Phil Mickelson changed the business of golf.

When golf’s schism happened roughly a year ago, most players tried to strike a neutral pose. ‘This is a business’ and all that jazz. It didn’t last, but they tried.

As we begin the first Masters since LIV, we’re into the open-war phase of engagement. It’s been widely noted that at Thursday’s start, no LIV heavyweights are matched with their PGA Tour equals. Plus, only the PGA’s stars were placed in featured groups. Augusta National isn’t being very subtle about whose side it is on.

Until recently, most of the guidance on comportment came from Phil Mickelson. After getting off to a terrible start (“We know [the Saudis] killed Khashoggi” etc. etc.) Mickelson tried to play the split off as a minor disagreement among colleagues. As for politics, he’d never heard the word. Politics. Is that French? Actually, don’t tell me. Next question.

Mickelson got that the media would hate him for leaving, but he really did seem to think that everyone who matters would remain his pal. Sure, he forced everyone under hot lamps to answer questions about human rights, but c’mon. Who’d be angry about that?

I don’t credit the Dustin Johnsons/Brooks Koepkas of the world with much savvy, but they understood they’d crossed a hard border. Mickelson still talks as though he’s off on a professional vacation and that everyone might soon be joining him overseas.

Instead, kicking LIV has become its own sport and Mickelson’s the guy with a sign taped to his back. The media have slapped him silly on podiums around the world and the most he’ll do is roll his eyes. Knowing what was coming, he didn’t bother speaking before this Masters. One thing golfers don’t skip – an opportunity to say things such as, “If it weren’t for the love and support of Titleist/Nike/NetJets, I’d be bereft” in front of a microphone.

It’s worse than that. Fred Couples called him a “nutbag.” I don’t know what that means, but it sounds pretty bad. What did Mickelson shoot back? Nothing. He has become as placid as cattle.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Mickelson was speaking of the Masters like a sick man on his way back to Lourdes. He isn’t looking so hot lately. Once a guy who got ribbed for being roly-poly, Mickelson is now just this side of worryingly gaunt. He looks like he isn’t getting much sleep.

“[The LIV contingent] are grateful to just be able to play and compete and be part of it,” Mickelson told reporters. “A lot of the people there who are playing, competing, in the Masters are friends for decades and I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”

That’s not an olive branch. It’s an olive grove. So how’d that go over?

According to two wisemen of the game – Fuzzy Zoeller and Tommy Aaron – like a ton of bricks.

Here’s Zoeller, to Golfweek, on how Mickelson carried himself at this year’s dinner: “Phil sat near the end of the table and kept to himself. He didn’t speak at all.”

And Aaron: “I couldn’t believe how quiet he was. He took a low profile. He didn’t say a word.”

Sure sounds like a fun get-together with old friends who were looking forward to seeing you.

Social opprobrium might be bearable if Mickelson, 52, were showing professional gains. But he isn’t.

It’s not quite two years since he won the PGA Championship, to become the oldest winner of a major. You may remember that walk up the 18th to end it, an enormous crowd roiling around him. That moment in May, 2021 felt like the end of the worst part of the pandemic.

It also felt like a new capstone on Mickelson’s career. He wasn’t going to go down as Tiger Woods’s shadow self, the silver-spoon traditionalist to Woods’s middle-class revolutionary.

Mickelson was going to be his own guy with his own story, one that went on longer and in a more dignified manner than his closest rival. He was having a real middle-aged renaissance.

That seems a long time ago now.

Now it’s Woods who gets to talk in avuncular terms about being at Augusta (“The joy is different now”) while Mickelson is twisting out on the periphery.

The whole point of bringing Mickelson to LIV was so that he could dominate. The Saudis knew they weren’t hiring a spokesperson. What they were counting on was a familiar face appearing regularly in highlight reels.

Instead, Mickelson has been abysmal. He can no longer crack the top 25 in LIV events. His world ranking is in the 400s and headed south. Playing irregularly against middling talent in meaningless tournaments can’t be helping.

There was a small to-do this week over a court decision that makes it unlikely European LIV golfers will appear on future Ryder Cup teams. At least they’ll have the excuse of a legal impediment. What best-of-the-best team would want Mickelson any more? He’s not even useful as an aged-out mascot.

Normally speaking, there is little tragedy in the case of an athlete who finds him or herself out of favour. People don’t like you any more? Score three goals. They’ll like you again.

But this is a different case – an athlete who’s lost his friends, his reputation and his mojo at the same time.

People such as Couples aren’t taking runs at Mickelson because they don’t like him. If that were the case, they’d have been doing it years ago. They’re taking runs at him because they don’t like him, plus he’s lost his alpha status. They sense Mickelson’s weakness. That’s made him a target.

There’s something Shakespearean about all this. No man had more to gain from the LIV deal than Mickelson, especially once Woods took a pass. Mickelson has made himself monstrously rich. But in order to fully reap that windfall, he must continue humbling himself for the foreseeable future.

Mickelson wanted to change the business of golf, and he changed it. Having got everything he wanted, now it’s time for his punishment.

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