Sophia and Philip are very, very close. When she was one year old, we could tell that she was going to be a strong-willed child—just like Philip used to be.
And sure enough, the two of them have butted heads a number of times.
Mary Mickelson, Phil’s Mom
One afternoon, when it was time for Sophia’s nap, she started misbehaving. “Now, Sophia,” I said, “we can’t be acting like this. Why don’t we lie down for a little while and take a nap.” So I put her in her crib and, as I left, she started screaming bloody murder.
“Sophia, if you keep this up, I’m going to have to take away your little friends” (her stuffed animals). Well, she kept it up and I came back in the room and took her friends away.
“Now Sophia, if you keep acting like this, I’m going to have to take your silkies away. I don’t want to, but it’s your choice.” So I left and she just screamed louder and louder. Then I went back in and took her silkies.
“Sophia, all you have left is your pacifier. Please don’t make me take your pacifier. Please stop crying. Now I’m going to leave and come back in a little while. Hopefully, you’ll stop crying and you can keep your pacifier.” This time I stood right outside the door to see if she was going to settle down. But she just screamed louder and louder. So I walked back into the room.
“Now Sophia,” I said—and before I could finish my sentence, Sophia stood up in the crib like the Statue of Liberty, whipped the pacifier out of her mouth, stuck her arm out, and handed it to me.
Well, I took it, walked out of the room, and put the pacifier at the foot of our bed where her friends and her silkies were. Then I went into the living room and sat down with Amy. Of course, Sophia kept on screaming.
“What happened?” Amy asked.
“I took away all of her magic—her friends, her silkies, even her pacifier. And she’s still screaming.”
“Well,” replied Amy, “let’s wait a few minutes and see if she settles down.”
Sure enough, a few minutes went by, and we heard no more noise coming out of Sophia’s room. I waited a good long time to make certain that she had fallen asleep before I went into her room. I was going to cover her with a blanket. But when I walked into the room, I saw that the crib was filled with her stuffed animals, all her silkies, and the pacifier was in her mouth.
Amanda had been next door in her own room when all of this was going on. And when I left for the last time, she had apparently gone into our room, grabbed all of the magic and brought it in to her little sister. And that’s why Sophia finally calmed down.
The magic was back.
When I get up to the green, I hear that Ernie has put his drive in the fairway bunker on #18. He’s now unlikely to make a birdie. If I can make this putt, I’ll be tied for the lead.
The 16th green sits down in a little bowl and tends to have an amphitheater effect. And when something good happens there, the sound the fans make, the roar, vibrates the entire premises. When Jack Nicklaus and Tom Watson played together here in 1991 (I was an amateur at the time), they both had putts from down on the tier to a top-right pin. Well, they both made their 50-footers with both balls curling into the side of the cup. I was up in the clubhouse at the time and I had never heard such thunderous roars before. The sounds reverberated like flocks of birds flying across the tops of the pine trees. They were continuous, rumbling roars that gradually faded into the distant reaches of the golf course.
With putter in hand, I walk around this hole and look at the break from all different angles.
Sometimes, I help read greens for Phil. But he knows this hole so well that I just went over and stood to the side of the green. At this point, I’m a spectator just like everybody else.
Jim (Bones) Mackay, Phil’s Caddy
This is a great putt to have because I can be aggressive. Before I make my stroke, I get behind the ball and take one last look. I lean my head a little bit to the left—then a little bit to the right. I’m pretty sure this ball will break left six or eight inches.
I remember one day when Philip was in high school. He was sitting in class and staring at the floor. He would move his head and look at a certain spot in different ways. He’d lean left and he’d lean right. Finally, his teacher called him up to the front of the class.
“Philip, you’re not paying attention,” she said. “What are you staring at?”
“Well, ma’am,” he replied, “I’m trying to figure out the break. If I was to roll a golf ball on the floor to that spot over there, I’m trying to figure out which way it would roll.”
Philip would also roll a marble down the aisle when he was in church, just to see which way it would move. And I once saw him roll a golf ball down the aisle of an airplane in flight. “You see, Mom,” he said. “You don’t have to hit it very hard. The momentum of the plane will take it all the way to the back.”
Mary Mickelson
At this point, it was very hard to see the green. People were everywhere. And some of the fans were climbing trees so they could get a good view. There was a man who climbed up this tree behind me. And the marshal came over and told him to get down. “I’m not coming down until Phil putts!” he shouted.
Then the man in the tree looked down at me and said: “You’re Mrs. Mickelson, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Can you see?”
“Well, no. But I don’t want to see.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Mickelson,” he said. “I’ll tell you what happens.”
And the marshal again said: “Get down out of that tree!”
And he said again: “I’m not coming down until Phil putts.”
People were running all over the place, pushing toward the green. At the Masters, you’re not supposed to run. And they advise you how to clap politely. Well, not this day. People were running and yelling and screaming. It was bedlam.
I closed my eyes, held my hands together, and talked to my father. “Dad, where are you? Help him. Please, help him.”
Mary Mickelson
As I step up to the ball, everyone gets very quiet. You can hear birds chirping as I make my stroke. I hit it with a lot of pace. And people start yelling, “Get in the hole! Get in the hole!” But I don’t hear them.
The putt goes directly into the center of the hole. Birdie!
I pump my fist. “Oh, baby!” I say. “Wow!”
And then I notice the roar. The ground vibrates and surges into my body! What a feeling!
I heard the huge roar and I looked up at the man in the tree. “He birdied it! He birdied it!” he shouted. Then he jumped down out of the tree and took off running toward the 17th hole, yelling: “He’s gonna do it! He’s gonna do it!”
Mary Mickelson
After Phil birdied #14, I grabbed the kids and drove to the golf course. We were in the parking lot walking to the clubhouse when I heard the roar. “That was an eagle roar,” I thought to myself. I knew something magical was happening. I just hoped it was Phil.
Renee McBride
To say that I’m pumped up is an understatement. I have finally caught Ernie. Tied with two holes to go.
Now it’s time to win.
After Phil made that putt, he came over to me and gave me a nudge. “Let’s get one more, Bones,” he said. He had this unbelievable look in his eye. I just knew he was going to do it.
Jim (Bones) Mackay, Phil’s Caddy
PLAYER
SCORE
HOLE
Els
-8
17
Mickelson
-8
16
Choi
-6
17
DiMarco
-4
16
Langer
-4
16
17
Nandina
Par 4
425 Yards
For these last two holes, I know I really need to find the fa
irway on my drives. Here on the 17th, I definitely do not want to be right in the trees with a bad angle to the pin. So I’m going to take my driver, aim down the right side, and hit a high fade. This will be very similar to the tee shots I hit at #1, #9, and #14 earlier in the day.
Again, I rip this shot just as hard as I can. It sails past the Eisenhower tree—which is 195 yards out and named for President Dwight D. Eisenhower because he always hit behind it and never had a shot to the green. The ball goes about 310 yards, lands safely in the fairway, and leaves me a pitching wedge to the green.
Perfect. Just where I want to be.
About this time, we heard this tremendous roar coming from the direction of the 18th green and we thought Ernie had birdied the hole. So we asked one of the marshals what had happened and he said: “Oh, they just posted Phil’s birdie at #16 and they’re cheering for him.”
Amy Mickelson
As I’m walking down the 17th fairway, everybody’s rushing forward to get a good view. I can sense all the commotion and excitement and am flattered to feel such support. But I still don’t completely understand why people feel the way they do about me.
When I was still a single guy, I used to eat breakfast at this little waffle house down the road from my place. I’d go there five days a week, grab a newspaper, and eat. After a while, all the waitresses got to know me.
One weekend, Phil was staying with me before a golf tournament and we went down to the waffle house to eat. When I walked in, everybody said, “Hi, Jim. How’re you doing?” “Fine,” I said. I introduced Phil to everybody and we had a nice breakfast.
Phil picked up the check that morning (which was about $12). As we walked out of the place, our waitress started running after us. “Phil, you made a mistake,” she said, ready to give back his hundred-dollar bill. “No, that’s your tip,” he said.
Well, after that, when I’d go down to the waffle house, it was never, “Hey, how’re you doing, Jim?” Rather, it was always, “Where’s Phil?” “When is Phil coming back?”
I asked Phil one time why he gives those big tips to kids and to waiters in restaurants. “Because they work hard for a living,” he said. “They don’t make much and they don’t expect much, either. I make a great living and I can afford to do it. I also like to do it. It’s especially nice to see a kid’s eyes brighten up. It’s fun for me. I like to make people happy.’”
Jim (Bones) Mackay, Phil’s Caddy
My wife, Linda, and I had been married twenty-four years. I casually happened to mention to Phil that we were thinking about renewing our wedding vows on our 25th anniversary.
A month before that anniversary, Phil and Amy invited us to fly down to Mexico with them for a few days. When we got down there, we found that they had arranged for all of our family and closest friends to fly in. And they had planned this beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime wedding ceremony for us. It was a complete and total surprise—one of the most moving experiences of my life.
Whenever people ask me what kind of people Phil and Amy Mickelson are, I tell them that story.
Coach Steve Loy, Phil’s Business Manager
For my approach shot, I’m thinking that I just need to make one birdie—just one. But I simply cannot miss this ball to the right because that’s the only place where the ball will catch the edge and funnel off the right side of the green. So I aim just a few feet left of the pin—and I club down slightly because, with my adrenaline flowing like it is, I don’t want to be long.
My swing feels very good and I think this ball is going to land perfectly. However, it flies slightly longer than I want it to, takes a huge bounce, and rolls 35 feet past the pin and stops on the high part of the green. “Uh, oh,” I think. “It’s lightning fast from up there.”
Years ago, Ben Crenshaw showed me how fast this putt really is. He also pointed out to me how it breaks to the left instead of to the right like a lot of people think. Now I’m thinking that I just need to two-putt this, make par, and then go to #18 and make my birdie there.
Once again, as I stand over the ball, the crowd suddenly gets very quiet. All you can hear are the birds chirping in the trees. I aim about three feet to the right of the cup and just barely tap this ball. It rolls and rolls and rolls. When it is six feet out, I think it’s going to go in. But it suddenly loses speed, falls off slightly to the left, and stops two feet by the hole.
It’s within my circle, but I don’t take it for granted. I knock it in for par.
Walking up to the 18th tee, I see that Ernie has made par and completed his round.
Okay. I’m tied for the lead with one hole to go.
Now it’s just the golf course and me—just like when I was a kid.
PLAYER
SCORE
HOLE
Els
-8
18
Mickelson
-8
17
Choi
-6
18
DiMarco
-4
17
Langer
-4
18
18
Holly
Par 4
465 yards
Dogleg Right
This final hole at Augusta National is the second most difficult on the course. And there are reasons for that. First, it’s almost all uphill. Second, there are two fairway bunkers on the left side about 300 yards out (at the elbow of the dogleg). Third, you have to drive through a very narrow chute of trees. Clearly, the most critical shot on #18 is the tee shot. If you hit it in the trees right or left, you’re going to be fighting for par. But if you drive it in the fairway, you’ll be thinking birdie. Today, the pin is in the lower left portion of the green—and that is a great placement.
Rather than hit a driver, I pull out my 3-wood to get a little more accuracy and to be certain the ball doesn’t reach the fairway bunkers. And I’ve also been hitting this club well all week long.
Using the 3-wood was a very smart shot. Very smart. Phil is a much better player now than he used to be—not because he hits better shots, but because he doesn’t hit as many bad shots. He’s hitting smarter shots. He’s not going to beat himself as much as he used to.
Dave Pelz
I tee the ball up on the left side and just rip it as hard as I can. The ball goes 303 yards and lands right in the middle of the fairway. Nice.
That tee shot was one of the greatest shots I’ve ever seen Phil hit. Such a good shot, such a good swing. That ball went so far, it actually stopped a couple of yards past the fairway bunkers.
Coach Steve Loy?
My approach shot is going to be all uphill to a two-tiered green that slopes from back to front. It’s guarded by two front bunkers, one short left and one right. When I get up to the ball, I have to wait a few minutes for Bernhard Langer and Paul Casey to finish putting. I have plenty of time to think about this shot, so Bones and I discuss it in some detail.
It’s 162 yards to the pin. Behind the pin, there’s a little catch basin that will funnel the ball toward the hole. I have a huge margin of error. I want to hit a shot just to the right of the hole so as to catch that basin and let the ball funnel back down to the pin. I know it’s a quick putt down the hill from there—but it levels off right near the cup, so there’s no real threat of running it five feet by and three-putting. I’ve seen a lot of guys make that putt to win by one or two strokes. Vijay Singh, Mark O’Meara, and Tiger Woods all did it. Bones and I both agree on club selection. It’ll be a full 8-iron.
I’m thinking I’d much rather win the tournament right here and avoid a playoff. So I let “Old Phil” step up to the ball and go for the pin. My swing feels good. The ball fades a little like I want it to. It lands six feet right of the hole, catches the basin, and stops 18 feet away from the pin. Perfect!
The walk up to the 18th green on Sunday at the Masters is a big moment for a golfer. All the spectators have gathered fro
m all over the course. We’re in the last group and there’s no one else playing golf at Augusta National.
The fairway is long and uphill. People are lined up ten to fifteen deep on both sides. As I start my walk, they’re all applauding and cheering. It’s an impressive sight and a wonderful moment.
When I saw my son walking up the 18th fairway, I thought back to when he was nine years old and had called me out of the kitchen on Masters Sunday.
“You see, Mom,” he said, “one day that’s going to be me—and they’re going to be clapping and yelling for me! I’m going to win the Masters and be walking up to the 18th green just like that!”
Mary Mickelson,
I look into the crowd and see the faces of many people who are at Augusta year in and year out. It just makes me feel great—and all I can think of is to just enjoy the moment. Just enjoy it. So as I head up the hill, I smile and nod, thank you. I smile and nod.
While I was replacing the divot, Phil got about 30 yards in front of me. Standing there watching him walk up to the 18th green, I noticed that it’s much more uphill than you think. The green sits way up on top of a hill.
One Magical Sunday Page 15