Phil Mickelson (right) was gracious in defeat after his collapse opened the door for Geoff Ogilvy to win the U.S. Open last June. Fred Vuich/SI

By Michael Bamberger

Phil Mickelson was one par away from joining the pantheon. He had won the final major of 2005, the PGA Championship, at a famous old bogey factory, Baltusrol. In April, he had won at Augusta National. Now it was U.S. Open Sunday, at Winged Foot, in the New York steam, and Mickelson was on the 18th tee. He needed a par to win, to become only the third golfer ever to win three straight professional major championships. Ben Hogan, Tiger Woods -- and Lefty, if he could just manage a four.

His tee shot missed the fairway but hit a tent. His second shot was a slap-shot off a tree. He played the third shot from a buried lie in a trap, and the fourth from another bunker. The fifth -- the one that would have meant an 18-hole playoff with Geoff Ogilvy -- never sniffed the hole. New York had adopted him and now New York was attending his funeral. His double-bogey finish put him in a tie for second with Jim Furyk and Colin Montgomerie.

And then he did what true sportsmen do. He talked to the press. He signed autographs for fans. He followed the custom and went to the USGA's award ceremony, where the blue coats give out medals for the low amateur, the runners-up and a trophy to the winner. Furyk, a former U.S. Open winner, blew off the awards ceremony after his bogey at the last. Montgomerie, who has never won in the U.S., did the same. But Mickelson showed up to again claim a medal he so did not want. He praised Ogilvy's stellar play and apologized to his fans for letting them down.

Mickelson knows what it's like to be a fan. Pro football, college football, pro basketball, college basketball, he's got rooting interests all over the place, screaming at a TV that cannot hear him. He's like us.

And that's why he's my Sportsman of the Year, for how he handled himself in the hour after the greatest sporting disappointment of his life. That's when good manners are revealed, when class is revealed, when who you really are is revealed. Mickelson showed himself to be a person with a sense of balance, responsible to the people who make his life possible: his fans. Pretty damn rare these days.

Talking to reporters, he was funny. ("What are we gonna talk about today?") He was candid. ("I am such an idiot.") He was wistful. ("I had it right there in my hand, man.") And he was defiant. ("I'm not going to let one bad shot ruin the rest of my life.") He had to know, though: The chances of him ever being in position again to win three consecutive majors are close to zero. Not in the Tiger Era.

This year, through the U.S. Open, Mickelson had won over $4 million; since then he's won a little over $200,000. He finished in a tie for 22nd at the British Open, a tie for 16th at the PGA Championship, went 0-4-1 at the Ryder Cup and didn't even play in the Tour Championship.

Some people were critical of him for skipping the Tour's grand finale. Please. Why should he play in tournaments he knows he can't win? That would be cheating himself and his fans. A professional golfer is independently owned and operated. Besides, he showed up at the awards ceremony on U.S. Open Sunday, and that was more than enough. He showed that his manners are excellent, and so is his sense of balance.