Over the next four days in San Diego the world’s second best golfer, gracing
the stirringly-named Farmers Insurance Open with his presence, is likely to
field questions almost exclusively about one gaping absence.
The deadline for committing to the US Tour start at Torrey Pines came and went
without a word from Tiger
Woods, who has won there seven times. That is all to the good for
Mickelson, who can make his season’s debut unencumbered by the shadow of his
nemesis, while being feted at every turn by crowds who go weak-kneed at his
easy grin.
But after two months in which every jumped-up journeyman has postured as an
expert in crisis management or sex addiction, will Mickelson be able to help
himself? Memories of the slights from Woods, who icily ignored him during
the final round of last year’s Masters, or from Woods’s caddie and sidekick,
Steve “I can’t stand the -----” Williams, are seared upon his psyche.
Assuredly, Woods’s industrial-level philandering offers easy ammunition. Mere
anticipation of the possible Mickelson broadsides has America’s press pack
slavering. It was almost seven years ago when, with golf’s defining
antipathy still in its infancy, 'Lefty’ accused his rival of having
“inferior equipment”. He was talking about golf clubs.
Popular images of Woods and Mickelson have never been so polarised. In one
corner lurks Woods, unshaven and swaddled in a towel, skulking among the
outbuildings of a Mississippi rehab centre, while in the other stands
Mickelson, beaming as if he has just stepped out of a toothpaste advert and
bolstered by the respect earned from his public for supporting his wife and
mother through breast cancer.
The last time the rivals stood together was in Shanghai, at the HSBC Champions
event in November, when Mickelson faced down a Sunday charge from Woods and
prevailed. Now that Mickelson is ensconced as the tour’s main draw, he can
cement the ascendancy. He can resort to some shameless vote-winning tactics,
too, if he likes.
American golfers have shown often enough at Ryder Cups that they do not shrink
from using their families as publicity props — do not expect Amy Mickelson
to be far from the 18th green in the very plausible event of victory this
weekend.
More probable, though, is that Mickelson will handle any mention of Woods with
silk rather than spite, delivering well-crafted words of sympathy and thus
reminding his legions of fans why they like him so much more than the other
guy. And where these two are concerned, it is inescapably a question of who
you like: to embrace Mickelson is to admire club-twirling audacity verging
on recklessness, while to side with Woods is to respect an awesome talent
tempered by a sometimes extraordinary lack of grace.
The received wisdom is that Mickelson can seize upon this interregnum in the
sport to usurp. Automatically he becomes the world’s de facto No 1, but such
is the flair of his play that the qualification should not apply for long.
Woods would be loath to accept that. It is not easy to forget how his face
creased in disgust when Mickelson, his Ryder Cup partner one miserable
Michigan day in 2004, duck-hooked a drive nearly into the next state. They
have never been paired in matchplay competition since, indeed have rarely
even talked.
The PGA Tour money men are looking to Mickelson in the hope that he can
enliven a calendar rendered frighteningly arid by the loss of Woods. They
will look in vain. The bottom line at Torrey Pines has been enough to make
them cry into their clubhouse cocktails: ticket sales down, hospitality
tents fewer, and a title sponsor that came at a cut-price rate.
It used to be said of Joe Frazier that nobody cared about him until Muhammad
Ali came along. A similar uncomfortable truth hovers over Mickelson. This
amiable 39 year-old has a fervent following in the United States but he has
never, unlike Woods, gone global. He is undeniably important to golf but he
will never, unlike Woods, be the underpinning of the entire industry.