Patrik Giardino

"My name's on the trophy forever," Ogilvy says. "It doesn't really matter how it got there."

IF THE 1974 U.S. OPEN at Winged Foot was a massacre from the start, the 2006 edition was an ambush with the end in sight. When play ceased Sunday evening, Open dreams littered the 18th hole like broken glass. Harrington. Furyk. Montgomerie. Mickelson. One by one they cracked, making way for an easygoing Aussie named Geoff Ogilvy. The 29-year-old acknowledges the series of 12th-hour blunders that opened the door for him, but offers no apologies. "My name's on the trophy forever," he says. "It doesn't really matter how it got there." How it got there, of course, was not just dumb luck, but courtesy of some of the most clutch shotmaking you'll ever see. Ogilvy's road to glory wasn't always this smooth. By his own admission he was a lousy student growing up in Melbourne, and for years he struggled with his temper. The recent birth of his daughter has helped soothe his inner beast, he says, and the perks that come to major champions — including a trip to Kauai, Hawaii, for the PGA Grand Slam of Golf, where we caught up with Ogilvy — haven't hurt either. Wearing shorts and flip-flops and sporting tousled hair that hinted he'd just rolled out of bed, Ogilvy dished about Winged Foot, Tiger Woods and making small talk with George W. Bush.

There's a perception that you won the U. S. Open solely because of other players' mistakes. How do you see it?

I finished how I needed to finish. There's always going to be that question mark, [or rather] not question mark, but I mean, my name's on the trophy. But, yes, I got a bit fortunate. I've never seen a replay of Monty's [chunked 7-iron approach at 18 that led to a double bogey], but that evidently was a bit out of character, and Phil's [gamble at 18] was in Phil's character 10 years ago. But my name's on the trophy forever. It doesn't really matter how it got there.

You and Mickelson are friends. What was it like having a television camera in your face as you were watching him collapse on the 72nd hole?

By the time I got to the scorer's hut, I'm looking in [at the TV] and Phil is attempting his second shot. I just wanted to make sure I got my card right, so I didn't really have a sense for what was going on until his next one went in the bunker. Then they zoomed in on the lie and it started becoming apparent to me that something wasn't going quite well for him. It's hard, you know, to watch someone do that, but at the same time you do watch. It was weird, a very strange way to win a tournament.

Have you spoken to Mickelson about how things played out?

Not really. I know Bones [Jim Mackay, Mickelson's caddie] really well. We've made a few small mentions about it, but it's a hard thing to talk about. I'm sure in a few years time when Phil's won another five majors it'll be a bit easier for him to swallow. We can talk about it then, but I'm not going to bring it up because I feel kind of badly about it.

Has it put a strain on your relationship?

We're fine. We're no less friendly than we were before.

READER QUESTION* Do you feel like you still need to prove to yourself and others that you can execute at a major when it's all on the line? — Charles Seil, Sykeston, N.D.

When you're playing in the last few groups on the weekend at a U.S. Open, you're thinking you have a chance to win. It's in the back of your mind at least. The only point where I thought maybe I'm not going to do this is when I was walking down the 15th fairway and Phil hit it out of the rough close on 14. By the time I hit my second shot on 15, I heard the cheer. So he goes two up ... but then [at 17] we hear Phil bogeyed 16 and all of a sudden I'm only one back.