Phil Mickelson’s Fall From Grace Has Been Stunningly Depressing

It’s U.S. Open week at Shinnecock Hills, a place that brings up two indelible Phil Mickelson memories.

The first was back in 2004 when he faced off against Retief Goosen. Mickelson was tied with Goosen on the 71st tee but made a double bogey on the par-3 17th and lost the tournament—one of his six runner-ups in the U.S. Open.

The second was in 2018. Lefty wasn’t in contention that week but he made headlines by hitting a moving ball on the 13th green, something no rational golfer would ever do. My colleague at the time, John Hopkins of Global Golf Post, went on national TV and called Mickelson a “silly ass” for what he did (Hoppy later apologized to Phil even though the statement was accurate).

I wish we could get that “silly ass” version of Mickelson back. I wish we could get that “U.S. Open runner-up champion” version of Mickelson back.

We’re in a different, far more depressing era of Mickelson’s career at the moment.

Mickelson has burned all of his goodwill

Remember the 2021 PGA Championship where Mickelson captivated the golf world by inexplicably becoming the oldest major champion in golf history?

At the time, his popularity soared. Mickelson was enveloped by the crowd at Kiawah.

Aside from the 2004 Masters, Mickelson was never more of a hero than five years ago at the PGA as he rallied for one last major title.

But since that time, Lefty has torched his reputation in a way few saw coming.

Sure, Mickelson has always been a bit of a wild card. The optimist calls him an entertainer; the pessimist calls him a phony.

Not too dissimilar from Bryson DeChambeau, Mickelson is a king of performance art. He’s the smartest guy in the room, someone who loves the sound of his own voice. His golf correlated with his personality as he made a swashbuckling career believing he could pull off the heroic shot. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

Mickelson entranced fans with his gunslinger nature, endless autograph sessions and a certain underdog mentality—even if he built the Hall of Fame career of a perennial favorite.

Throughout his career, Mickelson was just Mickelson. Many golf fans could see through the facade—that his true genuine nature was far more problematic than what appeared on the surface—but most of his shortcomings weren’t considered offensive. If anything, they added to the entertaining, somewhat unhinged, character he had constructed.

These last five years? Maybe all of that finally caught up with him.

Mickelson’s next chapter of golf figured to center around a broadcasting career. He would be a U.S. Ryder Cup captain, a ceremonial figure at the Masters, an ambassador for the game. The possibilities were endless.

Instead, Mickelson went scorched earth and might have thrown those opportunities away.

He played a crucial role in tearing the pro golf world apart; he called the Saudis “scary motherfuckers” and then claimed his comments were off the record; he went off the grid and skipped the Masters; he went from being one of the all-time great golf press room speakers to a totally muzzled puppet using defensive generalities; he got deep into political conspiracy Twitter; the severity of his sports gambling addiction came to light (allegedly he has lost hundreds of millions); and, according to a recent Golf Digest report, he lost a course membership because of non-consensual, inappropriate contact with a female employee at The Farms in Rancho Santa Fe, Calif. (Golf Digest says the club confronted Mickelson immediately after the alleged incident, in the middle of a round, and he was told to leave the premises immediately. He was not allowed back, and his picture was taken down by the club.)

It turns out that when Mickelson’s on-course performance no longer carries weight—and he hasn’t been at all relevant since a stunning runner-up finish at the 2023 Masters—his creepiness has replaced his charm.

It’s honestly just depressing that he’s become like this. Even Phil’s biggest haters don’t want to see this.

I’m not sure Mickelson has much of any meaningful future in golf after he’s burned several bridges.

Why it’s easier to forgive Tiger compared to Phil

The game’s two biggest stars used to be Tiger and Phil.

Maybe their greatness came at a cost, because their personal lives seem battered.

Tiger has done some inexcusable things. Put lives in danger. Marital infidelity.

But at the same time, you can kind of connect the dots with Tiger. He ruined his body in the drive for legendary heights. He probably ruined a lot of relationships, too. He got addicted to pain killers. His story, while incredibly reckless, feels more understandable than it is nefarious. There is some sympathy for a human who was built to dominate a sport and is now facing the consequences of that.

Maybe you can apply some of these same principles to Mickelson but Phil’s last five years have been laced with a vindictive, unapologetic attitude. He reeks of sleazeball and demonstrates moral bankruptcy. There is a sentiment that maybe he’s a great golfer who just happens to not be a great guy—even though he once wore the mask of the everyman.

Tiger never wore that mask. He never represented the common man. It was how uncommon he was that made him a hero.

And maybe that is why it’s easier to forgive him. His life is so singular and unbelievable.

Mickelson gave off the image of more balanced priorities but it feels like that image was doing some heavy lifting for what was underneath.

I think we now know what is underneath. It isn’t pretty.

Top Photo Caption: Phil Mickelson has burned a lot of goodwill the past few years. (GETTY IMAGES/Michael Miller)