"It's over.

The tears. The jogging out to midcourt at the Wachovia Center to kiss the floor to raucous, rabid applause. The crackling voice, filled with gratitude and appreciation for an organization that said, "You can come home again." It all ended for Allen Iverson yesterday afternoon when the 76ers announced that, arguably, the greatest player in franchise history would be out "indefinitely" because of his daughter's illness - undoubtedly ending The Answer's career in Philadelphia.

It wasn't supposed to end this way, of course. Not in Philadelphia. Not for Iverson, and not in the way he is departing. We can listen to Ed Stefanski, the Sixers' president and general manager, tell us that Iverson's departure is in the best interest of the team to allow him time to "deal with his family with this very serious issue." But a cricket fan from England wouldn't have a hard time deciphering what's going on here.

Iverson isn't what he use to be.

Iverson wasn't what he was supposed to be, either.

Because of injury, fatigue, his miniature size and the reckless abandonment of his body, the Iverson who spent a decade mesmerizing the basketball world is a mere shell of himself.

The Iverson we once knew is no more.

The Sixers know it, but they have too much class to say it. His teammates and coaches know it, too, but they care too much about him to say it. The fans aren't blind, either, but their love for him makes it seem that way. And, if I'm being totally honest, this column is being written with a heavy heart. No joy comes from pressing letters on a keyboard about a player who deserves unlimited praise for all the great moments he's given this city.

Except we can't ignore that the same diminutive scoring machine who has averaged 26.7 points per game in his career has averaged just 13.9 in 25 games for the Sixers. The proverbial wool can't cover our eyes from a bevy of other deficiencies too piercing to mention at this sensitive moment in Iverson's life.

Iverson's diminished quickness tells a story, along with his inability to get his shot off the way he once did. That, combined with his inability to move without the ball as adroitly, transformed him from a possible asset into a liability.

And dare we ask how long are the Sixers supposed to sacrifice the development of Willie Green and Jrue Holiday?

During all-star weekend, Denver Nuggets coach George Karl said, "There's no doubt he can help an abundance of teams in this league. I've coached him for a couple of years and I watch him. But I do also know he's not the same player. It's just more important that he knows that."

Add to that Eddie Jordan's recent proclamation that "Allen helps us in an abundance of ways that have little to do with scoring. He's a contributor. An asset."

So Iverson can still play in this league. If healthy, he can be another team's version of Detroit Pistons sharpshooter Ben Gordon. All he needs to do is humble himself to focus on what he can still be (a scorer) and forget about what he can never be again (a superstar). "There's a place for him in this league," Karl insisted.

Just not in Philadelphia.

Not with the greyhounds Stefanski has put on this roster, combined with a Princeton offense that is suited for none of them. He doesn't fit here because this squad is too young to go anywhere, because Iverson is old enough to think he should have gone somewhere by now."