Dallas ? Fair Jordan. Yep, it has come to that.

The greatest player to ever bounce a basketball took one last bow Monday night at American Airlines Center. But somehow it seemed hollow.

Like Tony Dorsett playing for Denver, Ivan Rodriguez in Japan and Anna Nicole in tights, Michael Jordan in a Washington uniform is ugly, and sad.

Evidenced by scalpers asking $650 per ticket and Emmitt Smith’s presence, Jordan hasn’t lost his drawing power. But you got the feeling that the pregame standing ovation from the sellout of 20,119 was more appreciation and pity than anticipation.

Fans were indeed buzzing, but more about Bill Parcells’ initial visit than Jordan’s last one.

Evidenced by his thoroughly mediocre performance, Jordan has lost a step — or three. As advertised, his game stayed on the floor and his impact stayed minimal.

He finished with 13 points, seven rebounds and eight assists, but failed to score in the fourth quarter of a Mavericks’ 92-86 win that was begging for the best clutch player in the history of team sports to rescue his team.

Said Wizards coach Doug Collins, “Michael played fine.”

Fine? The man who willed the Chicago Bulls into the greatest sports dynasties during the 1990s with late-game heroics is now disappearing during late-game collapses by the 12-15 Wizards. Sad.

“(The fans) may not have seen the same player I once was, but I hope they appreciate that I’m a 40-year-old coming out here and helping my team by doing all the little things,” said Jordan. “A big part of my role at this point is educating these guys on how to win.”

As in his previous 12 trips to Dallas, Jordan again failed to produce a defining moment. No gravity-defying game-winning fadeaway. No poster dunk. Not even a tongue-wagging tale to tell your grandkids.

In fact, Jordan’s most memorable play was a second-quarter air ball. He missed a jumper that would’ve given Washington the lead and momentum heading into the fourth, and down the stretch he produced a traveling turnover on his once fabled up-and-under move and another rimmed jumper with his team trailing 84-79 with 2:26 left.

Jordan is indeed a skeleton of his former self, dominating less and losing more than the superstar who went 9-4 and averaged 27 points per game in Dallas. He rarely dunks anymore, or even drives for that matter. He no longer commands the ball, or a double-team. His game, gulp, is now all about playing Robin to Jerry Stackhouse’s Batman.

But it’s not like we should be surprised witnessing this deflated Air. It’s not often you get the last laugh on a legend, but we all owe Jordan a big, juicy “toldja so.”

Jordan should have retired in June 1998 after hitting the championship-clinching jumper for the Bulls against the Jazz. He paused, he posed, he pondered. It was the perfect exit for the game’s greatest player.

We knew it then. And, sadly, he knows it now.

On Thanksgiving, when he figured we’d all be too busy or too bloated to care, Jordan admitted his mistake by announcing a third retirement. Unfortunately, as we predicted, Jordan is departing with a limping legacy. Because of mounting losses on court and in court, his biography has been downgraded from a “SportsCentury” to a “Behind the Music.”

It’s his pedestrian play that is prompting a generation of younger fans to embrace LeBron James as the next … Kobe Bryant. No? Then, quick, name Jordan’s three best moments in a Wizards uniform. While you’re scratching your skull in vain, remember the missed dunk in last year’s All-Star Game? How about earlier this month when he exploded for a career-low two points? Or the fact that Jordan is on pace to average about 16 a game.

Jordan, who will turn 40 in February, has finally found the one man who can humble him — Father Time.