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Snake-bitten Shark By J. BRADY McCOLLOUGH Greg Norman looks up from his steak, a bit perturbed. He's in Kansas City to promote his new signature golf course in Independence, and yet, the questions keep coming about a golf tournament that was played 20 years ago. "So we're going to talk about the '87 Masters now, are we?" he asks. Yes, you inform him. You want to know how his life changed on Sunday, April 12, 1987, when his heart was ripped out by Larry Mize's 140-foot chip shot on the second playoff hole, a shot that seemed improbable. Norman shakes his head. He's about to get philosophical. "What is improbability?" Norman asks. "He wasn't trying to do anything else but get that ball either in the hole or close enough to make it happen. Is that improbable? I don't think so. Because he's good enough to execute. It was out of my control. I didn't 3-putt the hole. I didn't double-bogey the hole." Nope, Norman didn't do either of those things. Shell-shocked after Mize birdied the par-4 and danced around Amen's Corner at No. 11, Norman eyed his 30-foot birdie putt, hit it and knew immediately that he had missed it. Before the ball had even finished its trajectory, he walked over to Mize and shook his hand, a beaten man. "People want to keep talking about it like now, 20 years later, but people think it was my fault," Norman says. "People always want to say, 'Well, it was your fault.' Larry Mize played the shot. Larry Mize won the golf tournament. I didn't lose it. But yeah, people don't want to look at it that way." *** The perception had already been formed a year before in 1986, a year that could sum up Norman's career. He led all four major championships going into Sunday and only won the British Open. People called it the "Norman slam." Norman, a native of Australia, lost the PGA Championship that year on Bob Tway's shot from the bunker, another shot that contributes to Norman's definition of improbability. Still, Norman then was unquestionably golf's most dominant player and started 1987 ranked No. 1 in the world. So when he walked to the first playoff hole at No. 10 that year in Augusta, Ga., with Seve Ballesteros and Mize, Norman was certainly due for some good luck. Ballesteros was a proven winner. He already had two green jackets from 1980 and '83. Mize was a relative unknown, a kid from Augusta who grew up working the leader board at No. 3 and had won only one PGA tournament going into the '87 Masters. He was the clear underdog. Ballesteros would 3-putt the first playoff hole, while Norman and Mize both achieved par. It was down to two. At No. 11, Norman's second shot settled on the fringe, setting up an easy up-and-down. Mize's second shot veered way right of the green and settled some 45 yards away. "Mize was well off the green, and Norman was on the green," says Tom Watson, who caught the finish on TV after his round that day. "It looked like it was a tough chip shot, and at best he'll have to make a sizeable putt to save par. It was advantage Norman at the time." But Mize knew this course well. And he realized that he had hit a putt in an earlier round with a similar angle to the flag. He just wanted to chip the ball to a similar spot and let it roll the same way. That's exactly how it happened. The gallery that day saw something that they, at least, thought was improbable. "They weren't anticipating any of it until it got closer to the hole," says Ken Venturi, who announced the tournament for CBS. "There was an unbelievable roar. You could hear it building, and when it went in the hole, the gallery just exploded." Norman's confidence blew up, too. "I watched Norman," Venturi says. "His facial expression never changed. He was almost in complete shock." Norman missed his birdie putt and officially became "Bad Luck Norm." "Unfortunately," Watson says, "Norman's been the fall guy for quite a few shots like that in his career. He's been snake-bit. He's had a lot happen to him." *** That night, Greg Norman returned to his home in Florida, went down to the beach and cried. He looked up at the stars and asked, for the first time, "Why me?" Norman says that feeling only lasted for a day. "Of course it's going to be devastating when you lose a tournament, when somebody does that," Norman says. "Of course. But you have to be resilient, resilient enough to pick yourself up and move on. That's why I came to the conclusion very quickly that what's done is done." But Norman would never win a Masters. In 1996, he led Nick Faldo by 6 strokes heading into Sunday, shot a 78 and lost by 5. The continuing failure to finish started to ride on him. "People never lay dead for Norman to win," Venturi says. "Some people win where their opponents just fall apart. But Norman had to win it. Nobody ever gave it to him. "I think what happened after a while, after these defeats, he kind of lost his drive. He didn't have that fine edge that he had before. He was capable of winning anything he played in." Today, Norman rarely plays the game that made him famous in this country, the game that made him millions. He is wrapped up in his golf-course design company and enjoying his weekends for once. He says he got tired of the pressure of winning at the highest level. "I'll give you another analogy away from golf," Norman explains. "Why is it that the Olympics come around once every four years, and these athletes dedicate their lives from age 4 to 6, and they get up there on the podium with a bronze medal and beat their best time, and they get home and they're heroes? "You finish second in a golf tournament, and you're a
choker. You're a loser."
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J. Brady McCollough - jbrady@coveringsports.com (email) - 816-868-2621 (cell) |
