Tiger and Phil Are Together Again at the Masters, But Only One Is Revered
AUGUSTA, Ga. — Tiger Woods became an icon because he played golf better than anyone ever had. He can’t do that any more, but it doesn’t really matter. You can watch him swing an iron or feather a chip and still see Tiger Woods.
Phil Mickelson became a beloved alternative to Woods because of how he charmed. He can’t do that any more, and it absolutely matters. You can hear him joke about how he lost weight (“I stopped eating food, that was a big help”) or use a line from the comedy “Dodgeball” to describe one of his shots, and it’s still hard to believe this is Phil Mickelson.
The difference at Augusta National has been stark all week: Woods was welcomed back, and Mickelson was just back. The galleries were packed for Woods, who was paired with two PGA Tour stars and potential winners: Viktor Hovland and Xander Schauffele. Mickelson was paired with Tom Hoge and Si Woo Kim, two of the least-known pros in the field. His galleries were sparse, the applause as quiet as if fans clapped with one hand.
In conditions ripe for low scores, Woods shot 74 and Mickelson shot 71, but we assumed going in that neither man would win this week, and neither will. Great golfers don’t return to Augusta National just to win another green jacket or wear their old one. They come because this place, more than any other in sports, helps aging stars feel like the best version of their younger selves.
When Mickelson went to work for the Saudi Arabian royal family, he robbed himself of a happier final chapter. Mickelson insisted the Champions Dinner felt the same as always, but he can’t dispute reports that he sat quietly in a corner the whole time. With Woods and Nicklaus at the table, Mickelson could never win that room over, and he knew it. He did not hold a pre-tournament press conference, which would be automatic for a three-time champion, and whether that was Phil’s call or the club’s, the reason is the same:
Phil Mickelson helped a murderous regime create a sportswashing golf circuit that threatens the PGA Tour, all so he could get paid another hundred-plus million on top of the hundreds of millions he has already made in golf.
Mickelson could have done a lot and remained beloved. But not that.
He has always been a salesman, and most of what he sold was so entertaining that nobody really wanted to check the label and see what was really in it. I used to figure that as long as Mickelson gave paying customers a great experience, it didn’t really matter if he was putting on a front. But when Mickelson said Thursday that he lost weight because “I want to give myself a chance to play for a few years and experience a new format and something new and exciting and be with teammates,” it dripped with disingenuousness. He used to say what sounded good and cash in on it. Now he is actively selling something that is terrible for his sport and the world.
I don’t think most fans here hate him. I think they see that his appeal was built on a myth. At least three times in the first round, Mickelson hit the kinds of shots that once drew distinctly Lefty cheers: A right-handed recovery shot, a driver off the pine straw at No. 2, and another driver off the fairway on No. 8. Now they were just shots. The one on No. 8 came within a foot of going in the hole for double eagle. There was no roar.
“You only live once” has a different meaning now, after Mickelson himself told author Alan Shipnuck that the Saudis “killed [Washington Post reporter Jamal] Khashoggi and have a horrible record on human rights. They execute people over there for being gay,” and then took their money anyway.
If you want to watch an aging star who won’t win here this week, then choosing Tiger over Phil is easy.
Woods still makes people believe. He doesn’t even mean to do it anymore. He said this week that he doesn’t know how many more Masters he can play, and he has answered the same questions about his right leg the same way so many times: Pain is constant, it always will be, and he will never play a full schedule again. And still, fans wonder if he will do something magical.
The golfers who left the PGA Tour for LIV fall into four categories: fading players, minor figures, current stars, and Phil Mickelson. He was the only one who could have transitioned to a lucrative career as entertainer, elder statesman and broadcaster and chose a much darker path instead.
Some of what he forfeited is specific, like the chance to be Ryder Cup captain. But most of it is emotional and reputational. Jack Nicklaus hasn’t made much news in the last three decades, but he still fills several press conferences each year just because people want to hear him talk. Maybe someday Augusta National will ask Mickelson to hit a ceremonial first tee shot, the way Nicklaus, Gary Player and Tom Watson did Thursday. But he will spend years not knowing if that’s possible—and while the tee shot itself doesn’t count, the warm reception sure does.
In recent years, Mickelson made hilarious “Phireside Chat” videos, became a funny Twitter presence, and played a practice round here with his old rival: Tiger.
Once, long ago, Woods woke up and discovered that the world thought he was a jerk. The details and merits of the charge don’t matter now as much as how Woods eventually responded. He changed how he interacted with people. He was nicer. He was more open, less suspicious. It was surely not easy to go from fiercely guarded to softer and kinder, but Mickelson would have to go from spinning to not spinning, which is harder—and he would have to extricate himself from LIV Golf, which is contractually and practically impossible.
At times Thursday, as he smiled through his answers while his wife Amy, accompanying him to a tournament for the first time in a while, smiled a few yards away. He frankly seemed more like the old Phil than he had in a year. He talks about golf in a way that is so insightful and entertaining that he could have become one of the best commentators in all of sports. But just as the LIV “team” logo on his hat and shirt were so much more prominent than the old jumping Phil silhouette on his belt buckle, what he did hovered over anything he said.
When a reporter said most fans are seeing him for the first time in a while, Mickelson said, “I wouldn’t phrase it that way.” It was a small pushback on the notion that almost nobody is watching LIV. But almost nobody is watching LIV. Phil can’t sell his way out of that.
You could see Phil Mickelson here Thursday, but you could not see the old Phil.
What you could see, if you had a little imagination, was a glimpse of the old Tiger Woods.
In the middle of a steamy afternoon, an 85-year-old man stood on the pine straw alongside the 13th hole and looked through green binoculars toward the green, then trudged slowly toward the 14th tee. You could have assumed the man was watching Tiger even if you did not know he was Nike founder Phil Knight.
A slow-walking billionaire cheering on a sometimes-limping billionaire would not make for much of a sports movie. But Knight signed Woods when he left Stanford, stayed with him through the creation and demise of Nike’s equipment division, walked Augusta National alongside Tiger’s mom Tida on Masters Sunday for years, and is as close to a forever presence as there is in Tiger’s professional life. This Masters has reminded us that Tiger’s game will never really return, but Tiger can come by any time.
Tiger Woods is on the grounds. Phil Mickelson’s name is on the tee sheet.