I have to confess that I haven't been as excited about this Tiger Woods-Phil Mickelson $9 million match as I probably should have been since it was announced earlier this year. The entire thing seemed a little bit contrived and a lot bit forced, especially after we found out that Woods and Mickelson set up a joint company to funnel in the cash. It feels like a money grab from two people who might have more than all the people who will pay to watch them compete ... combined. It is the rich getting richer personified, which is not different than any other entertainment event. It just feels more raw and less shrouded than normal.
Maybe that's what I haven't loved about it. Maybe I have talked myself into the facade that sports and entertainment are something other than millionaires making more millions while the rest of schmucks gleefully pay our hard-earned American dollars toward that end. Maybe that doesn't even matter.
Whatever the case, I've been reticent from completely plunging head first into the Woods-Mickelson Thanksgiving waters. I will probably remain so through the first part of the week and into Thanksgiving Day, and then on Friday morning there will be a moment where I talk myself into the event and what could happen if everything breaks just right on Friday at Shadow Creek in Las Vegas.
Forget about the money. Forget about the winner. Forget about the side bets. Forget about all of that. What I'm here for, and I think what a lot of people will be there for on Friday, is a moment. Maybe two. Maybe three. But at least one that makes you say, "Oh yeah, that's why I paid $19.99 for this." I don't know if there will be one, but there could be, which as of right now on Monday is as good as we can do.
I was reminded of this by something Kevin Van Valkenburg wrote this week about Lefty.
I'm a sucker for anything that might be good theater, and when Phil Mickelson is involved, the potential for jaw-dropping absurdity (both good and bad) is considerably high. I honestly think Phil is one of the greatest "characters" in sports history. He's like a combination of Babe Ruth, Walter Hagen and JR Smith.
Somehow an Eddie Haskel jock became a swashbuckling hustler capable of both greatness and gaffes. Obviously, Tiger is the real draw here, but Phil is the one who could make it memorable, either by somehow playing his ass off or by intentionally ricocheting a shot off a waterfall and onto the green. I think he, more than Tiger, understands that this kind of exhibition is a chance to be a showman. I think he's so bored with regular golf at this point, he creates chaos just to feel alive and see if he can wiggle his way out of it.
There is a good chance this whole thing could be boring, but if it's memorable, I bet we have Phil to thank, even if all he does is push Tiger to do something amazing.
That's phenomenally well said, and it might also be true. I'm not convinced Tiger can ever be anything other than a robot with a Nike hat on when the camera lights turn red, but the opposite is true of Mickelson. The persona is real, and it gets even bigger on the biggest stage. An exhibition match in November might not be seem like the biggest stage, but Mickelson probably doesn't see it like that. Instead, he sees six figures' worth of people tuning in to watch him play golf with millions on the line. That is his biggest stage.
Mickelson has always been as big of a fan of the game as he is the sport, and this is the perfect intersection of those two things for him. Van Valkenburg is right. If this is memorable, it will because of what Mickelson did, either for himself or for Woods.
So while I still don't expect elite golf, I'm not sure I ever should have. Playing 18 holes of match play in a made-for-TV event precludes you from playing your best golf, whether you're in your prime or well outside of it. There is no rhythm, no pace and no vision. You're just hitting these singular shots and jawing at your opponent at every turn. It ... might be what Mickelson is best at.
For some reason this week I've been thinking about that Callaway commercial where Lefty knocks on your TV screen and flashes his goofy grin before saying, "I can do anything with this ball." He might be nearing 50, but I still believe that. The question this week is two-fold. Will he do anything with this ball, and will that do anything with my emotions or my mind as I consume what should be a fascinating 3-4 hours of golf on Friday afternoon from Las Vegas.