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Master of His Fate
Posted: Tuesday April 20, 1999 11:22 AM
Get me Missing Persons. This Greg Norman they're trying to palm off on us is a fake. A fraud. A phony. They're feeding him lines we know he'd never say. For instance, last week at the Masters, this so-called Norman said, "Hey, I'm not in a rush anymore." Not in a rush? Are you kidding? The real Greg Norman's whole life is a rush! The Ferraris, the G-5, the helicopters! Invite this guy for a barbecue, he parasails over! So where is he? I mean, whoever this imposter is, he needs work. For instance, last Saturday he came to the 12th hole and became the first leader in Masters history not to be able to find his freaking ball. The real Greg Norman would've strangled two rules officials, drowned his caddie and filed an official grievance with God. This Greg Norman simply turned, walked back up the hill, rehit, sank the 22-foot putt and made an unforgettable 4. Never, ever would the real Greg Norman play in the final group on Sunday (as usual), lose by a hair (as usual) and tell us he enjoyed himself. "I really did," this Norman said, after finishing three shots behind champion José María Olazábal. "It wasn't even like it was Sunday at the Masters." Oh, please! The one thing in life the real Greg Norman wants more than anything else was just jacked from him again. He had the lead by himself with an hour to go. That's three seconds and three thirds now. He's Charlie Brown, and the Masters is the football. Give us tears! Give us demons! Give us Goodyears burning out of the Augusta National lot! "I just don't feel the sense of urgency anymore," he said. Oh (pause) my (pause) god! "He really has changed," says his wife, Laura. "I just accept things now," says Norman. "Whatever you hit, whatever you shoot, whatever you do, just accept it." Well, maybe this is what comes from a lifetime of having safes drop on your head and manholes open under your feet. Maybe this is what comes from getting Larry Mized and Bob Twayed too often. Maybe this is what comes from being stripped naked in front of the world and paraded down a green street of azaleas by Nick Faldo in 1996. Golf may owe you, but you finally realize it's never planning to pay. That was the capper, really, that hideous Sunday three years ago when he blew the six-shot lead to Faldo. But it didn't kill him. It just made him golf's only multimillionaire underdog. His secretaries were up to their diamond necklaces in sympathetic faxes and letters after that Masters. Augusta's crowds now ache for him to win. More amazing still, so do other players. This year, after Norman had missed the last two Masters cuts, David Duval said if he couldn't win, he wanted Norman to. Ditto Ernie Els. Ditto Nick Price. Players hoping that Norman gets a green jacket? Players used to hope that Norman got a hernia but not a green jacket. "Greg needs to be liked," says Laura, "and he is. It sounds weird, but I'd rather him lose and be liked than win and not be liked. Some players sit in their rooms full of hundreds of trophies all alone, miserable." She never once mentioned Faldo, but I will. Since Faldo caught, landed and gutted Norman that wincing day, he's won only one tournament anywhere in the world. He's broken up with the coed he was seeing when he left his wife. His divorce cost him a reported $10 million and his family life outside London. His former coach -- David Leadbetter -- now tutors guess who? Norman, meanwhile, despite every nasty rumor you've heard, is as happily married as ever. He and Laura just had their rings blessed at the Washington, D.C., church where they were hitched 17 years ago. He has never been closer to his two teenage kids, having just spent nine months with them while he recovered from the major shoulder surgery he had last May. While Faldo shot 80-73-See Ya last week, Norman and his rebuilt wing danced with the lead or near it until two bogeys in the final five holes did him in for the 4,761st time. What did this Norman say? "If I never get this [Masters win]," he said, "honestly, there wouldn't be a tournament on this planet that I've enjoyed more." See? What more proof do you need? I mean, would Wile E. Coyote say, "Honestly, there wouldn't be a company on this planet I've enjoyed more than ACME"? O.K., when do we get the ransom note? Issue date: April 19, 1999
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