Golf: A tale of two Phils

Who was that masked man walking down the 18th fairway at Augusta National tied for the lead and with a putt to win the 2004 Masters?

It looked remarkably like Phil Mickelson.

Physically he could have passed as his twin brother. He had the same gait, hair, he even had the same sponsorships as Mickelson.

But, there was something strangely unfamiliar about this man. He had a look on his face of pure joy. You couldn't wipe the smile away from his face even if you had told him there was no way he was going to make the putt.

This man was brimming with confidence and carried himself like he already knew the outcome of the tournament.

No, this wasn't Phil Mickelson.

The Mickelson everyone knows would have been looking for his ball in the woods or hacking his way out of the thickets.

This guy hit a three wood off the tee to take any hazards out of play.

The Mickelson we know would have found a way to three jack the final green and give another Masters away to someone else.

This guy was fearless making clutch par saves and improbable birdies. This champion made birdy on the 72nd hole to win the Masters.

So who the hell was this guy, and what did he do to our Lefty?

To unravel this mystery we have to look deep inside the psyche of the man who gave the patrons of Augusta National and millions around the world the most exciting Masters in years.

Coming into this year's Masters everyone knew he had the game and talent to win any tournament in the world.

The mental game, however, was in serious question.

Was he pressing too hard? Was he too aggressive sometimes? Was he scared to throw the thousand pound gorilla off his back?

All questions he had to answer four times a year.

But this year was different. Something clicked inside this man's head, a moment of clarity, an epiphany that would allow him to see the where he could take his legacy and career.

When this all happened is another enigma in of itself but know this, there would be no stopping this man's mission.

The time had finally come to test this new vision, and there was no better testing ground than Augusta National in April, where dreams meet reality and hopes are dashed with a single stroke.

The first two rounds were steady. Then came, "moving day," Saturday where he had played himself into the final group.

Everything was going according to his plan. "Don't press, don't play yourself out of contention, you've got the game."

However, it looked like the pressure was finally getting to him.

After dropping strokes in the opening holes it looked like another typical Sunday at a Major.

To add to the cooker, someone named Ernie Els, a three time Major winner, was shooting a career final round. The lead vanished and it was time to play catch-up once again.

Els was relentless. Playing as brilliantly as anyone had seen on Sunday at Augusta. When he finally ran out of holes he posted a superb score of 8 under for the week.

Back and forth they had gone throughout the second nine holes.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to back into a Green Jacket.

He had to win this thing with everything he had -- there was absolutely no margin of error now.

He would have to carry the weight of losing another Major on Sunday for two months if he didn't do something, fast.

The more pressure Els placed the more at ease he seemed to become with his game, as if he was mocking the ghosts of Augusta National.

Amen Corner? Please, just because you put azaleas and a couple of bridges on a hole he is supposed to lay over and give strokes away.

He was unstoppable now, he was going to get to nine under if it had killed him.

72nd hole, a tie for first at nine under par. Birdy, he wins. Par, there is a playoff. Bogey, wait until the US Open.

A three wood striped down the middle broke the silence of the patrons. They could feel it now, this man had throttled Lefty back under Hogan's bridge with a birdy that would begin the best second nine in a Masters.

He was in control now, he was guilty of killing all the pressure, all the expectations, and all the top-three, five, 10 finishes in years past.

A wounded animal is the most dangerous animal and this guy was ailing like never before. If he didn't do it now chances are he would be forever tormented on Sundays.

His second shot rolled just past the hole and left a very makeable birdy putt. His playing partner shot out of the bunker and was away allowing him an almost identical read on his putt.

Now it was his turn, one moment to define an entire career. Millions of fans wishing, praying for gravity to turn his ball into the hole. Everyone had forgotten about Lefty, his memory of choking on Sundays, pulling out the ill-advised driver on a tight hole, and smashing putts ten feet past the hole were things of the past.

A smooth stroke, a good read is all it took to win that 42 regular Green Jacket he coveted oh so much.

If there were any more doubts as to the identity of this man, look no further than the name right next to "2004 Masters Champion."

Case closed.