Ever the bridesmaid, Phil Mickelson finally caught his own bouquet of azaleas Sunday afternoon at the Masters while Arnold Palmer’s Golden Anniversary slipped tearfully by.
Whether being trampled in the tracks of Tiger Woods at Bethpage Black, or belittled by fate when taking on a predestined Payne Stewart at Pinehurst, Mickelson had recorded 17 previous top-10 finishes in major championships and finished in the top three in the Masters in each of the past three years. Long a darling of middling club golfers who always feel they play short of their talent, Mickelson was not a surprise winner this week.
The last man to win on tour as an amateur, doing so at the Tuscon Open in 1996, Mickelson cut up record books as a junior and college golfer, winning three NCAA championships at Arizona State and a 1990 U.S. Amateur title.
He had amassed 22 PGA Tour victories entering Master’s week, the third most of any man without a major title to his credit. With Tiger Woods fighting a heretofore unexplained combination of distractions including injury, illness, faulty swing path and his recent betrothal to a Swedish swimsuit model, many a pundit tabbed Mickelson as the favorite this week, and he did not disappoint.
But this was not the Phil Mickelson of Arizona State: slim, cocky and charging. Long known as a magician around the greens who had a penchant for playing wildly, even recklessly at times, this week an eerily confident Mickelson nestled tight fade around Augusta’s velveteen fairways, hanging back on his driver at key par fives and securing several clutch up and downs, such as Saturday at the 18th, employing two straightforward strokes of his putter rather than grand swoops with his lob wedge; a Mickelson trademark of old. His staid determination yielded the greatest result of his career.
To say Mickelson has some talent is similar to saying Arnold Palmer is generally well-liked.
Palmer played in his 50th consecutive and final Masters this year, ending a tradition that included four green jackets and incalculable impact on the popularity, marketability and profitability of golf as a whole.
Consistent with the poetic manner of Augusta, the King made his exit stage left after missing the cut Friday and turned his theater to a man once thought his stylistic heir apparent on the only stage that golf’s historians remember: that of major championships. Though both known as fearless hard chargers in their youth, Palmer translated that bravado into nine lifetime major titles and a plebian, swash-buckling style that seemed antithetical to golf’s country-club stuffiness. Mickelson’s, until Sunday, was a story of opportunities squandered by a graceful man of unspeakably patrician talent.
Mickelson broke many of his old stereotypes this weekend. Though often nothing less than political in his dealings with the press and public, Mickelson showed flashes of impromptu off the course this week that were missing from his game. When pressed at his Saturday press conference whether he was glad to be chasing his first green jacket with the likes of Chris DiMarco, Bernhard Langer and Paul Casey (not slouches, to be certain) nipping at his heels as opposed to the aforementioned Mr. Woods, Mickelson responded simply “well, it doesn’t suck, I’ll say that.” He wouldn’t expand on the comment, and he didn’t need to.
As events turned, he closed the week by fending off a charge by none other than Ernie Els, the most accomplished player in golf still in his prime other than Woods.
Els, who closed Sunday with a glittering 67 that included two eagles, played with enough gestalt to win the tournament. Grasping the lead on the back nine, Els struggled to find the spark in what evolved from a race to the bottom to an outright birdie fest. Critics of the lengthened Augusta National, who contended before the tournament that the new expansiveness of the back nine would preclude drastic shifts of fortune, were laid handily to rest. The 16th hole alone yielded two aces in a span of 10 minutes to Padraig Harrington and Kirk Triplett. K.J. Choi, still in contention until playing companion Els notched a par putt at the 18th hole to eliminate everyone but Mickelson, thrust himself near the lead with an eagle two on the par-four 11th hole.
But the greatest drama of the day was reserved for Mickelson, who after struggling to a first-nine 38 that included numerous missed putts, crafted a second-nine 31 with five birdies, including two of the final three holes.
With Els in the clubhouse at eight under par, Mickelson slammed home a 15-foot birdie at the par-three 16th and followed with a birdie at 18 that nearly slid on the low side but grasped desperately for the bottom of the cup, becoming only the fourth player to birdie the 18th and win.
Palmer was the first, in 1960. He sunk a putt to fend off a similar charge and trotted affably off the green with his trademark smile and thumbs up. Mickelson, too, spent much of the final round — even at its most intense moments — with a noticeably wide grin on his face. It spoke to his newfound confidence, even expectancy, as if to say he always knew he could do it and now was his time.
A man with a golf pedigree matched by few others, Mickelson once boasted that he had always expected to win majors, and win “a bunch of them.” With one down and a perennial invitation to Augusta, a course that suits his game and an immense talent, few are willing to speculate how many more he might have left in his bag. But four wins and 50-straight appearances are likely still reserved for the King.