and simply hand the ball over. But with the pending euphoria of their championship and the completion of an unprecedented 15-1 playoff run, I can understand why the Lakers might have wanted to put an exclamation point on the moment. It doesn't make it commendable, but it's understandable.

That, of course, is not why you didn't hear or see A.I. at the post-game podium. He actually came into the interview room, an entourage of relatives and Sixers PR personnel surrounding him in loose formation. The normal path for players approaching the podium is behind a blue curtain, but A.I. cut directly through the room of reporters when he saw Shaq stepping down from the podium. He was halfway there when Kobe, not seeing Iverson, stepped from behind the blue curtain and sat down behind the microphone.

It clearly hurt A.I. to play that last game knowing he had no chance to avert the Sixers' elimination, his frustration clear as he begged for calls and ranted at the refs from the very start. But it had to be just as painful to be bested one last time by Kobe, who clutched the coveted gold trophy while wearing big smile, a gaudy leather Back-to-Back jacket, and an NBA Champions hat cocked to one side.

"Forget this," Iverson said, in somewhat less pleasant terms, and the entourage abruptly turned around and headed back out the door.

I don't know that there was anything Iverson could have said that he didn't express on the court. I certainly didn't need to hear anything from him. He said it all by his actions -- fighting to the last, against all odds, trying to summon one more rally. But showing up to talk after every series the Sixers won and pulling a no-show after the one they didn't smacks of immaturity, plain and simple.

The Philly fans missed their chance to go out in grand fashion as well. They made such a bold and impressive statement about their loyalty to, and appreciation for, the Sixers with their fierce and unprompted "Let's Go, Sixers!" chant as the Lakers celebrated on the court. It was a classy touch. Had they left it at that, and had Iverson fulfilled his post-game responsibilities mandated by the league, all concerned could have walked away deserving as much adulation for their composure in defeat as they did for the effort it took to reach the Finals.

The post-game reaction mirrored the results -- an impressive run right up until, but not quite including, the end.

Ric Bucher is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at ric.bucher@espnmag.com.