Formerly Phony Phil

Everything changed for me in 2003 – late 2003, or perhaps it was 2004. It took a while for the news to come out.

     I had always thought of Phil Mickelson as something of a flashy phony. The turned-up collar. The "aw, shucks" grin and demeanor. I had read once that he put off turning pro for a year because he (and presumably his "people") had calculated he could make more endorsement money by building his amateur stats for another year. Staying in the spotlight for another season as a top amateur (he's the 1990 U.S. Amateur champion, a three-time NCAA champ, and won the 1991 Northern Telecom Open in Tucson while still at Arizona State) was viewed as a good investment. To me, this moved seemed cynical. It also signaled he must be a spoiled brat to be able afford to do it. (Image: David Cannon/Getty Images via golf.com)

     As a pro, he won plenty of tournaments, but couldn't get over the hump with a major victory. Another reason to think he wasn't all he was cracked up to be. He was becoming rich and famous without becoming great.

     In 2003 he hit the skids. Didn't a win a single tournament, let alone a major, and dropped to 38th in the world, after three years entrenched solidly at #2, behind Tiger. I figured maybe he was done.

     And then I found out that in March of 2003, Phil's wife, Amy, had come very close to dying during the birth of their son, Evan (who also nearly died).

     But what really got to me was ... he didn't tell anybody. At least not publicly. I really don't know why. Maybe he didn't want his family's personal trauma to become an excuse for his poor play. Maybe he felt it was nobody's business. Or maybe, he just couldn't, because the wound was too fresh and too deep. Whatever his reasons were, learning this put Phil, his young family, and his golf career in a very different light.

     By then I had become a husband and father myself, so I was able to imagine more keenly what a scare that must have been, and how the shock waves could have traveled all the way to the golf course. It seemed surprising to learn he was so devoted to his family, but maybe I just hadn't been paying close enough attention. After all, this was the same Phil who carried a beeper during the 1999 U.S. Open and swore he would walk off the course if he received word that Amy had gone into labor – even though he was in contention until Payne Stewart sank his now-famous putt on the 72nd green.

     And now an exciting an emotional Masters win, his third, with Amy in the gallery at the 18th green for the first time since last May, when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer. Her treatment is going well and the prognosis is good, but the ordeal has taken a lot out of her. For Phil to win a major under the circumstances is golf's biggest feel-good story in quite a while. (Image: Harry How/Getty Images, via orlandosentinel.com)

Poor Tiger. From his perspective, things couldn't have turned out much worse. To have his arch-rival win while providing such a stark contrast to his own situation has got to be a little hard to stomach. And he didn't help himself by being so curt in his post-round interviews. He had a golden opportunity to back up his promise of "change" by showing he knows how to be a gracious loser. But he apparently does not.
     The whole thing seems to cement the storyline: Phil, good; Tiger, bad. But let's cut Tiger a little slack. He stepped into a pressure cooker, played incredibly well under the circumstances, and showed signs (such as signing some autographs for the first time in practically forever) that he's working becoming a better man. He showed he still has a long way to go, but it would be unrealistic to expect him to transform overnight.
     It's also important to remember, I think, that only God knows what is truly in each man's heart. Would it be any more shocking to find out Phil is not everything we thought he was than it was to learn that about Tiger? History is littered with fallen heroes, and no man is immune from a potential fall from grace.

     My greater concern with Tiger right now is that I can't shake this image of Elin back home, or somewhere in Sweden, shuffling a stack of divorce papers in a rage that Tiger announced his return to golf only weeks after giving the world the impression he may not come back for quite a while. But he said (again) after the Masters that he doesn't know when he'll play again, but will be taking some time to "kind of re-evaluate things."
     And it bothers me that announcers and analysts so often seem to weigh his decision to return simply in golfing terms. As Tiger was wrapping up his Sunday round, Jim Nantz of CBS said, "All in all, Tiger has to leave here thinking that, in many ways, if he had to pick a place, Nick [Faldo], to make the return, it proved to be the right decision to come to Augusta." After the tournament, Frank Nobilo said on the Golf Channel, "I do hope Tiger Woods sees that it's in his best interests to keep playing golf." I wonder if Elin concurs. We'll find out eventually, I suppose.

     Maybe Tiger just needed to do this, to play the Masters, to stick his toe back into the swirling waters for his mental health. Or as a reward to himself for working so hard at his (couples?) therapy. We really don't know -- and maybe Tiger doesn't know either. He has filed an entry for the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, but he has made no commitments thus far to play in any other tournaments. Maybe he'll pull a Ben Hogan and compete almost exclusively at majors this year.

Is Phil a "phony"? Was he ever? Apparently some people still think so, but God only knows. From where I sit, from my firmly earthly perspective, it seems clear that he loves his wife and kids; that he enjoys being out on the course; that he spends more time with the fans, who love him, than any big-name star golfer since Arnold Palmer; and that he's great for the game.
     So at least for now, I'm more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.