It was early Wednesday morning, June 14, 2006, when my eight year old son and I began our trip to the 2006 U.S. Open. We were headed to Grandma’s house in Westchester, only 15 miles from the tournament site in Winged Foot in Mamaroneck, NY. We drove down to Westchester Community College where we were bused in to the famed Winged Foot Golf Club. Summer had come early to Westchester this year as the temperature had soared well past 90 degrees. We got off the air conditioned bus and the cloudless day allowed the sun to bake down upon us.
As Zackie is left-handed, it would seem logical that Phil Mickelson is his favorite player. So, off to the range we went, in search of Mickey Mouse. We don’t call him Mickey Mouse because of his many questionable decisions made in the Major event, rather the name is used more because we find him to be more of a lovable Disney character. When we found Mickey Mouse, we followed him, and Zackie was just in awe of this great player from the shots he struck to the long drives he sent sailing. Zackie thoroughly enjoyed following Phil from the 1st tee to the 18th green. By the end of the long day we visited my sick mother in the hospital and Zackie was lit up like a Christmas tree. He told her about every shot that was hit from each hole. It was almost as if my mother was at the Open instead of the hospital bed. I am a PGA golf professional by trade, and have never really been a big fan of Phil Mickelson, but as that week worn on I had a change of heart.
Thursday, June 15th
On day two of the tournament, we now have a program and our day is completely surrounded by Phil’s every move. We were watching him on the big practice range. He was hitting monster drives, all the way to his high soft wedge shots. On the first tee there was a gallery stand all the way around the tee. We were lucky enough to get near the huge ash trees that coated the first tee in shade. Again it was a cloudless, hot day…much warmer than it should be for June.
As the U.S. Open began, my son looked up to me and said, “Dad, this is for real. This is the U.S. Open. Do you think he has a chance?” My reply was, “He has won three majors, and with the way he was striking the ball yesterday and on the range today, if he gets a little lucky, he can be holding that U.S. Open trophy on Sunday.” The day went on and Phil played very well. As he walked down the 14th fairway, I yelled over to him, “Grand Slam!” He looked back at me with that wry smile of his, and nodded his head. I’m sure he remembered me, as Zackie and I were at Shinnecock, and from the 16th hole par 5 packed bleachers I yelled out to him on that day, “Grand Slam!” and his illustrious following all yelled back “one at a time.” They wouldn’t have said that if I yelled it at Tiger. Even his loyal fans felt it was beyond his ability. Even though that year he had also won the Masters and was the only one who could have won the Grand Slam as he had the first leg in place. Zackie was totally embarrassed, and acted as if I wasn’t his father. And as I made the comment to Phil, as he walked down the 14th fairway, “Grand Slam” Zackie moved far away, as if to say, “Phil, don’t pay any attention to him.” Phil went on to an even par 70 that day, with a 6 inch rough and lightening fast greens. Of course, Grandma heard all about it.
Friday, June 16th
The unthinkable happened. Who would believe that Tiger was headed home? That eight year old believed it, as he looked up to me and said, ‘Dad, Phil can win this.” I looked back and said, “He sure can, Zackie. Without a player of Tiger’s ability in this field, his chances have greatly increased.” It did sadden me, however, as a golf professional not to have Tiger there. To see that great golf swing and display of a heart of a lion that man has. A player of his persona comes by once in a lifetime. I would never let Zackie know I was sad Tiger was not there, as it was exactly what he had hoped would happen. Phil shot 73 that day and sat at 143 for the tournament making him very well positioned, especially with the greatest player in the world not in that field.
Saturday, June 17th
As Saturday began, there was an excitement in the air that Phil Mickelson was the player to beat in the 2006 U.S. Open. The crowds that were once following Tiger were now following Mr. Mickelson. We spent the day working really hard to see every shot of that brilliant 69. It was much easier for Zackie to see than for me, as he fit in all the nooks and crannies that an eight year old can find on a crowded golf course. For me, I was content to wait for the cheers.
Sunday, June 18th
It was an unbearably hot and very humid Father’s Day. But despite the heat, there wasn’t any other place that I would rather be on Father’s Day, than at the U.S. Open Tournament with my son. Still, having been through four full days at the Open, the heat was more than either of us could take. It was 10 a.m. in the morning and Phil didn’t tee off until 3 p.m. I looked in Zackie’s eyes and he was running on empty. There was no way he was getting to watch Phil play that afternoon. I said to him, “Zackie, the crowds are really, really large and we are both really, really tired. Let’s go home and sit in front of the TV and watch Phil win from the comfort of Grandma’s living room.” “No, Dad. No way. We’re staying until the final putt.” Zackie insisted and I replied, “Yeah, sure.”
We were on the fifth hole, positioned to watch the second shots into the beautiful par 4. I fell asleep for about two hours. Sean O’Hair threw a ball over to Zackie but his aim was off and the ball hit me in the head and woke me up. Zackie was fighting extreme heat and his mobility was that of a 90 year old. He was frozen on the fifth hole. So, I did what any father would do at Winged Foot. They have two water fountains, and the water comes out at an icy 40 degrees. They were hidden in the woods around the 7th hole. It was like finding an oasis in the desert. I took our empty water bottles and filled them up. I started to take the water and pour it on the nape of his neck, like my father did for me on hot, humid days. To my amazement he sprang back. I kept pouring that water on the nape of his neck, and he was rejuvenated as if were the first day of the tournament again. I repeated this process every hour or so.
By the time Phil teed off, we were refreshed and intended to see every shot that he played to win his first U.S. Open. We not only made it through the hot day, but we were ready to go! We wouldn’t miss a shot and were front row for every swing. It got a little tricky down around hole 13, the par 3. We had misjudged the size of the bleachers, and not even a mouse could fit in. The woman at the top of the stairs looked down at us and invited us to watch standing next to her. What a break! We not only saw his second shot on 12, but we also saw him play 13 and his drive on 14. Holes 15 and 16 are impossible to view. However, Zackie got invited up on the camera truck on the 16th green and was able to see the shots that the camera man was taping. As Phil got back to 17, we were back in our groove, close to the tee on the drive. The rope went up in the fairway and we were right there.
Now, the story really takes a turn that, as a golf professional, I found myself living a part of golf history which I will never forget. The 18th tee sits back in a covey of trees. It was impossible to see anybody hit from there unless you were on the right side of the tee, which had been roped throughout the tournament. As we got there, the ropes were down. Luckily, we were the only ones that realized it. So with the whole golf course now at the 18th hole, we were at the top of the tee looking right at Phil. We could see him, we could hear him, and we could almost smell him. Out on the fairway were Colin Montgomery and Geoff Olgilvy. They hit and disappeared around the heavily treed dogleg. Before Phil hit, he went over and asked the official what Montgomery scored on the hole. The official replied, “He’s still playing, he’s not finished.” The scoreboard on the 18th hole was very close to the tee. The man operating the scoreboard surely must have had vision of the tee.
As Phil got up to hit his drive, he put the tee in the ground, teed up the ball, stepped back to check his line, stepped up to the ball, and just before he could pull the trigger, the scoreboard operator changed Colin Montgomery’s score from +4 to +6. When the score changed, the moment in history changed. The New York crowd absolutely took Phil in as their own and when they saw the scoreboard change, they went crazy. Phil stepped away from his shot and waited for the crowd to calm. As a golf professional, there is a time that belongs to the player. You’re not to speak to him or applaud him. You are to keep quiet and respect his setup. From the time of the setup to when the club hits the ball is sacred ground. When the scoreboard operator changed the board right before Phil took the club back, he violated that sacred ground. Before the scoreboard change, 3 was the score Phil needed to win. After the change, 4 was the score he needed on this hole. Phil was still in the moment of knowing he needed a 3. His mindset never adapted to the scoreboard change. For I say if Phil was allowed to play the shot that he practiced for two weeks, played his bread and butter shot, and knowing that he needed birdie to win, he would have nailed it. There’s no doubt in my mind that to not allow him to hit that shot at that precise time and moment created the situation that followed.
Phil was so pumped when he saw Monty was in the middle of the fairway and had to figure with a seven iron in his hand he was somewhere on the green and made 4. Phil was playing for the win. He was going to hit a cut shot and fit that shot like hand to glove around that dogleg and looked right down the throat of that green with an 8 or 9 iron. The pin was in the middle of the green. He had been allowed to hit the drive when he was mentally prepared to and without the scoreboard distraction, the tournament would have been his. As Phil regrouped himself, he had the opportunity to put his driver away and to reach for a fairway wood and play for par but he never gave himself that chance. As I looked into his eyes, he was just in a zone where he had practiced that shot so much, and I don’t’ believe the scoreboard change registered with him mentally. But it surely affected him subconsciously. He walked behind the ball, set himself up and drew the club back, but at impact I believe he was trying to hit a fairway wood shot with a driver in his hand. The result was a much slower swing speed through impact, which left the club face wide open and some 60 yards off target. It was not the shot a player of his caliber makes. It was a layup shot with the wrong club. I almost feel he knew he should have hit the fairway wood and put the driver back, but he didn’t. I have to admit that if I was his caddy, I would have drove him to the ground, took the driver out of his hand and broke it in two over my knee. That didn’t’ happen either, so you have to ask the question, “Were there outside agencies that should have stayed outside to allowed Phil Mickelson to win the U.S. Open?”
After
I am now a Phil Mickelson fan and will always be one for the way he carried himself after that event. My son had asked me if we could stay around and get his autograph. I said “Zackie, you can’t expect a man who just lost the Open in this fashion to want to stay and sign autographs for kids.” Had I lost the Open in this way, they would have had to cart me away for my own protection. Phil, however, stayed and signed autographs for all those kids. Later that year in Westchester, NY at the Barclays Golf Tournament, I saw a lot of the pros run to their cars and leave after the event. Not Phil. He said to the kids, “I will be on the putting green in a half hour. I just want to get a drink.” I was one of those ‘kids’ waiting on the green for Phil, and I got his autograph and I am proud to have it. He is a wonderful golf professional who has made a difference on and off the course.
The Blue Whale Exercise Program 