Mickelson Still Hasn’t Got a Clue

Someday, maybe even someday soon, Phil Mickelson is going to have some explaining to do. About how he won his first major.

Until then, is there anybody out there who can figure out when the time will be right for Lefty?

Maybe Phil will leave enough clues behind to make it simple.

He will nail every single drive and the ball will roll to the middle of the fairway.

He won’t ever get sand on his golf ball. Well, maybe once, but then he’ll show his deft touch and finesse it out with the magic that is in his club and it will look as if he is popping a bar of soap out of the bathtub.

He will read every line, recognize every break, laugh at every grain, know every change of speed on every green and make every putt without breaking a sweat.

Yes, that’s how we will know it’s Lefty’s time.

Until then, we’re probably just going to have to keep scratching our heads, wondering when he is going to win a major.

Mickelson’s streak of major tournaments without a title reached 42, and counting, Friday at Hazeltine National Golf Club, where he put himself out of the running again, this time at the PGA Championship.

It was another perplexing display by one of golf’s most talented players. First, he finished his rain-delayed first round with a 76. Then he double-bogeyed the last hole of his second round, winding up at even par, and four over after 36 holes, just making the cut.

What distinguished his latest disappointment from the others? All you had to do was listen to Mickelson to get an idea. He said he thought he’d played pretty well, that he’d missed a couple of putts that could have gone in. Then he said he really didn’t know what had gone wrong. He said he didn’t know what else to say.

Well, if Lefty himself has no clue, then who does?

This would probably be a good time to call in the amateur analysts, because there are plenty of theories going around.

Prime among them is Mickelson’s “feel-good” psychological bent, or his mind-set. You can hear him say after falling short in another major, that he feels good about himself, that he had a good experience, that everything is fine. It is this mental approach that absolutely appalls Jack Nicklaus, Gary Player and Arnold Palmer. They think Phil’s way off base, that the only two places in a tournament are first and loser.

Mickelson has chosen not to beat himself up. He has even said that he’s not like Tiger Woods and he doesn’t think winning majors is the most important factor in his life.

Another theory is that Mickelson is out of shape. Yes, he’s a great natural talent, but it’s a fact that Woods and David Duval, to name a couple, are far more advanced in the weight, strength and stamina departments.

Other than being a talented guy, Phil the golfer is not without his share of positive attributes. Mickelson has won 21 tournaments--only 25 players in the history of golf have won more--and he’s only 32. Ben Hogan was 34 when he won his first major, the 1946 PGA Championship, and he went on to win eight more.

So you would have to say that time hasn’t run out on Mickelson. But still, wouldn’t you figure that in 42 tries, he might just have stumbled into a major title?

He was in the hunt at the Masters and wound up third when Woods won. He was also in contention at Bethpage Black in the U.S. Open and was second to Woods. He had back-to-back rounds of 76 at the British Open and tied for 66th, which brought us to Hazeltine, where once again he won’t win.

Look at all the one-shot wonders of late who aren’t Mickelson’s equal in talent, but are still major championship winners, guys like Bob Tway, Hal Sutton, Mark Brooks, Jeff Sluman, Paul Lawrie, Corey Pavin, Steve Jones and Paul Azinger.

How can this happen? As Mickelson’s streak grows, does it become more and more difficult for him to end it? Why are there more questions than answers?

It’s clear that Mickelson doesn’t know. He has tried beating himself up and easing up on himself. He has tried emphasizing majors and attaching less importance to them. He has tried talking about majors and clamming up.

Mickelson has come close. It took an 18-foot uphill putt on the last hole of the last day of the 1999 U.S. Open for Payne Stewart to beat him by a shot. And it took a hole in one on Saturday at the 2001 PGA Championship for David Toms to beat him by a shot.

Someone else might decide it’s time to try something radical. Actually, that’s what Woods and Nick Faldo did--they both broke down their swings and completely changed them--after winning major championships.

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with Mickelson’s swing. But something is obviously missing. In the meantime, Phil continues to be a fan favorite, for his sheepish, boyish grin; for signing autographs until his hand hurts; for going for broke when it sometimes might be better to pull back on the throttle.

That’s not Mickelson’s way, though. And it might be hard to argue about someone’s lack of success when that person has made nearly $22 million, which is what Mickelson has banked.

Even so, the debate rages on and so does the streak, lengthening as the shadows from the clubhouse fall across the 18th green on every Sunday of every major and Mickelson still hasn’t hoisted the trophy. The streak moves on to 2003 now, and there will be four more tries for Mickelson to end it before the questions become too burdensome, the pressure too great and the expectations too hard to handle.

Right now, though, there is no end in sight. Will the streak knock Phil into a frenzy? Or will he climb into his Gulfstream II and not worry about it?

It’s up to Phil. But then, it always has been.