Is Phil Jackson the greatest coach ever?

Or the luckiest?

That is the big question in sports these days, and by law every columnist must strive to answer it. So here goes.

You know how the argument goes when fans and media start the debate over the greatest coach ever and Jackson's name comes up. My grandma coulda coached the Bulls to a championship.

Even Isiah Thomas could've won a title with the Lakers' talent ...

Or Jackson's assistant, Jack Nicholson.

It's true that Phil Jackson has had the greatest coaching gig ever. First, he becomes head coach of the Chicago Bulls, then he meets Tex Winter, a real Xs and Os coach and creator of the triangle offense, and he adopts both of them. Then the greatest player in the universe falls in his lap, Michael Jordan, along with his sidekick, Scottie Pippen.

It's like being asked to make a movie with Hanks and Streep. Easy.

Jackson won six championships in nine seasons in Chicago. Nothing to it.

Next, he signs up for the Lakers' job and — poor Phil — all he has to work with are Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant and a few other gifted but underachieving sidekicks. He wins four more titles.

That's 10 world championships — a ring for every finger.

Jackson probably even did some coaching somewhere along the way, although that didn't appear to be the case in the recent NBA Finals. During a timeout, Bryant was doing most of the coaching, moving around the huddle talking to teammates, finger wagging, and, at one point, showing teammates a diagram of his strategy.

Hey, Phil, get me a Gatorade.

It appeared that Nicholson — Jackson's unofficial assistant, always visible on the coach's shoulder on national TV — was working the refs.

So if Bryant handles the strategy and Jack is working the referees, what is Jackson doing to earn his 10 mil a year?

It would be a stretch to call Jackson a great or even good floor coach, able to adapt on the fly; then again ...

... His teams know how to complete an inbounds pass, which is more than can be said for the Nuggets, who lost two games by throwing a critical last-second inbounds pass to the other team — the Lakers.

... His teams can do simple math. If they are ahead by three points with seconds left in the game, they know that the other team must shoot a three-point shot. Which is more than can be said for the Magic, who, ahead by three against the Lakers in Game 4, backed away as if defending for a drive to the basket.