THUMBS DOWN: MICKELSON BLOWS UP HIS ROMANCE WITH THE WORLD
After decades of unconditional reverence from galleries everywhere, his approval rating finally crashed when he embraced a Saudi-backed golf league and showed little concern about human rights abuses
He could gamble with mob figures. He could scam a stock trade and return almost $1 million to the government. He could carry on a feud with Tiger Woods, the only retort for a lopsided rivalry. He could protest out loud about the high taxes in California. No matter what Phil Mickelson did wrong on the slippery side of his charmed life, all he had to do was smile, wave, flip a thumbs-up gesture.
And the galleries would adore him unconditionally, across the planet, embracing him because he was one of them, because he was soft in the gut and reckless and fallible on the course, and because, when you think about it, he was the relatable antithesis of Tiger. His people always would leap with him on the 72nd green, never forgetting his joy and relief when he finally won his first major at Augusta National.
Only an egregious, senseless act would threaten Mickelson’s approval rating as an uber-popular sportsman. Only he could take a hatchet to a love affair that intensified as his wife battled breast cancer, around the time Woods was banging bimbos and destroying his image. Only Phil could sabotage the Phil-harmonic Orchestra.
That he did so this week with a shocking free-fall — with one greedy business stance and an unforgivable comment — suggests how flimsy and phony it all was. Turns out Mickelson Mania was just another creation by a con man who had a hypnotic effect on otherwise smart human beings. In that context, he always was a golfing evangelist, a fraud doomed to be caught and exposed at some point after decades on the lam.
His downfall, as usual, was about money and a gamble. This time, he was betting on the promise of a proposed rival league, backed by Saudi Arabian money, designed to challenge a PGA Tour that only has made him famous and wealthy beyond belief. Anyone who knows the real Mickelson wasn’t surprised by the audacity of his stance, but did he actually not care that the financial interests behind the “Super Golf League’’ — namely, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman — also were clouded by allegations of human rights violations? The relationship should have given him pause. Instead, the suspect connection made Mickelson bolder, even if it meant disregarding the murder of Washington Post columnist Jamal Khashoggi.
“They’re scary motherf—ers to get involved with,” he told author Alan Shipnuck, who included the comments in an unauthorized, soon-to-be-published biography about Mickelson. “We know they killed Khashoggi and have a horrible record on human rights. They execute people over there for being gay. Knowing all of this, why would I even consider it? Because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reshape how the PGA Tour operates. They’ve been able to get by with manipulative, coercive, strong-arm tactics because we, the players, had no recourse. As nice a guy as (PGA Tour commissioner Jay Monahan) comes across as, unless you have leverage, he won’t do what’s right. And the Saudi money has finally given us that leverage.
“I’m not even sure I want it to succeed,’’ he concluded, “but just the idea of it is allowing us to get things done with the tour.”
Just like that, not unlike one of his errant swings with a major on the line, Mickelson blew up his romance with millions. In the golf community, he angered everyone in his wake. He enraged fellow pros, none of whom want anything to do with the Saudi league. He incensed sponsors who’ve stood behind him through his various kerfuffles. He vexed Greg Norman, who is heavily involved with the upstart venture and thought he had Mickelson’s support. And the Saudis? Phil might want to hire a good security team.
What the hell was he thinking? What happened to Mickelson’s psyche only nine months after he won the PGA Championship at Kiawah Island, becoming the oldest player to win a major? An unlikely old soul, he gave us a monumental moment for golf, sport and life itself. Had he one-upped even Tom Brady as a new-age guru, in his mastery of body and mind?
Our reverence has evaporated. “Naive, selfish, egotistical, ignorant,’’ said Rory McIlroy, speaking for all the top players. As Mickelson’s ugly words were circulating, the likes of Dustin Johnson, Brooks Koepka and Bryson DeChambeau were officially disassociating themselves from the so-called SGL, joining Jon Rahm, Justin Thomas, Jordan Spieth, McIlroy — the rest of the Tour, really — in divorcing Mickelson. Koepka, in particular, took exception to these anti-PGA Tour remarks from Mickelson: “For me personally, it’s not enough that they are sitting on hundreds of millions of digital moments. They also have access to my shots, access I do not have. They also charge companies to use shots I have hit. And when I did ‘The Match’ (exhibitions) — there have been five of them — the Tour forced me to pay them $1 million each time. For my own media rights. That type of greed is, to me, beyond obnoxious.”
“(Don’t know) if I’d be using the word greedy if I’m Phil,’’ Koepka said.
So, how stunning to see Mickelson shaken and contrite, talking about mental health issues and a respite from competitive golf. At 50, he was on top of the world. At 51, he could fade away in disgrace.
“Although it doesn't look this way now given my recent comments, my actions throughout this process have always been with the best interests of golf, my peers, sponsors and fans," Mickelson wrote in a statement. “There is the problem of off-the-record comments being shared out of context and without my consent, but the bigger issue is that I used words that do not reflect my true feelings or intentions. It was reckless, I offended people, and I am deeply sorry for my choice of words. I'm beyond disappointed and will make every effort to self-reflect and learn from this.
“The past 10 years I have felt the pressure and stress slowly affecting me at a deeper level. I know I have not been my best and desperately need some time away to prioritize the ones I love most and work on being the man I want to be."
If some of his words seemed disingenuous — the respected Shipnuck said Mickelson never indicated his comments were off the record — the public’s absence of trust is something he’ll have to live with now. Was he again thinking only about money, trying to salvage relationships with sponsors such as Callaway and Amstel Light after KMPG severed its longtime endorsement deal? Unlike other prominent athletes who’ve cited mental health issues in taking time off from careers — Simone Biles, Naomi Osaka, Ben Simmons — Mickelson is an aging white billionaire who has been in the public eye since the early ‘90s.
No one has sympathy for him.
Pity, maybe.
But plenty of disgust.
“I don't want to kick someone while he's down obviously,’’ said McIlroy, “but … just very surprising and disappointing. Sad. I'm sure he's sitting at home sort of rethinking his position and where he goes from here."
Augusta would be the next major, the scene of his biggest roars and conquests. But the bigger question is how Mickelson, entering his career afterlife, has wrecked his chances to be a Ryder Cup captain, starting in 2025 at Bethpage Black.
I should have known a career crash was coming. Last summer, when he was playing at a tournament in Michigan, the Detroit News reported a fascinating story about Mickelson’s gambling wager with a mob-connected figure, ‘‘Dandy’’ Don DeSeranno, who once stiffed the golf legend out of a $500,000 payoff. Mickelson thought the story was ``very opportunistic and selfish.’’ I thought he was whining and not owning up to his past.
And I wrote on a media site, Barrett Sports Media: ‘‘Only weeks after teaching life lessons as the oldest player to win a golf major, Lefty went daffy. Yes, with Mickelson in town for a tournament, the Detroit News had every right to apprise its audience of a local story involving the gambling man. … Rather than acknowledge a true story and move on, Mickelson blasted the newspaper, badgered News reporter Robert Snell on Twitter and threatened to never return to Detroit. What Mickelson missed, in dismissing it as old news, is that the court transcript didn’t appear until 2018. Here’s some advice for Phil, at age 51: Stop dealing with organized crime figures.’’
This prompted Mickelson, who should have been loving life on a beach somewhere, to fire back on social media. ‘‘When Jay was in Chicago he was the absolute worst,’’ he wrote. ‘‘He would pick a player and each day of the week would roast him. Many too players just stopped coming to the event and now Chicago doesn’t have a regular Tour event.’’ (Allow me to edit his tweet: Too many players, Phil, not ‘‘Many too.’’)
Gee, I had no idea I carried such power as a Chicago golfing overlord. But blaming me for the city’s lack of a regular PGA Tour event — when I haven’t written columns there since August 2008 — isn’t why Mickelson responded. He wanted to create a Twitter mob against me, as he did in Detroit against the News reporter, and I didn’t bother to look if he succeeded. I headed to a matinee baseball game in Anaheim, where I watched Shohei Ohtani, a joyful sportsman.
The act of making history should have been a testament to his mind, his skill, his longevity, his perseverance, his commitment to fitness, the extension of a career prime beyond that of Woods and all others. Instead, winning at Kiawah unleashed a monster, a megalomaniac craving power and ignorant of the most heinous human crimes.
Go away, Phil. You can try flashing another thumbs-up sign.
The world is responding with a consensus thumbs-down.
###
Jay Mariotti, called “the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.