The Sunday Times - UK (2022-05-22)

24 May 22, 2022The Sunday Times

Sport

if he belonged on the same golf

course as this boy wonder.

Playing at the 1991 Walker Cup in

Portmarnock, north of Dublin,

Mickelson was asked about a

wayward drive that ended up in the

rough. “You don’t want to end up

there, the Irish women are not that

attractive,” he said. That, as you can

guess, went down well with the

locals.

Shipnuck charts his subject’s

journey through golf with Mickelson-

like enthusiasm. To enjoy the ride,

you need to love the game because

there’s a lot of golf. He was the most

talented player of his generation but

not close to being the greatest. That

was Tiger Woods. Shipnuck quotes a

distinction made by Brandel

Chamblee, the former player who is

now a high-profile TV analyst.

“Phil wants to hit an amazing shot,

all Tiger wants to do is hit the right

shot. Phil is a gambler. Tiger is the

house, and he knows the house

always wins. Phil thinks he knows

more than the house.”

Reading the book there are times

when Mickelson’s generosity and

sense of fun makes you want to like

him. Other times when his lack of

humility and smart-alec nature are

hard to stomach. The clincher for this

reader came in the detail of his break-

up with longtime caddie Jim “Bones”

Mackay.

At the time Mickelson said, “Amy

and I, and our children, will always

think of Bones, [his wife] Jen, [their

children] Oliver and Emma as family.

We are looking forward to sharing life

and friendship with them for ever.”

According to Shipnuck, Mackay

wanted people to know their

relationship fractured over money:

Mickelson owed his caddie $900,000

(£720,000) which he was slow to pay.

Eventually he coughed up two

payments of $400,000 but their

relationship had been terminally

damaged.

How could a man who between

endorsements and prize money

earned an estimated $900 million

not treat his caddie properly?

Running through the book is the

story of Mickelson’s love of gambling

and his passion for big bets. Shipnuck

says he was told by a source with

access to documents that Mickelson

lost $40 million gambling from 2010

to 2014.

So he shortchanges his caddie,

sells the Gulfstream, needs to talk to

the Saudis. And all of this because he

had a gambling issue that cost him a

fortune. Can we be sure? “Nobody

knows Phil Mickelson. Nobody. I

spent 25 years standing next to the

guy and he’s still a total mystery to

me,” says “Bones” Mackay.

Now if ever there was an honest

autobiography, I would certainly buy

that.

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The LIV Golf League

fronted by Greg Norman

is the same as his career

— a lot of money earned

for a player who only

ever really led for 54

holes. He was never that

great over 72.

Ross Freedman, London

I read David Walsh [on

sportswashing] on the

back page last week

before I read his piece on

Greg Norman. I still can’t

get my head around the

fact that the same

person wrote these two

articles.

Simon Plunkett, Dublin

David Walsh should not

be surprised that Lionel

Messi, David Beckham

and their ilk sell

themselves to obnoxious

regimes. In the same

way that if a politician’s

lips are moving, they are

lying, if a footballer is

holding a shirt and

smiling, they are

receiving some hideous

amount of money to add

to the obscene sum they

have already “earned”!

Les Driver, Cornwall

Graeme Souness states

that ‘it’s ten years since

Rangers were liquidated;

the treatment they

received within Scottish

Football, being demoted

to the bottom division as

punishment, was only to

be expected because of

the parochial attitude’.

Rangers were effectively

a new club without a

licence to play and had

to apply for membership

of the Scottish League.

James Hone, Glasgow

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

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The Sports Editor,

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London, SE1 9GF

email: sportletters

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‘People were

appalled he could be

flippant about

human rights abuses

in Saudi Arabia’

F

or those who fall from grace

I’m guessing one of the

toughest things is that in the

time it takes to bat an eyelid,

you have been redefined. On

this weekend 12 months ago

Phil Mickelson achieved the

most astonishing victory of

his career. At 50 he won the US PGA

Championship to become the oldest

winner of a major.

On Tuesday in Tulsa they held the

tournament’s champions’ dinner,

which Mickelson should have hosted.

He didn’t attend because he wasn’t in

Tulsa. “It was a fun evening. Phil was

not missed,” said Dave Stockton,

winner of the US PGA Championship

in 1970 and 1976. “Phil would have

been a big distraction.”

Et tu, Dave.

Eight years ago Stockton, 80, was

Mickelson’s putting coach.

Mickelson hasn’t been seen on a

golf course since early February, his

self-imposed exile coming after golf

writer Alan Shipnuck revealed the

detail of a conversation he’d had with

Mickelson three months before.

During their chat Mickelson called

the Saudis “scary motherf***ers”,

said they execute people “for being

gay” and have a horrible record on

human rights but claimed it was a

once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to

reshape the PGA Tour.

Mickelson told Shipnuck that he

was speaking with the Saudis to get a

better deal for the top players. Once

Shipnuck wrote about their

conversation, Mickelson’s life

changed.

People were appalled he could be

flippant about human rights abuses in

Saudi Arabia. After that, Mickelson

disappeared from view. An apology

that said his comments had been “off-

the-record” and used out of context

only made things worse. Mickelson

dealt with the Saudis because there

was the possibility of making a lot of

money.

In relation to the conversation with

Shipnuck, I’ve got some sympathy for

Mickelson.

Shipnuck had been looking to

speak with him for more than a year

about a biography he was writing

about the player that was published

last week. Mickelson fudged at first.

Shipnuck asked again. Eventually the

player said no but then last November

messaged the journalist and they

agreed to talk on the phone.

What happened next would be an

interesting subject for a journalism

class. We know the call lasted an hour

and from the amount of material he

attributed to Mickelson, it is likely

Shipnuck recorded it. Mickelson says

what he said was off the record,

Shipnuck says he will go to his grave

certain it was not.

It is not difficult to imagine what

might have happened here:

Mickelson thinks they’re having an

informal chat, Shipnuck believes that

because the player hasn’t said

anything’s off the record, well then

it’s not. Did Shipnuck remind

Mickelson they were on the record

and not just shooting the breeze? I

ask this because journalists often find

themselves drawn into informal

conversations with interviewees who

speak with exaggerated candour to

avoid a more formal interchange.

You find yourself saying, “Hold on,

I need to ask you about that on the

record.” Could Mickelson have truly

believed he was on the record? Even

someone as forthright as he is going

to think twice before publicly calling

the Saudis “scary motherf***ers”?

Journalists aren’t compelled to

remind their interviewees about the

consequences of what they’re saying,

but it happens all the time. We want

to be certain they know what they’re

getting into. Shipnuck didn’t give

Mickelson this opportunity.

Last week I read Shipnuck’s book

Phil, The Rip-Roaring (and

Unauthorized!) Biography of Golf ’s

Most Colorful Superstar. It is terrific

fun, 19 chapters that read like

Mickelson’s swashbuckling back nine

in the final round of the 2004

Masters.

Any fan reading it will be able to

tell Mickelson stories for the rest of

their lives. There’s the match against

tough guy Jeff Thomas in the 1990 US

Amateur at Cherry Hills. Thomas had

a reputation for getting inside an

opponent’s head and that day he was

expected to use every trick against

Mickelson.

First hole, Thomas has a 40-foot

putt for par while Mickelson has a

four-footer for birdie. As Thomas

begins to line up his putt, Mickelson

says, “Pick it up.” The concession was

not as ridiculous as it seemed. As

Mickelson stroked his four-footer into

the hole, Thomas was left to wonder

Mickelson is

accused of

not treating

Mackay

properly

David

Walsh

Generous and fun or a

gambler devoid of

humility? Mickelson’s

fall from grace

adds to the riddle

of a man who

remains a

mystery — even

to his caddie

of 25 years

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