An old adage—often wrongly attributed to Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War”—holds that if you wait by the riverbank long enough, the bodies of your enemies will eventually float by. That’s as good a metaphor as any for how some golf industry executives must have felt in the wake of recent comments by Phil Mickelson that incinerated his reputation, alienated most every constituency in the game, exposed him to disciplinary action, and otherwise cast him in a light so unflatteringly amoral that even Greg Norman might hesitate to be seen in his company.
In a November interview with writer Alan Shipnuck that was only made public this week, Mickelson betrayed the traits that have frequently led him into choppy waters: a beguiling mix of arrogance and obtuseness. He confirmed what was widely known—that he’s an advocate for the Saudi-backed Super Golf League—and breezily admitted his willingness to overlook the regime’s abuses simply for a chance to force concessions from the PGA Tour that would further enrich him.
Unable to forgo an opportunity to boast of his strategic genius, Mickelson affirmed with callous indifference the approach shared by his fellow travelers in the locker room, most of whom have not yet been flushed from the shadows. But the comment that holed him below the waterline was an admission that he and other as-yet-unnamed players paid for lawyers to draft the breakaway tour’s operating agreement.
