Arguably for the first time in his professional career, Tiger Woods will not be the clear-cut fan favorite this week when the U.S. Open descends on Bethpage Black.

A year ago, Woods' heroic tour around Torrey Pines for a 91-hole Open championship on a wrecked knee provided what will ultimately be the image of his career, the testimonial to his unending desire to win.

His emotional return to defend his Open title any other year would be the central theme of pre-tournament hoopla. ESPN ikely would have done three "Outside the Lines" segments on it, including exclusive interviews with the doctor, the doctor's caddie and the repaired tendons talking about Tiger's unyielding determination.

But this is hardly any other year.

If Woods' return is a 7 on the goosebump stimpmeter, Phil Mickelson's appearance this weekend is a 14.

Mickelson, who finished second to Woods at Bethpage in the 2002 Open, struggled with his emotions and his game this past weekend at the St. Jude Classic in Memphis. In his first tournament since divulging his wife Amy's fight against breast cancer, Mickelson was understandably off his usually swashbuckling birdie-or-bust style.

That's the thing with Mickelson's approach: It more than anything in golf this side of Woods' undeniable greatness was as appealing as an uphill 6-footer for birdie.

Woods makes us watch for the certain greatness he will display; Mickelson draws us for the great uncertainty of his game. They have been equally enthralling -- Woods for his unyielding will and Mickelson for his will to never yield. Think Tiger as must-see TV, Mickelson more for the can't-miss drama.

Phil obviously loves the game, all of it, even if it hasn't always loved him back. At least in the past, he wanted to make birdies and win tournaments; he seemed to have little use for making pars and surviving the grind. No, Mickelson, regardless of what the critics thought or said or wrote, was always about making the magical moment rather than being a part of it.

While his plan was always centered on making the big shot -- some would describe it euphemistically as a devil-may-care approach -- the devil has always been in the details.

No tournament has personified mercurial Phil's hearty skills and heartache more than the Open. His near-misses have only been absorbed by his three major championships since the Open's last stop at Bethpage in 2002.

There was the double-bogey debacle on the finishing hole at Winged Foot in 2006 Open. He lost to Payne Stewart's torrid putter at Pinehurst in 1999. He squandered a chance when his own putter went south at Shinnecock in 2004.

And there was the previous tour around Bethpage -- dubbed the "People's Open" because it was played on a public course with a less-than-traditional public outcry of support for Mickelson.

That Open in 2002 was his 40th career major, and the burden of the "best player without a major" tag was heavier than a rainsoaked golf bag of cement. When Woods cruised to the lead at Bethpage seven years ago, it was an all-too-familiar scene that was threatening to be a bloodletting of 1997 Masters proportion.

But the New York crowd -- long known to embrace a winner, any winner and only the winner -- wanted to see a fight. When Phil unexpectedly gave them one, moving within a shot of the unbeatable Woods, their support grew in volume and veracity.

"Tiger was getting tougher to catch, but the fans weren't giving up and neither was Phil," Mickelson's caddie, Jim Mackay, told Golf Digest after that Open. "All you could hear was, 'Let's go, Mick-el-son!'"

It figures to be more of the same starting Thursday, whether he's in the hunt or in the weeds.

Mickelson said after a sluggish start to the Masters earlier this year that he did not really care about his round, "unless he was contention."

Now, with he and Amy facing a fight more challenging than anything a golf club can ward off, he understandably cares less, his heart too open for things bigger than this Open. Now that real life has presented real challenges that make the notoriously difficult Open look like a day at the park.

Now, if Mickelson can recreate his magic and contend here with the crowd on his side and the warmth and well-wishes of a golf nation, he will go from legendary talent to simply legendary.

Now, whether he realizes it or not -- and odds are he has to since various media outlets have reported two huge sheets with "God bless you, Amy. Good luck, Phil. 2009 US Open," written on them hanging from a house on the road to the course -- Woods could win the "People's Open" come Sunday and still not be the people's champion this week.