Phil owns the Big Apple

Being both a writer and lover of golf, there has always been a good number of questions I found perplexing. Why do they call them woods when they’re now made out of everything but wood? Why does a 5-iron go farther than an 8-iron? Shouldn’t that be the other way? Why call it a fairway if it’s anything but fair and there’s no way my ball is going to wind up there? And exactly why did Tiger Woods try to dye what little hair he has left blonde a while back?
But these quandaries are nothing compared to the big one this week here at the U.S. Open at Winged Foot? Why do the supposedly tough New York crowds worship Phil Mickelson so?
Now don’t get me wrong, I like Phil, too. I’ve interviewed him a time or two and he’s been terrific. But the way these people are up here, it’s amazing.
As if the endless cries of “Let’s go Phil!’’ and “C’mon Mickelson!’’ aren’t enough. At one hole earlier this week, I saw a 50-ish woman squeal “Hey Phil, Jenny from Albany loves you!’’
But wait it gets worse. Once the New York crowds see your media badge, they start peppering you with all-things-Mickelson questions. “How’s Phil doing?’’ or “Why aren’t you following, Phil?’’ and the ever-popular “Don’t you think Phil’s gonna do it?’’
And Mickelson, always an emotional sort, has fed off this karma winning last year’s PGA at nearby Baltusrol in New Jersey and with second-place finishes at the 2002 U.S. Open at Bethpage Black and the 2004 Open at Shinnecock Hills.
Phil seems determined to tip his hat to every comment from the adoring gallery. And when asked why a guy who grew up in California, went to Arizona State, has more cash than any of us could ever dream of spending (he got in on the ground floor of e-Bay 10 years ago) along with the requisite beautiful wife and kids is so loved by Joe from Brooklyn or Pete from Yonkers, Mickelson breaks into his best Eddie Haskell-answer of how this is such a great place, the fans support the game and he owes them this and that. Spare me.
Mickelson’s a nice guy, but certainly no nicer than Jim Furyk, Peter Jacobsen, Nick Price or many other PGA pros that New York doesn’t throw itself at quicker than a 20-something New York model seeing Donald Trump walking down Broadway.
So if Mickelson can somehow tame Winged Foot and make up ground this weekend to win his first U.S. Open, look for a massive ticker-tape parade down 5th Ave. As Sinatra sang of the Big Apple “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere.’’