As popular as Phil Mickelson was at the height of his career, dripping Elvis-like charisma while dropping $100 bills into kids’ lemonade stands, there was a subset of people who believed they could see beyond the smile.
Mickelson would sign autographs for almost an hour and later push a tournament director to put up a privacy fence so he could avoid those same fans the next day should he so desire.
The skeptics doubted his genuineness and questioned his motivation even as the cheers for him squealed around them.
As is often the case, two things can be true.
Mickelson has been sprinkled with stardust, both as a golfer and as a personality. Tiger Woods has always been an outlier, a true prodigy who redefined how golf can be played and he did it with a cold, ruthless, singular passion that both drove him and sometimes betrayed him.
Phil – he became a one-name star – had the warmth Tiger hid and it could burn like a bonfire. He smiled. He made eye contact. He flashed the thumbs-up gesture to thousands.
His generosity is real. His charm undeniable. His legacy now challenged.
What ultimately defined Mickelson beyond the golf he played is the same thing that can define each of us – his flaws.
He played fearless golf, hitting the hero shot, tempting fate. All he lacked was Superman’s cape.
When he won, he won spectacularly. The 2004 Masters. Shooting 66 on Sunday at Muirfield to win the 2013 Open Championship. The 2021 PGA Championship at Kiawah Island where, standing on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, he somehow found himself on top of the world at age 50.
When he failed, he failed spectacularly. The double bogey on the 72nd hole at Winged Foot to lose the 2006 U.S. Open. The calamity with Tiger at the 2004 Ryder Cup at Oakland Hills. Countless opportunities squandered by choosing to play golf recklessly.
Our idols can’t be perfect. But it’s not too much to ask that they be honorable. That applies to all of us and to them in particular because we invest more than we should in who we believe them to be and what we wish for them to do.
It’s a built-in burden of fame.
The whispers about his lifestyle have been out there for months, even years, and credit goes to those who brought the details to light.
Mickelson has lived large. Where others see edges, he sees horizons. He may not always be right but Mickelson is rarely in doubt. At times, he has come across like golf’s version of the wolf of Wall Street, even drawing the attention of federal investigators.
We have admired his moxie and appreciated his imagination while at the same time had that itching feeling that things that seem too good to be true often are.
There are levels of sadness with Mickelson’s story, assuming most if not all of what’s been reported about his personal conduct is on target. The whispers about his lifestyle have been out there for months, even years, and credit goes to those who brought the details to light.
He has publicly acknowledged some mistakes and, through statements from his lawyer and spokesperson, suggested recent accusations are not accurate.
This reaches far beyond Mickelson’s 45 PGA Tour victories, including six major championships. He is among the dozen or so greatest players ever and his achievements speak for themselves.
But all of that comes with an addendum now, a scarlet letter that replaces the logo silhouette he wore of himself celebrating his first Masters victory.
This is about what has been lost, not won.
Mickelson’s doubters are already saying I told you so, but that’s not the point.
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If his outspoken and condescending sermons about why LIV Golf is superior to the PGA Tour where he built his legend weren’t enough to get him excommunicated, these revelations will likely do it.
Don’t expect to see Mickelson as an honorary starter at the Masters down the road. He lost a potential TV gig. The elder statesman role doesn’t fit now.
Mickelson’s doubters are already saying I told you so. That’s beside the point. There is no joy in this.
There are victims in this story. Employees. Acquaintances. Business partners.
His family.
Mickelson himself.
Call it what you will – hubris, entitlement, arrogance – but the bottom line doesn’t change. The damage has been done.
There are no takebacks. There are no do-overs. There is no making it right.
Hopefully, there is regret, recognition and resolve to be better.
And, there is much we don’t know, much we probably can’t understand and likely much we will never know.
There are, by multiple accounts, family health issues that are getting Mickelson’s attention, and the family deserves privacy as they work through them.
None of these things can be wished away and they won’t be forgotten. Hopefully, though, Mickelson will find the moment to explain himself, to take accountability, to become an aspirational example rather than a disappointing punch line.
Woods is a hobbled reminder that people can give grace even when they have been disappointed. It was demonstrated again recently when Woods, in his role as chairman of the PGA Tour’s Future Competition Committee, introduced CEO and future commissioner Brian Rolapp, standing alongside him on stage.
It’s unclear where Mickelson finds himself on the path toward whatever comes next. It’s conceivable he’s crossed a line from which there is no return.
That’s a sad place to be.
Top: Has Phil Mickelson crossed a line from which there is no return?
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