Bowed But Not Broken

Outwardly, Norman has seemed unruffled since his untimely de-Mize. He has bought a $118,000 Ferrari Testarossa and a new home in North Palm Beach, hung around the Roger Penske pit during the Indy 500, made plans to play golf for charity on five continents in as many days (with time for a ride in the king of Morocco's personal jet), had more beers and laughs than the populations of some small countries, and taken decades off a reporter's life by spinning a rented Trans Am going just over 80 miles per hour into a perfect 180-degree turn that would have left Jim Rockford in tears. All in all, Norman has gone about life in the usual manner, with little respect for boredom, safety or yesterday.

Typical Norman: After Tway's miracle shot, Greg went back to the clubhouse to find his friends looking as if they had just watched Lassie die. "What's with all the long faces?" he asked. "Let's get some beers." After the Mize Surprise, Norman and his wife, Laura, flew home to Orlando with friends on a chartered plane. They popped some champagne and had so much fun that when they looked at pictures of the trip later, Laura had to ask, "Is this after we lost?"

Certainly, Norman's handling of these disasters has been fresh and inspiring. After each of his four-letter-word defeats—Tway and Mize—he headed straight into the pressroom, made jokes, lifted a lager and toasted the man who beat him, even though, as Laura says, "he was dying inside."

If you haven't noticed, this is not exactly the established pattern in golf lately. Two Masters running, Seve Ballesteros has stomped off the course without muttering a repeatable syllable. Earlier this year Craig Stadler left the scene of his terrible towel penalty in San Diego so enraged that he was off the premises before anybody could talk to him. And, of course, all that is mild compared with other sports. Even as a father, John McEnroe still cannot seem to lose a point without disfiguring a racket or abusing a line judge.

"People don't understand how tough that is," says golfer Peter Jacobsen. "Here a guy holes out an impossible shot to take a major right out from under your nose, and now you have to go into the pressroom and be Mr. Wonderful."

Indeed, inexplicably, that's what Norman was. After the Mize chip, Norman said, "I didn't think Larry would get down in two from there, and I was right. He got down in one." Rest easy, Bobby Jones, sportsmanship is not dead.

Of course, we did say "outwardly." What of inwardly? How much damage did back-to-back heartbreakers do to the man Jack Nicklaus calls "the best player in the game"?

Well, after winning three straight tournaments in Australia last year and 10 around the world overall, Norman hasn't won a Tour event in 1987. In Dallas at the Byron Nelson Classic, he shared the opening-round lead but finished tied for sixth. "You know," Pete Bender, his caddie and confidant, said to him on that tournament's last day, "I think Augusta took more out of you than you thought." And Norman agreed.

What's more, history stands drooling. Not to spread doom, but in 1970 Tony Jacklin became the first Brit to win the U.S. Open since 1920. In 1972 he was tied for the British Open lead until Lee Trevino chipped in at the 71st hole and beat him. Jacklin never won—never figured in-another major. After Tom Watson beat Nicklaus by chipping in on the 71st hole of the 1982 U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, Nicklaus didn't win a major for four years, and he says today, "I'm still not over it." But even Nicklaus never had two majors—in a row—snapped out of his molars, the way Norman did. Who could blame Norman if he winds up bumming quarters outside some Woolworth's?

Ptoooie, says Norman. "I never feel sorry for myself. In golf, if the other guy is better than you at the time, so be it. When I lose like that, I want to come back and say, Screw it. It tees me off even more and I want to play better."