Mickelson, Mackay Part Ways As Player-Caddie

By ESPN

My favorite Jim "Bones" Mackay story isn't about the time he tended the flagstick for Phil Mickelson's 70-yard wedge shot on the final hole at Torrey Pines, or when he walked off the last green at Muirfield, emotionally spent, his arm draped around the man he'd helped to a long-elusive Open Championship victory.

This story was much more innocuous. It was maybe six or seven years ago, when I ran into Bones at a nearby mall after the Wednesday pro-am at Quail Hollow. We made small talk for a few minutes, and then I asked about the small plastic bag he was holding in his right hand.

"Phil likes a certain kind of tee," he said matter-of-factly, as if this was a regular occurrence.

Of course, at this point in his career, Mickelson was already a bona fide superstar. He was a millionaire dozens of times over, a multiple major champion. The point is, if Mickelson liked a certain kind of tee, he could've requested thousands to be left in his locker before every tournament.

Bones felt that this was his duty, though. Even after nearly two decades on the job, he didn't want to take it for granted. He understood that he still needed to do the little things. He knew that a caddie is always only a parking-lot conversation away from losing his job.

On Tuesday, Mickelson and Mackay jointly announced their mutual decision to part ways after a quarter-century together. In a business continually marked by brief relationships that unceremoniously end on a weekly basis, theirs was prodigious in its sustainability.

Player-caddie years are like dog years. However long they last, multiply 'em by seven. All of which should make it even more remarkable that Phil and Bones -- a combination that still rolls off the tongue like one continuous word -- lasted so long. To put it in perspective, their partnership began before four of the world's current top dozen players were even born.

It all started at a U.S. Open qualifier in Memphis back in 1992. Mickelson shot 69-63 to claim his spot in that year's tournament at Pebble Beach, and the rest is, quite literally, history.

The numbers are staggering: Together, they competed in more than 600 events, won 46 official worldwide titles and claimed five major championships. It was enough to get Mickelson inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame five years ago -- and if the building ever opens its doors to a caddie, Mackay would be among the likeliest choices.

Two weeks ago, they worked together for the final time, Mickelson posting four sub-70 rounds to finish in ninth place. Ironically, the partnership that started in Memphis ended there, too.

Well, that's not completely true. Loyal caddie as he was, Mackay spent the first three days of last week surveying Erin Hills for his boss, on the small chance that weather delays could allow Mickelson the opportunity to attend his daughter's high school graduation and still make his opening-round tee time.

It didn't happen, meaning Bones' final moments on Phil's golf bag weren't with a golf bag at all.

While Mickelson has already announced that his brother, Tim, will caddie for the remainder of this season, speculation as to Mackay's next move is already running rampant on social media. Perhaps he'll go to work for another talented young star player, just as he did 25 years ago. Maybe he'll take a job as a TV analyst, a role in which he'd excel. Or he could simply spend his days with family, playing Whisper Rock in Scottsdale, Arizona, where he is a member, just like Mickelson.

That announcement is for another day. Today should be reserved as a celebration for the Phil and Bones success story, a reminder that even the best things must someday come to an end.

Two weeks ago, Mickelson waxed poetic in Memphis about their silver anniversary.

"It was exactly 25 years ago this week," he reminisced. "Every time I come back here to Memphis, I always think about that, and that particular moment."

The memories will endure. The wins, the records, the seemingly impossible shots that Phil always wanted to take and Bones always cautiously warned him about. The caddie never took any of that for granted, never assumed he'd always have that job, which is probably a major reason why he lasted so long in it.