On Thursday, the golfing world mourned the death of longtime Tom Watson caddie Bruce Edwards.
On Friday, Arnold Palmer's bogey on 18 signaled the end of a storied 50-year Masters career.
And on Sunday, Phil Mickelson proved once and for all that he's one of world's best golfers, breaking his 0-42 professional major championship skid and earning the mythical green jacket in an emotional and poignant Masters tournament.
Prior to Sunday he had 22 career victories and more than $20 million in career earnings, yet the absence of a major had rendered Mickelson a failure. Like Da Vinci or Van Gogh with a brush and canvas, Lefty had become a master in the art of choking like only the Buffalo Bills at the Super Bowl.
He was the luckless gambler and a fearless competitor, the type of player to go for the miracle shot from the woods, rather than the safe play from the fairway.
Mickelson had been in position to nab an elusive major numerous times prior to Sunday -- seven times he entered the final round of a major within two strokes of the lead, and seven times he came up empty-handed.
Mickelson's most notable and noble major defeat came at the 1999 U.S. Open at Donald Ross's Pinehurst No. 2. With his wife in Scottsdale, Ariz., awaiting the birth of the couple's first child, Mickelson teed off from 16 with a one-stroke lead over Payne Stewart. After squandering the lead with a bogey, however, Mickelson was forced to watch in horror as Stewart holed a birdie putt on the final hole, stealing victory from Mickelson's grasp.
The birth of his daughter the very next day may have been the world's greatest consolation prize, but the asterisk, the label, the monkey on Mickelson's back still remained.
Flash forward to Augusta on Sunday, when Mickelson entered the day tied atop the leader board with Chris DiMarco -- the first time Lefty had led after three rounds of any major.
The stage was set, with the spotlight solely on his 6-foot-2-inch frame and subtle, smug smile.
After teeing off at about 2 p.m., Mickelson strung together a less-than-spectacular front nine. DiMarco faded, Bernhard Langer ebbed and Paul Casey stagnated.
But Ernie Els, on the other hand, shot two-under on the front and moved three strokes ahead of Mickelson with an eagle on hole 13. Els was in the zone -- composed, collected, machine-like in efficiency -- and he held a one-shot lead going into the 16th hole, a par three, 170-yard hole. And that's where the tables turned. Mickelson birdied 16 to move into a tie with Els, who closed out with a par on 18, keeping the door open for Mickelson.
Mickelson opened the 18th with a three-wood drive down the fairway, then found the green with a 162-yard eight-iron approach shot. With a birdie and victory in sight, Mickelson sized up his 18-foot putt, aimed and fired. The ball rolled slowly down the sloped green and caught the left lip of the cup, teetering momentarily, defying gravity, curling along the lip. As the ball settled in the cup Mickelson jumped in celebration, putter in hand, the focal point of a magnificent weekend and fantastic Masters tournament. Later the green jacket was placed on his shoulders, replacing the immense burden and responsibility of perpetually missing out on the big prize.
It has been said that the measure of accomplishment is finding a perfect balance between success at home and success at work. If that is the case, the eternal loser, the "luckless" Mickelson, with three healthy kids, a gorgeous wife and now the respect he has long-deserved, might just be the luckiest golfer of them all.
