Phil Mickelson has one of the most unusual résumés in modern golf: part masterpiece, part heartbreak, part highlight reel.
He won like a Hall of Famer, played with the imagination of a backyard artist, and spent so many Sundays in the mix that fans started expecting something dramatic—brilliant or disastrous—whenever he was on the screen.
You can argue about where he ranks among the game’s titans, but you can’t argue his footprint. Mickelson won 45 PGA Tour events and six major championships: three Masters (2004, 2006, 2010), two PGA Championships (2005, 2021), and one Open Championship (2013). That’s a career that defines an era.
The career that almost had everything
Mickelson’s legend has a built-in twist: the U.S. Open, the one major that never broke his way. He finished runner-up six times (1999, 2002, 2004, 2006, 2009, 2013). In most sports, “second place” fades. In golf, six runner-ups at the same major becomes part of the identity—especially when several of those U.S. Opens ended with one shot, one swing, one decision you can replay forever.
That tension—majors won and majors that slipped—helps explain why Mickelson remains such a compelling “how good was he?” conversation. The answer is: elite enough to be everywhere, volatile enough to make it unforgettable.
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Phil’s peak: the breakthrough, the prime, and the late-career shockwave
Mickelson’s peak is really two peaks.
Peak No. 1: 2004–2013, when he went from superstar to major killer.
Before 2004, he was the most talented player without a major. Then he finally won the Masters in 2004 and the narrative flipped overnight. From there, the major count stacked: another Masters in 2006, a third in 2010, plus the 2005 PGA Championship and a career-defining Open Championship win at Muirfield in 2013.
This is the stretch that made him more than “Tiger’s contemporary.” Woods was the defining force of the era, but Mickelson was the constant threat—the guy who could take a tournament away from anyone when his driver behaved and his short game got hot.
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Peak No. 2: 2021, when he did the thing you’re not supposed to do at 50.
Mickelson winning the 2021 PGA Championship at Kiawah Island didn’t just add a trophy; it rewrote what fans thought was possible for him at that age. He became the oldest major champion in men’s golf history (50 years, 11 months, 7 days).
It’s hard to overstate how legacy-altering that is. Plenty of legends age gracefully. Very few grab one more major while the next generation is in its prime.
What made him “Phil”: creativity under pressure
Mickelson’s greatness was never only about results. It was about style.
He played golf like a shot-maker first and a strategist second—high bombs over trouble, aggressive lines that didn’t look “safe,” and a short-game imagination that turned disasters into birdie chances. The modern obsession with wedges, spins, and “gettable” birdies owes a lot to the way Phil made scoring feel fun and available, even on hard setups.
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And then there’s the personality. Mickelson was a star who didn’t act like a statue. He talked, he joked, he owned the moment, and he leaned into the risk. That matters in golf, a sport that can drift toward stiffness. Phil permitted fans to enjoy the chaos.
Where Mickelson belongs in golf history
If you’re building a mental map of golf’s modern greats, Mickelson is in the inner circle—just not in the tiny penthouse occupied by the very top names.
Six majors puts him in rare company. The combination of 45 Tour wins and major wins across multiple decades makes him one of the most accomplished golfers of the last 50 years. The missing U.S. Open is the only true hole in the big-picture story, but even that adds texture: those six runner-ups are proof of repeated contention in the most punishing major.
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A clean way to say it: Mickelson is one of the defining champions of the post-1990 era—an all-time great whose career sits just below the sport’s absolute top tier, and whose peak was high enough to beat anybody, anywhere.
His impact on the game today
Mickelson’s influence still shows up in two places: how golfers play, and how the sport talks about itself.
On the course, his legacy is creativity as a weapon—especially around the greens. Every time you hear a broadcast celebrate imagination, nerve, and touch, you’re hearing a language Phil helped popularize.
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Off the course, he remains part of the modern golf conversation because he moved to LIV Golf and captains HyFlyers GC, keeping him visible in the sport’s new ecosystem and its ongoing era shift. Whether fans love that chapter or hate it, it reinforces the same truth: Mickelson has never been a background character.
Phil Mickelson’s career is ultimately a reminder that greatness doesn’t have to be perfectly tidy. Sometimes it’s daring, messy, brilliant, and unforgettable—exactly like “Lefty.”
Featured image via Getty Images







