Mickelson's a Lovable Loser Until He Changes Approach - Phil Mickelson, golfer - Column

Byline: Leonard Shapiro

CHASKA, Minn. -- It's time.

Now is the time for Phil Mickelson to end the questions and finally eliminate the acronym BPNTWAM from his name, as in best player never to win a major.

Lefty can do it this week in the PGA Championship, a tournament he almost won a year ago before David Toms walked away with the trophy at the Atlanta Athletic Club. He has almost won quite a few majors, but as we like to say in our household, almost only counts in horseshoes.

In the Mickelson household, all would seem to be well with the world. Mickelson seemingly has it all -- an adoring and charming wife, a precocious toddler, a big house in Arizona, his own jet plane and enough money in the bank to assure a more than prosperous life for one and all.

The only thing missing is a piece of hardware from one of the game's four biggest tournaments. He's collected many other nice trinkets, including hardware from the Ryder and Presidents cups, but until he wins a huge one, his career can never be complete, despite his frequently uttered pre- and post-tournament comments to the contrary.

Mickelson's most recent major (and maddening) statement came after last month's British Open, where he was never in contention and eventually finished tied for 66th. Before flying back home, he insisted he was not all that disappointed, and in fact, had a jolly good time playing Muirfield, despite treacherous conditions on Saturday when he posted 76.

Maybe he really did have a fun week off the Firth of Forth. If that was truly the case, however, he might want to study the losing habits of the athletes he is often said to gamble big money on at Las Vegas casinos. I was reminded of that most vividly only 10 days ago, when I attended the Pro Football Hall of Fame ceremonies in Canton, Ohio, that included the induction of former Redskins Coach George Allen.

It was Allen who once said "losing is like death." And I can tell you from first-hand experience covering his Washington teams in the 1970s, he certainly acted the part.

His wife and his children, and especially his players, wanted no part of George if they happened to lose on Sunday. The only thing that would wipe the scowl off his face was a victory seven days later. He had plenty of those, but he often said the losses were often almost too much to bear.

Publicly, at least, Mickelson shows none of the above symptoms. He presents a smiling face to the world when it's over, and with that still boyish face and aw-shucks demeanor, he's actually become a beloved underdog among American golf fans, despite his princely riches.

This week at Hazeltine, on the longest major championship venue of the year at 7,360 yards, Mickelson should be very much in the hunt on the weekend. Only John Daly, Woods and David Duval may be a touch longer, but measure that in feet, not yards.

People who played Hazeltine at the 1991 U.S. Open, won by Payne Stewart in a playoff over Scott Simpson, say it may be the fairest major championship course in America, even if it is now the longest.

It's a straightforward test, and in drought conditions in the Midwest fairways should add enough roll for everyone to bop the ball 300 yards or more off the tee. Wind also is expected to be in the equation once play begins, and the longer you can hit it off the tee in those conditions, the better your chances.

Mickelson must also force himself not to take his go-for-broke style approach this week. He has said in the past that he doesn't enjoy a non-gambling approach to the game, buut the pleasure he will gain from winning his first major should far surpass any joy he might derive from attempting a knucklehead play with a 25 percent chance of succeeding.

As always, of course, Mickelson likely will have to go through one Tiger Woods to call the Wanamaker Trophy his very own. Woods came back out on Tour last week in Michigan to please his sponsors at Buick and to hone his game for Hazeltine. Despite a nondescript final round of 72, including a double bogey, he managed to blow away the field by four shots.

When last seen, Mickelson was making a double himself on the final hole at the Buick, not a great sign for a man who ought to be getting a little desperate to break through in a major. Then again, maybe that double will be the last of it for a while for Mickelson. He starts off with a new slate on Thursday, and it's time to start writing his name, followed by "2002 PGA champion."

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