Right At Home

Indeed, Phil the son's forays into junior golf and his older sister Tina's gymnastics cost money. "We figured out Philip's trips one summer, and it came to maybe $5,000," says Mary, who took a job to make ends meet. Phil the father, who had to retire as a commercial airline pilot at 45 because of diabetes, was vested enough to secure non-revenue tickets for family members. "That helped," says Philip, "but I still got bumped when there were no seats, so I spent a few nights in airports. Memphis, Detroit, Minneapolis."

Birth of a short game: parents Mary and Phil at their backyard green. Photo: Joey Terrill

There was actually a dress code then, and when Philip arrived for one flight in Levis, he was rejected. "So," says Dad, "he traded pants with one of the employees. Phil's were way too large, but he's always thinking creatively, our son. On and off the course. Even when he had a girlfriend in high school, she was on the golf team."

Phil and Mary constantly fretted that Philip's obsession with golf would affect his studies. "Whenever I asked him about his homework, he would always say, 'Mom, I've got it under control,' " Mary remembers. "Knowing him, does that surprise you? But when we would go to a parent-teacher conference, expecting the worst, everything was fine. His grades were good." Even when Philip would be caught staring at a classroom floor, imagining how a ball might break across the linoleum.

On a family houseboat vacation, Philip took to hitting wiffle balls from the top of the boat into the water, to be retrieved by younger brother Tim, now the golf coach at the University of San Diego. At trip's end, Mary noticed gouges in the roof. "I said, 'We couldn't have done that, could we?' " Mary recalls. "Philip piped up and said, 'Oh, yeah, we could have.' " The boat owner repaired all divots with a fresh coat of paint.

Thanksgiving, 1985, was another matter. Informed that golf would give way to a family gathering that day, Philip dutifully resisted. "We weren't going to eat turkey in the morning," he reasoned. "So I called Chris Peters, our neighbor's son. I couldn't drive yet. He was older, so I paid him $5 to take me to Stardust. I didn't bother paying him for the return trip, because I knew I'd be covered, if you know what I mean. Well, I hooked up with some guys and played maybe three holes. Then I looked up and saw my parents. I shook hands with my group and wished them Happy Thankgiving. 'Time to go, fellas.' My parents were furious. But on the drive home, I remembered an old line from Ben Hogan. 'Every day I don't practice is another day longer before I become great,' I said. 'If you don't take me to the golf course, I'll just have to find another way.' Mom and Dad just looked at each other. They never said a word."

No punishment ensued. Philip -- establishing a path he still pursues -- was not so afflicted by dimples on the brain that he was oblivious to other worldly endeavors. Unlike many teens, he never developed a taste for beer, but he socialized, although he missed his share of parties and dances. "Golf wasn't cool then," he says. "And golf fashion, you didn't dare wear to class what you wore to play. I wasn't a golf nerd, but I still did my thing. I could walk from school to work at the course. First tee time on weekends at Stardust was 6:50 a.m., so I had to be off no later than 6:45." At Mary's behest he took a music appreciation course. He memorized composers by golf clubs. "A strong, bold symphony was a driver," she says, laughing. "Something lighter and softer was a 9-iron."

Philip also dived into other sports. "He did everything well," says Paul Hubka, then the athletic director at Blessed Sacrament grammar school. Hubka now is a San Diego police officer who walked inside the ropes during last January's Buick Invitational at Torrey Pines, where the left-hander referred to him as "Coach." Baseball, football, volleyball and basketball occupied Philip when he wasn't submerged in golf. "I even played soccer," he says. "Didn't run very fast -- I know that amazes you -- but I could kick, which I also did in football, along with being quarterback. Right-handed, like everything else. Broke my arm. That's this scar here."