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Green coat can do wonders for one's reputation

By GARY SHELTON
Published April 7, 2005

AUGUSTA, Ga. - One putt, and the guy looks dashing.

One birdie, and Phil Mickelson stands a little taller, a little straighter. His profile looks sharper. His shadow casts longer.

One victory, and the world changes. Especially for Mickelson, the guy sitting on top of it.

He has been in town since Tuesday, and so far, no one has suggested that his collar is too tight. For Mickelson, that's a new experience.

No one has asked about what he needs or what he lacks, about tournaments that ended badly or a career that seemed to stop a floor short of the roof. No one has offered to share his pain. These days, there is plenty of pleasure to go around.

One stroke, and all Mickelson gagged was his critics. All of the disappointments, all of the failures, were just stumbles on the way to success.

One comeback, and the questions about his heart, his hunger, his control all disappeared. Presumably, they are somewhere in the pockets of a green jacket.

One Masters, and just like that, the question changes to this: Can Mickelson win another one?

No one asks champions about failures. In the face of victory, no one asks about lost afternoons. Oh, Mickelson was asked about his gambling. (No comment.) He was asked about his strategy. (Attack.) He was asked about Tiger. (Hey, they're buds, okay?)

Amazing, isn't it, the distance between reputations? This time a year ago, Mickelson was the poster boy for underachievement in sports. There was nothing too cold, nothing too cruel, when it came to describing what was missing from Mickelson. He was the man who didn't win enough, and it didn't seem to bother him enough. When it counted the most, Mickelson could be counted on the least.

That changed a year ago, when a grand charge on the back nine won a Masters and reinvented a golfer. That round was everything that Mickelson's career had lacked. He was controlled, efficient, opportunistic. He birdied five of his last seven holes, including a clutch 18-footer on the final hole. It was the portrait of a man taking an eraser and wiping away every disappointment a stroke at a time.

These days, Mickelson seems loose, comfortable about his place in his sport. Who wouldn't? He has won three times this season already, and he has finished in the top 10 five of his eight starts. Now that he doesn't have the albatross around his neck, he seems to be moving quickly around the course.

Funny, isn't it, the difference between winning and losing? If Mickelson had three-putted the 18th last year, he would enter this week with a 0-for-50 record in the majors. Instead, he's 1-49, and no one is talking about the 49 that got away.

"One perk is I haven't heard the question: Who is the best player in the world never to win a Masters?" Mickelson said, laughing.

The lesson of Mickelson, like the lesson of Roy Williams earlier in the week, like that of Don Shula and Bobby Bowden and Dan Jansen and a lot of people accused of winning only the small ones, is that convenient labels usually aren't accurate. Did Mickelson need to change some of his approaches when victory was within grasp? Yes. But was he ever a failure doomed to repeat his collapses? Of course not.

Success forgives that. These days, when Mickelson remembers the past, it doesn't gnaw at him. Earlier in the week, he sat with caddie Bones MacKay and reminisced about the final nine of last year's Masters. About the shots. About the feeling of walking up the 17th when the crowd formed a little corridor around him. About the deafening noise.

For Mickelson, that sound has always been there. The blessing of this sport is that fans seem to have more of an appreciation for the struggles of professionals than in other sports. Even as Mickelson stumbled, the great deal of fans seemed to share his pain. Perhaps it is easier for most of us to relate to a man trying to measure up than, say, Tiger Woods when he was dominating the game.

If Mickelson's victory meant a lot to the fans, it should be said it also meant a lot to the sport.

It was not long ago, remember, when Tiger's rule of the game was unchallenged, when the rest of the field seemed unable, unwilling, to try to stop him. No one minded Woods' greatness; they minded the inability of the field to test it. Mickelson, with his dazzling array of shots, was the biggest disappointment.

One putt, one victory, one major and everything changes. These days, no one chuckles when you suggest that Mickelson could win this tournament again. No one laughs when you say that if he doesn't, Ernie Els or Vijay Singh or Retief Goosen or, yes, Woods, could. Squint, and you can picture a Sunday when all of them are in the hunt.

As for Mickelson? There are still levels to achieve. He has never won the money title. He has never been player of the year.

Oh, yes. He has never defended his championship in a major, either.

[Last modified April 7, 2005, 01:24:08]