IT is difficult in the modern age
to become misty-eyed at the exploits of multi-millionaires hitting a white ball with a stick while complaining about their working conditions and doing it
all at a pace that would embarrass
a tortoise with a limp.

But it was possible to indulge
in sentiment on Sunday night as Phil Mickelson won his first Open Championship at the 20th attempt.

It was not just his unalloyed joy and that of his family that prompted the warmest of emotions but also the realisation that the Claret Jug was an object that Mickelson sought with the most earnest perseverance.

There are those who are suspicious of the relentless bonhomie of the 43-year-old American, believing his eternal sunniness is some sort of sham.
This correspondent can only say that Mickelson has proved to
be a benign presence in front of
the press and an eager signer
of autographs for the fans, as witnessed in a scene in 2005 when
he stood just at the side of the
18th green at St Andrews and scrawled his moniker for so long security guards were anxious that the burgeoning multitude was causing an obstruction. Mickelson wrote on.

However, the genuine feeling
of delight at his Open victory is occasioned by two elements. First, Mickelson played with ambition and wondrous skill, particularly on the back nine when he made a conscious decision to pursue victory even if that strategy risked calamity.

Second, and perhaps more admirably, Mickelson showed
a trait that is now not so often ascribed to multi-millionaires.
He has played on and on at the
Open with his retreat from a series of links courses accompanied by the comments from fellow competitors, TV commentators, coaches and writers that he simply did not have the game to win in such conditions These observations were not without merit and were shared
to same extent by Mickelson.

He first played links golf 22 years ago so why has it taken so long for
a golfer of such prodigious gifts to lift the Claret Jug? "I did enjoy links golf when I first played at the Walker Cup in '91 at Portmarnock," said Mickelson on Sunday, his hand grasped around the base of the Jug.

"It was a wonderful test. I played well. But the conditions and the penalty for missed shots in the
Open Championship are much more severe than [other courses] we played then. And it took me a while to figure it out, I would say. I've started to playing it more effectively. But even then it's so different to what I grew up playing."

This caused Mickelson to pause
for thought. "I always wondered if
I would develop the skills needed to win this championship," said the Californian.

A birdie on the ninth hole on Sunday gave him the momentum
to believe he could overhaul those
in front of him, most notably Lee Westwood, and win an Open to
sit alongside three Masters and
a USPGA title. "I knew going into the back nine I was in contention. And to finally capture this, it feels really, really good," he said.

The wide grin hid the difficulties of achieving such a victory. Mickelson worked for this Open, changing his game, withstanding criticism, even taunts, and being prepared to reshape his shots even as late as Saturday morning with
his coach, Butch Harmon.

It was a highly individual triumph but it testified to attributes that are essential in the greats of any sport. Mickelson was always prepared to come back for more, even though
his best Open was his second place in 2011 at Royal St George's and his record was flecked with missed cuts, including one last year.

There is a true humility in this,
a willingness to learn to become better. There is a toughness because the ego of the top athlete can be fragile, with conspicuous failure hurting immeasurably. There is
a pleasing ambition, too.

Mickelson knows the history
of golf and accepted that he had to win an Open to win to fulfil his definition of greatness. He made personal history on Sunday but it was his approach, his motivation and his ability to overcome repeated setbacks that resonated with the thousands who cheered as he lifted the Claret Jug.