Micklelson remains Memphis fan favorite
Sherri Rowell and Janet Chapman set up behind the ropes, clear across the 16th green from Phil Mickelson, who was making a total hash of the hole.
He plunked his second shot into the bunker to the right of the hole. Then he smacked his third shot out of the bunker, over the green, and over the bunkers on the other side of the hole. Then, if you can believe it, he hit the ball back over the green and into the original bunker.
“Lordy, he’s making a mess of this,” said Rowell, which was indisputably, emphatically true.
Then she brightened. She pointed at Chapman, standing to her left.
“We’re hoping he hits us,” she said. “She wants a glove. I want a hug.”
Which shows just how lovable Mickelson has become at the ripe old age of 42. Not even a double bogey on No. 16 at Southwind can discourage his fans.
“I just think he’s great,” said Judy Porter.
“Oh, I just love him,” said Suzanne Wilkie.
“He’s the last classy golfer,” said Justin Keathley, which — let’s be fair — isn’t the slightest bit true. But it says something about Mickelson’s career, doesn’t it? That people say things like that? Mickelson is that rare athlete who can draw fans in huge throngs by being nice. Often, nice is seen as getting in the way of popularity. These days, snark sells.
“Phil Mickelson is a true gentleman,” said Paul Richardson.
Who buys tickets to that?
Turns out, a whole lot of people, as FedEx St. Jude tournament director Phil Cannon can attest. When Mickelson committed to play Memphis, the golf tournament was being totally overshadowed by the Grizzlies playoff run. Indeed, I was in San Antonio when he committed. I was waiting for the Grizzlies practice to end when the news broke on Twitter.
“Phil has committed,” said a TV reporter, as we waited in the hallways of the AT&T Center. Although nobody was even thinking about golf at the time, everyone knew exactly what that meant.
“He’s such an icon, you don’t even have to use his last name,” said Cannon, who jokingly calls Mickelson “golf’s other Phil.”
Here’s the kind of impact Mickelson has on a tournament: The day after he committed to Memphis, Cannon hired another person to answer phones.
Thursday, Mickelson teed off at 7:27 a.m. But even at that hour, he had his fans.
“I would have been here, but I sure wouldn’t have been here this early except for Phil,” said Jack Henton.
Henton, 80, is a retired minister. He had decided to walk all 18 with Mickelson.
Dan Haire came with his 5-year-old son, Brody.
“He was up at 6 a.m., saying he wanted to go see Phil,” said the elder Haire.
Judy Porter wore a pink blouse to the course, in honor of Amy Mickelson’s fight with breast cancer.
Josh and Rene Foster brought a passel of kids who had stayed up all night at a church lock-in but were insistent on seeing Mickelson anyway.
Tim Ferrell was sent by his wife, Janet, who had to work Thursday.
“She can’t get here until Saturday,” said Ferrell. “She told me to cheer Phil on so he makes the cut.”
For the longest time, it didn’t appear that Ferrell was doing a good job of that. Especially on 16.
“I hadn’t played in three weeks and I was a little rusty,” said Mickelson. “I hit some pathetic chips out there.”
Then Mickelson — who started on the back nine — birdied the first three holes on the front.
“I felt good about battling back,” he said, after finishing 1 over par. “I’m striking the ball as well as I have in a long time.”
In the end, that’s the point of this visit to Mem- phis. Mickelson is preparing to take another run at the U. S. Open. At 42, he may not have a whole lot of chances left to win the title he covets the most.
But Mickelson’s legacy is secure, and it’s not built entirely on championships. It’s built on scenes like the one that unfolded after his round Thursday, when Mickelson — who had just bogeyed 18 — spent a solid 10 minutes signing autographs.
It was telling, to watch him. He didn’t just scribble his name and move on. He looked every fan in the eye as he signed whatever they stuck in front of him. He was generous and engaged.
No, this isn’t complicated stuff. And that’s really the point. Decency isn’t as complicated as some make it seem. Just do what your mother taught you way back when.
So Mickelson worked his way clear to the end of the autograph line, then worked his way back again.
“You’re a class act, Phil,” someone said.
“Thank you,” he said.
To reach Geoff Calkins call 901-
commercialappeal.com.