US Masters: A Nation Rejoices As the Nearly Man Gets His Jacket

He was in the biggest fight of his life, but nothing could stop him smiling. As he fought his way around the final holes in the US Masters yesterday, struggling to win the major tournament so long denied him, Phil Mickelson felt nothing less than the warmth of a nation's love, or at least that proportion of it represented by the 35,000 or so patrons at Augusta National.

The pandemonium was terrific, perhaps even unprecedented within the precincts of this tradition-bound tournament. Mickelson is America's sweetheart, the son every apple-pie mom wishes she had, every cheerleader's dream date, and the player every weekend golfer would like to be. All that he lacked in his life, until yesterday, was victory in a major tournament.

It is 14 years since Mickelson made his first appearance in a major, in the US Open. The 20-year-old amateur finished in a tie for 29th place. Three years later, in his second year as a professional, he tied for sixth in the PGA championship. A year later he finished third in the same tournament, and it seemed only a matter of time before one of the big four titles would fall into the lap of this stylish left-hander.

But the years went by without reward, and his lack of success became a talking point, particularly after he fell under the shadow of the emerging Tiger Woods. The near misses mounted up. Third in the 1996 Masters, eighth in that year's PGA, 10th in the 1998 US Open, second in the same event the following year, seventh in the 2000 Masters, third at Augusta a year later, second in the 2001 PGA, third in the Masters and second in the US Open in 2002, third in the Masters last year.

No one compiles such a record without being accused of softness at best, choking at worst. But Mickelson's form of choking was not the usual kind of tightening up caused by mounting terror in the face of impending triumph. Mickelson lost because he had no idea of how to preserve a lead. When he had opened a margin, he would keep on attacking. And it cost him, time and again. After 46 failures, it seemed as though he would be the "eternal second", the Raymond Poulidor to Woods's Jacques Anquetil.

Even his playing partner, who had started the day in head to head opposition with Mickelson, wanted the 33-year-old to win. You could see that from the way Chris DiMarco purposely hit his putt long on the 18th green, enabling Mickelson to take a reading on his own stroke. That unexpected gift made Mickelson's smile even wider.

Mickelson's battle with Ernie Els was fought at long range, since Els was marching two groups ahead of the American. Around the course the eyes of the spectators swivelled constantly from course to scoreboard as the numbers went up in a wonderfully tense and suspenseful final round. Even from such a partisan gallery, the big South African's efforts received due appreciation.

Two eagles during the final round had enabled Els to take the lead after Mickelson faltered early in the front nine. Once again, it seemed, the American was proving to be unsafe in possession of a lead, incapable of holding on to an advantage, lacking the moral fibre needed to win from the front.

Perhaps he does find it hard to be repel attacks from those behind him on the leaderboard. But after Els had vaulted over him, he set off on his own relentless chase. After a faltering front nine in which he dropped shots on the third, fifth and sixth holes, he set his jaw and joined battle.

All around the course there were outbursts of excitement greeting Els's eagles, two holes in one at the 16th by Padraig Harrington and Kirk Triplett, and K.J.Choi's eagle at the 11th. But the eye was constantly drawn to the battle between Els and Mickelson.

Not until the 12th hole did Mickelson's efforts bear tangible fruit, with a 10ft birdie putt applauded to the echo by the fans lining Amen Corner. Thereafter there were birdies at the 13th, 14th, 16th and 18th as his assault gathered pace and intensity. When his long eagle putt at the 13th rolled past the hole, giving him a two-footer for the birdie, he shared the momentary anguish of the crowd but made it clear he was seeing the world only in positive terms.

At this stage it was as though Tim Henman had made it to the fifth set of the men's final at Wimbledon without blowing up. Mickelson is to middle America what Henman is to middle-class England, the epitome of certain symbolic core virtues.

Somewhere up ahead Ernie Els was munching an apple before heading for the putting green, ignoring the growing clamour on the 18th hole and preparing himself for a play-off that would never come. "What are you going to do?" he said later. "Are you going to watch him, or get away from it? I had my chances and he did what he had to do."

Mickelson's unabashed joy was a pleasure to witness. "After such a tough struggle, it feels even better," he said last night.

"I don't know anything that could make us happier than you winning your first major here at Augusta National," Hootie Johnson, chairman of the organising club, said as he called upon Mike Weir, the outgoing champion, to drape the traditional green jacket around his fellow left-hander's shoulders.

"Daddy won," Mickelson told his smallest daughter, his face buried in her corkscrew curls. "Daddy won. Can you believe it?"