A winner in every way but one

That’s the word Phil Mickelson used — and it’s as good as any — to describe what he called “very possibly” his most difficult loss. In US Open history, he’s the symbol of the near miss, right down to the way his putts rimmed the cup again and again on Sunday in a final-round 74 to finish two shots back. Mickelson, always in second place.

Yet in golf lore, he’s something else completely.

There’s no rhyme or reason to how Mickelson lost the US Open — again. It felt all day like greater forces were propelling him to win. And still somehow fate didn’t line up. The putts he so beautifully traced all week danced by holes, around holes, and ultimately away from holes. The dagger was on 16, when Mickelson stood up on a plateau where he could see the championship green at 18, and he pushed a par putt ever so slightly out to his left.

“That’s it,” one official said quietly.

How could he say that? This was supposed to be Mickelson’s day, Father’s Day, his 43rd birthday. Fans serenaded him on every single hole.

“I think I heard ‘Happy Birthday’ 18 times today,” said playing partner Hunter Mahan. “Hopefully I don’t wake up tonight screaming Happy Birthday.”

There was still hope, though, even after all those missed putts. Mickelson needed a birdie to tie Rose at either 17 or 18, and damned if those fans weren’t ready to burst out from the ropeline, grab Lefty’s golf ball and slam it into the hole. Mahan’s a popular guy on Tour and with fans, but it was as if he wasn’t even there. Tiger Woods has huge crowds and din wherever he goes, but this was a different noise. This was urgent, pleading noise. This was almost alarming.

But Mickelson had no more magic. He missed a long putt on 17, pulled his drive on 18, and couldn’t hit the green with his Bubba-Watson-at-the-Masters shot from the trees. All he had left was that impossible chip, made to seem so possible by thousands of friends who had never before been within 100 feet of him.

It wasn’t to be.

Moments later, after the mob had thinned and the remaining sunlight ebbed, Mahan spoke about his friend.

“He’s a great leader,” he said, “and being in golf you don’t hear that word very often as a leader. But he’s really a leader in the game and he takes his time out to talk to the young guys... He really relishes that role and enjoys it. He’s a great guy to admire.”

That, in a way, allows what happened to Mickelson on Sunday to make a little bit more cosmic sense. Anyone can show people how to win, but how can someone lead in losing?

After Mahan was finished answering questions, Mickelson approached the microphone with his usual Phil gait and his usual Phil smile. If any golfer ever had an excuse to clam up, it was Mickelson. How many athletes simply vanish without a word?

Yet all the answers spilled forth.

“I should have made bogeys on those holes and I let them become doubles...”

“Thirteen and 15 were the two bad shots of the day that I’ll look back on where I let it go…”

“I think this was my best chance…”

“This one’s probably the toughest for me, because at 43 and coming so close five times, it would have changed the way I look at this tournament altogether, and the way I would have looked at my record. Except I just keep feeling heartbreak...”

“If I had won today or if I ultimately win, I’ll look back at the other (US) Opens and think that it was a positive. If I never get the (US) Open, then I’ll look back and I think that, every time I think of the US Open, I’ll just think of heartbreak.”

So many people around the country wanted Father’s Day to be Phil’s Day. Yet fatherhood really isn’t about winning anything. It’s about guiding younger people to be better. It’s about acting in a way you would want the next generation to act.

After answering all the questions, the second-place finisher walked slowly back to the scorer’s trailer.

His eldest daughter, Amanda, born the day after his first US Open heartbreak in 1999, wasn’t there. She had strep throat. His wife, Amy, who hugged him after his most recent Major championship, was home with Amanda and another child who wasn’t feeling well.

Mickelson was greeted on his way by Jill McNeil, a woman who lives on the course. Her property was taken over by the USGA starting back in April. McNeil could look out her back window this week and see generators and trucks and enough wires to trip an army.

McNeil walked up to Mickelson, grabbed his hand and said: “I just want to say it’s an honour to have you walk on my driveway.”

Mickelson looked her straight in the eye and smiled.

“Thanks,” he said, “for all you do.”

And away went Phil Mickelson (US) the US Open’s all-time runner up, and the sport’s truest champion.