FIGJAM Agonistes

This is Phil Mickelson. Golf pro. Numero uno or two-oh in the world depending on who you talk to. He struck a pose similar to this Sunday afternoon upon throwing away the U.S. Open with both hands. He blew a two stroke lead on the final hole to hand the championship on a platter to Australian Geoff Ogilvy. Mickelson has been known, somewhat derisively, as "Phil the Thrill." This is due to his former style of play in which he hit the ball all over the place and relied on his short game to get up and done for pars. I mean, this is a guy that carries a 64 degree wedge. One that he had custom made for him. Most guys, myself included, have no business trying to hit a 60 degree wedge.

We had thought that "Phil the Thrill" had gone away. Tired of being referred to as the "Greatest Player Never to Win a Major" ( a dubious honor that now falls upon Colin Montgomerie) Mickelson started dialing it back. He began playing it safe. He went for percentages instead of whatever wildassed notion might strike him out there. Upon replacing his inner Salvador Dali with the golf equivalent of Earl Weaver he won three majors. And, according to Esquire magazine, shortly thereafter acquired another nickname: FIGJAM. Which is an unflattering acronym for "Fuck I'm Good. Just Ask Me."

But back to last Sunday. Phil Mickelson entered the final round with a 4 stroke lead. Unfortunately, "Phil the Thrill" showed up to play the final three holes. On 17, he put it in the woods. He also put it in a garbage can. No problemo. He takes a free drop and salvages bogey. FIGJAM! Having eluded disaster on 17 he approached number 18-a par 4-needing only to make another bogey to force a playoff.

Now, I have been playing golf for about 8 years. I am a bad golfer. Really bad. I play well enough to scrape it around with my far more talented friends. But that's about all I can say for myself. I can scarcely imagine what it must be like to play golf for real. But I think I can identify trends. If I have hit only 2 fairways out of 14, if my last drive wound up in a garbage can, I rethink my strategy off the tee.

But I'm not "Phil the Thrill." He withdraws the driver yet again. Which he promptly hits 60 yards off of the fairway, striking a hospitality tent. After swooning a la Mimi in "La Boheme" he turned to his second shot. Instead of punching out into the fairway, he tried some hope-to-Jesus shot to try to save par. Instead he hit a tree and the ball settled about 25 yards away. By the time he gets off the course, he has carded a double bogey and Ogilvy is inscribed upon golf history's immortal scroll. Thanks, mate!

To his credit, FIGJAM manned up about it. "I am an idiot." he said. Nobody in the assembled press corps challenged this statement. Neither did my brother John who is a scratch golfer.

"I don't care if you are playing for the US Open, the Fourth of July Tournament at War Memorial or to see who buys the beer after the round." he said. "You take that score (double-bogey) out of play. You do it by hitting a 2-iron or 3 wood off the tee. You keep the ball in the fairway and you get on in regulation. Enough weird stuff can happen to you out there without going out of your way to manufacture it."

Some observers, like my brother, believe that this was a massive choke job. Others think that Mickelson was just too macho to play for the tie. All I know is that for about a 25 minute stretch he looked like a pudgier version of me with hair out there. I do not mean that as a compliment.

Don't cry for Mickelson. He will recover. He will win another major. He has more money than he can possibly spend in one lifetime.

But you have got to figure that he will forever rue the day that "Phil the Thrill" climbed back inside his head.