Bridesmaid Revisited

The most tragic figure in sports today is the luckless golfer Greg Norman, who has now lost more majors than Colonel Klink. His second-place finish to Corey Pavin at last month's U.S. Open means he's now on the brink of an infamous achievement: If he's the runner-up at the British Open in two weeks, Norman will have finished second twice in every major, thereby completing the dreaded double Silver Slam. We decided to drop in on him and his wife, Laura, at their house on Jupiter Island, Fla., to see how they are coping with such abject failure.

Greg: I'm not sure I can go on, honey. This one might have completely defeated me. More of the Dom?

Laura: '85?

Greg: '82.

Laura: Lovely. And to think you told the press at Shinnecock that you wouldn't lose a minute's sleep over it.

Greg: To reveal my true sense of inner despair would be devastating. How can I let them know how shattered I am to receive yet another humiliating second-place paycheck? I almost refused the $207,000, I really did. Any more beluga?

Laura: Certainly. And you know, what's so sad is that people think all the money you've won heals the wounds. As though nearly $9 million in worldwide career winnings and 67 victories in 13 countries can somehow repair your shattered self-esteem.

Greg: Do they think mere vaults full of cash can fill up the emptiness within me? Shall we take a Ferrari or a Bentley to the polo match this afternoon?

Laura: Depends. Which Ferrari? We have seven now, sweetheart.

Greg: The Dino CT's back? Splendid. Not that it brings me any joy.