Phil the Thrill, Phil the Fashionista, Phil the-guy-who-has-everything. Well, he might just trade most all of it for his wife’s good health. Amy Mickelson, Phil’s constant companion (sorry, Bones) for the duration of his professional career, has been diagnosed with breast cancer, the family announced late last week.
In support of Amy, PGA Tour golfers playing Saturday at Colonial, and their wives, are planning to wear pink. Those attending are being encouraged to wear pink. Pinkalicious, I say. Pinknation. Pinkyouverymuch.
Having a five-year-old daughter, I have learned firsthand the transcendent power of pink. As a consciousness-raising statement for preventative health care for women and the ongoing battle against breast cancer, pink is a good start.
In our celebrity-driven, celebrity-obsessed age, causes tend to acquire faces. The higher-profile the celebrity, the more money/attention/research inures to the cause. I’m guessing Amy Mickelson probably didn’t see herself as the face for such noble work, but years walking and basking in reflected limelight may have prepared her well for what’s ahead.
Whether you like him or not — and knowledgeable golf fans seem to fall into one of the two camps – Phil has been more than a great golfer. He’s been a very, very good sportsman and great entertainment. Whether he’s winning or six back, Phil always goes for it, just the way Arnold always did. Except, of course, when he’s off-loading his driver and doubling down on wedges.
In any case, he’s suspended his Tour schedule indefinitely as his wife embarks on a battle — fighting cancer — that too many of us are familiar with, whether it’s through immediate family or friends. Fans will miss Phil; the Tour will miss Amy.
It so happens I readBob Verdi’s excellent interview with Philthe evening before I read news reports of Amy’s diagnosis. As Phil talked about some of his obscure birthday gifts – meteorites and dinosaur heads – it was hard to not come to the conclusion — even Phil did — that these were the trappings of a man who indeed has all the material pleasures money can buy, an individual who truly enjoys the wages he’s earned, even if the pleasure — a la Rosebud — is as simple as driving 30 minutes for an In-N-Out Burger at lunch.
While I assume Phil is pretty much of an open book, Verdi’s Q&A actually told me a few things I hadn’t known that, how shall we say, further humanized him. His father has diabetes, he takes his kids to museums and shows on non-golf trips to New York, his mother worked to support Phil’s ambitious junior golf schedule, his business ideas are far more ambitious than, say, starting a signature apparel line. Verdi clearly has the manner that can put subjects at ease. He’s ingratiating. His questions are those that a consiglieri would pose, as if to help his boss arrive at conclusions that are equally revealing to both interviewer and subject.
Verdi did ask Phil about his relationship with Tiger, but he didn’t probe the depth to which Tiger inhabits or, I believe, at least, once inhabited Phil’s psyche. And while Phil can be an occasional rival to Tiger, I believe he has largely gotten over the idea that he can be an equal to someone who’s playing accomplishments, superb as Phil’s are, are truly otherworldly.
Phil’s obviously grown up, built a family, made a fortune and come to understand that he need make no — okay, a few — apologies for his playing record. The more I’ve seen of him — in press conferences, after not-so-great outcomes or in Verdi’s Q&A — the more funny, mature, empathetic he’s become. The more human. The family health crisis, already playing out in public, is the next adventure for someone who appears well-equipped for the challenge. — Robert Lohrer
