A Winner and a Runner-Up, but No Losers

Payne Stewart was finished. His pretty blue cap was soaked, his pretty white knee socks were splotched with mud, his eyes were closed in pain.

Stewart’s eight-foot par putt had just rolled softly past the 15th hole, and he was finished.

“Your gut just turns,” he said.

Phil Mickelson was finished. His head was shaking, his black shirt was flopping out of his khakis, his gallery was gasping as if somebody had just dropped a baby.

Mickelson’s eight-foot putt had just rolled past the 16th hole, and he was finished.

“Nerve-racking,” he said.

Stewart was supposed to quit. He didn’t. Mickelson was supposed to be overwhelmed. He fought back.

The U.S. Open champion Sunday was Stewart. Then it was Mickelson. Then Stewart. Then Mickelson.

Then, finally, on a glorious putt that weaved through the raindrops and over the demons and into the 18th hole with a roar as big as all of North Carolina, the winner was Stewart.

And it was golf.

On the sort of soggy day that the game’s Scottish inventors had in mind, with a nation watching and careers at stake, two men chased a little ball with courage and dignity.

Chased it into trees, and sand, and high grass, yet never into despair.

Chased it until the 72nd hole of a 72-hole tournament, when they were allowed to chase it no more.

The winner wept.

The loser approached him to shake his hand.

The winner grabbed the loser’s head, stared into his eyes, and told him not to worry, that he would soon be the winner.

Thousands of witnesses stood awe-struck in the sprinkling rain.

“Oh my,” Stewart said afterward. “Wow.”

If golf indeed imitates life, then it has rarely put on a better show than during the final four holes of its most important American tournament.

Stewart and Mickelson took a situation that often brings out our worst, and gracefully showed us how it can be used to reveal a man’s best.

With four holes remaining, they were sharing something that could only belong to one.

And they both had something to prove.

Last year, Stewart blew a four-shot lead on the final day to lose the Open championship.

Before this weekend, Mickelson had won 13 tournaments, yet never a major.

With four holes remaining, the two men tied for the lead at one under par, the story line at Pinehurst No. 2 was clear.

One of them would soar while the other choked. One of them would perform well, and the other would collapse. One would crow, and the other would make excuses.

It happens every night in some arena or another. It was supposed to happen again.

When Stewart missed that par putt on 15, that was where it was supposed to start.

Walking to the 16th tee, Mickelson was smiling. Stewart was madly chewing his gum.

“I thought I was in control,” Mickelson said.

“I wasn’t just going to hand him the trophy,” Stewart said.

And for the final three holes, Stewart did not look at one Mickelson shot. He would look down, or away, or at the hole, or fix his pants.

But not once did he look at his opponent, understanding that our only opponent is ourselves.

“I was only thinking about getting the job done,” Stewart said.

So on 16, he did not even smile when he saved par with a downhill 16-footer . . . before Mickelson missed an eight-footer for par.

Just like that, they were tied again.

“I never gave up,” Stewart said.

Then when Stewart put his tee shot within three feet on 17, Mickelson started to worry.

“The realization that he could beat me entered my mind,” Mickelson said.

But not that much. He quickly put his tee shot within eight feet.

Because Tiger Woods and Vijay Singh were finishing ahead of them, the crowd roared before their putts. Because a church is nearby, there were chimes ringing during their backswings.

The pelting rain grew harder. The wind whipped it into their faces.

Stewart felt none of it. He calmly made his short putt on 16 for a birdie.

Mickelson rolled his putt long, and settled for par, falling one stroke behind.

But then he nailed his tee shot on 18, and Stewart put his first shot into the right rough, and the battle continued.

Said Mickelson: “Even then, I thought I was in a good situation.”

Said Stewart: “I saw the TV announcer look over my ball and say something . . . like they always do when you’re in the rough. But I had a job to do.”

Mickelson put his second shot on the green, and Stewart was forced to chip his second shot out of the grass, putting it 77 yards short of the pin, and it looked as if there would be a tie and a playoff.

But then Stewart chipped on the green to within 15 feet, an amazingly calm shot in a pressure-thick moment.

Mickelson just missed his birdie try, and with Stewart standing over his potential tournament-ending putt, the left-hander realized what everyone would soon realize.

There would be no loser.

“I thought, if it goes in, I get to go home and see my Amy [his pregnant wife],” Mickelson recalled. “If it doesn’t . . . I stick around for a playoff.”

The putt went in, and Stewart pumped his fist through the darkening skies, and then it became clear.

He won it. Mickelson did not lose it.

He grabbed it. Mickelson did not drop it.

“I just didn’t have that little extra that Payne showed,” Mickelson said.

But in the end, this was about what they both showed.

This world is so full of victories and defeats, how splendid it was that for one day, it was difficult to tell the difference.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at his e-mail address: bill.plaschke@latimes.com.