To Infamy And Beyond

History is written by the victors. - Winston Churchill

Josh Berow revisits the infamous Gleneagles press conference in which Phil Mickelson took control of our Ryder Cup teams for the foreseeable future, defenestrated Captain Tom Watson and made the world safe for pods.  A performance that I found vile in all respects....

Before we get the meat of my multi-count indictment, lets join Josh in setting the table for that Sunday fiasco:

On Saturday night of the 2014 Ryder Cup, American players huddled in a team room at Gleneagles Hotel in Auchterarder, Scotland. Tom Watson spoke. So did Phil Mickelson.

Through sources in the room, an ESPN report would later describe it as a tense and uncomfortable gathering, and it would become the preamble to one of the most bizarre Ryder Cup Sundays in history. Down 10-6 to the Europeans after a disappointing afternoon session, the U.S. needed to rally in Sunday singles to win for the first time since their 2008 triumph at Valhalla, and for just the third time in the last 10 meetings. Watson, the team’s temperamental leader, was brought back as a 65-year-old captain to rekindle his magic on European soil. He was the captain the last time the U.S. won an away match, in 1993 at the Belfry. But on this night he wasn’t in the mood for his customary captain’s gift, a replica Ryder Cup trophy signed by the team. He said he wanted the real one. One source told ESPN, “He said it basically means nothing to me.” Watson’s pep talk was more of a scolding. The whole ordeal left the room sour—Mickelson included.

Now, I have no interest in relitigating these issues, but that quote topping the post might apply here.  This and other alleged quotes from Watson can be interpreted in widely disparate manners, based upon the tone used.  I could see it being Tom's way of trying to motivate his team by reminding them that the real cup was still withing their reach, though you'll no doubt agree that this bit is spit-out-your-drink funny:

KEEGAN BRADLEY, U.S. TEAM  MEMBER: I remember it being different than Medinah [in 2012]. Medinah was such a fun atmosphere, and this was different. It could have been because we were getting our asses kicked. But it was a much different vibe, and we knew that going in; this wasn’t going to be like these other teams. [Watson] was going to come in, be a different captain. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

Because that worked out so well, Keegs?   I don't think Keegan is trying to be unfair here, but more's the pity, since he doesn't seem to understand that Medinah inevitably led to Watson.

Additional cutlery for the table:

To understand the nature of the tension that was mounting, and the mess that eventually spilled out very publicly in the infamous 2014 Ryder Cup press conference, you’ve first got to understand a bit about captain Watson, the team’s inspirational leader Mickelson, and their testy relationship. Golf Channel insider Tim Rosaforte reported that Mickelson wanted early on to be a part of the Ryder Cup decision-making process, but calls to Watson months before the event went unreturned. Ted Bishop, the PGA of America president at the time, said he thinks it’s “highly doubtful” that Watson wouldn’t have returned Mickelson’s calls. Bishop, however, said he believes Mickelson was irked when Watson said publicly that Tiger Woods, if healthy, would be a captain’s pick. Mickelson never received such public reassurances but eventually auto-qualified regardless.

Ya got that?  Phil wasn't even guaranteed to be on the team, but he had a right to demand the captain's attention months ahead of the event.  But you know the chalice was poisoned long before they got to Scotland.

And this last key bit, that I'll ask you to keep in mind:

BISHOP: The first day at Gleneagles, Mickelson and Bradley are playing a par 3, and

Phil comes up to Tom and he says, “Captain, I just want you to know as it relates to the pairings this afternoon, that in the last five years of international team competition, I have only missed five fairways.” Of course, he was lobbying for he and Keegan to play in the afternoon. And they won their match, and obviously Tom plays him in the afternoon. They go out, and they’re just getting hammered. Watson walked up to them on the ninth and he’s got his arms crossed and he looks up at Bradley and Mickelson and he says, “Well, I just have one question. When are one of you guys gonna hit a fairway?” And just walked away. And those guys—they just got pounded. 

Friday night’s loss — a 3-and-2 drubbing courtesy of Victor Dubuisson and Graeme McDowell — led to Watson benching Mickelson and Bradley on Saturday morning. They sat again for their weakest format, alternate shot, that afternoon. It was the first time Mickelson had sat for an entire day in his Ryder Cup career. Prior to the benching, Mickelson and Bradley were 4-1 as a team in Ryder Cup play (and 2-1-1 at the Presidents Cup).

I'll remind that they had played pretty poorly in the morning fourball match, and were lucky to win it.  But they appealed to the Captain to play the afternoon session, and then proceeded to stink up the joint.  I'm not  fan of or an apologist for Watson's behavior as recounted by Ted Bishop, but they got what they asked for and didn't deliver.

So, let's briefly recount Phil's comments at that presser:

Eight questions had been asked and less than nine minutes passed before the camera turned to Mickelson on the evening of Sept. 28, 2014, at Gleneagles. With his teammates spread out to his left on the dais, and captain Watson sitting a mere dozen feet away,

Mickelson was about to change the course of the U.S. Ryder Cup forever. 

“Phil, and anyone else who was at Valhalla,” a reporter started, “can you put your finger on what worked in 2008 and what hasn’t worked since?” 

Mickelson paused, then spoke carefully for two minutes, although if felt like an eternity. (The body language of Hunter Mahan, who was sitting next to Mickelson, proved as much.) While he never looked in his direction nor mentioned Watson by name, 

Mickelson’s glowing praise of Paul Azinger, who’d lead the Americans to victory six years earlier at Valhalla, spoke volumes. “He got everybody invested in the process…. We were all invested in each other’s play…. We had a real game plan,” he said, before finishing. “Unfortunately, we have strayed from a winning formula in 2008 for the last three Ryder Cups, and we need to consider maybe getting back to that formula that helped us play our best.”

And this little gem:

Twenty-three more questions were asked that night. Mickelson answered 10 of them. He refused to admit that he was taking a jab at Watson or his leadership style. “I’m sorry you’re taking it that way,” he told a reporter. But his most damning six words were these: “Nobody here was in any decision.”

On Friday he used his position as the elder statesmen to get Watson to change his plans and play them in alternate shot, but by Sunday he had no input into any of the decisions made.  And Josh has both elements in his story, yet fails to highlight the rather outrageous lie that Phil told.

Let me digress for a second and note that I always thought that Tom Watson would be an awkward fit for the rather coddled modern player.  And there are plenty of quotes from folks such as Zach Johnson that confirm that rather obvious insight, though without the obvious animus of Phil. 

So why do I find Phil's comments so odious that I'm still over-reacting four years hence?  Because:

1. It was the wrong time and venue;
2. The wrong message;
3. The wrong messenger.  

1. This all came down in the post-match press conference, when the range of acceptable comments runs approximately from "They played great" to, well, "They played great".  Not only is it pretty bad sportsmanship, but it creates an unbelievably tense environment for all involved.  Anyone not buying this should watch Hunter Mahan's body language, no doubt he regretted his choice of seat.

2.  Reread Phil's comments and you'll see that they essentially distill to a plea to be treated like delicate flowers with the team room functioning as their safe space.  We can't possibly play well if we don't have our pods or ping pong table, and a captain to dole out the participation ribbons.  

3.  Phil's Ryder Cup record is 18-20-7, though as he sat behind the dais in Auchterarder it was 16-19-6.  If he wants to know why they got saddled with their grandfather as a coach, perhaps he should consult the nearest mirror?

Watson chose to not defend himself, either at the presser or in the aftermath, though this from the presser is basically his defense:

Watson, sitting silently, was asked to respond to what Mickelson said of Azinger. “I had a different philosophy as far as being a captain of this team,” he said. “You know, it takes 12 players to win. It’s not pods. It’s 12 players.”

Yeah.  

Josh's piece is rife with triumphalism, that the Ryder Cup Task Force Committee Supreme Soviet has changed our fortunes, and the proof of this is.... well, Hazeltine.  I tend towards the cynical, but aren't we supposed to win the home games, especially against a cyclically weak European squad?

I know, it's a process....  I guess I'm happy for Davis Love that he somehow didn't get tarred with the Medinah Meltdown?  Like most, I'm not sure exactly what he did wrong, though don't we have to conclude that the guys weren't ready for Sunday?  

I don't have a big problem with those measures implement by Phil's cabal, but that's mostly because that which they've done is comically small ball.  Pushing the picks a few weeks later?  Although, even there I think it's been over-thought, and delaying that last pick is more trouble than it's worth.  

Now I can see what it's done for Phil....  Talk about your win-win, it allowed for his retribution against the mean Tom Watson, but also distracted from his own performance issues.   As important, he didn't really have to sweat bullets over his selection as a captain's pick, did he?

It was a temper tantrum masquerading as insight, and it galls me that the golf world has seemingly drunk the Kool-Aid.  While I think the changes are utterly insignificant, I'd have been happy for Phil to make his case to the PGA of America, his peers and the public at a more appropriate time.  But I hate to see petulance rewarded, especially such a self-serving portion.

Now let's see how this wonderful process performs under more exacting conditions, against a stronger Euro team in a road game.  I understand Phil's appeal in a broader sense, and I share more of it than you might intuit.  But this was one of his bad moments, and nothing that happens subsequently will change my assessment.