Colin Sheridan: Phil Mickelson winning at 50 is cool, but no more than that

Phil and Tom Brady occupy a parallel universe. It is one of avocado toast, live-in personal trainers, and Honduran coffee diets. Their privilege may be earned, and for that they should be admired, but where’s the story?

Phil Mickelson celebrates winning the PGA Championship at Kiawah Island. (AP Photo/David J. Phillip)

One of the forgotten casualties of this pandemic is not the suppin’ of soft pints on a muggy Saturday evening. A casualty sure, but one with a lobby louder than Big Pharma, so, hardly a forgotten one.

No, dwell not on the act, but the environment; the little things around the margins. The dust dancing on the slivers of impossible light pouring in through your favourite window. The pint settling in the glass. A fire on in summer. Turf burning. A race from Uttoxeter on a barely audible TV in the corner, as a Clancy Brothers tune hangs softly in the air like a drunkard’s lullaby. A bag of King crisps split down the middle between two grown men who, in other circumstances, wouldn’t consent to sharing so much as a car to a match.