Unless things change, Greg Norman may enter the record books as the unluckiest golfer in modern history. Only twice have golfers chipped in from off the green on the final hole to win major tournaments. Both times, at the 1986 P.G.A. Championship and the 1987 Masters, Norman was the victim. He has placed second in two other majors, losing the 1986 Masters to Jack Nicklaus because of a wild 4-iron on the very last hole. Despite Olympian skills and what Nicklaus calls "virtually unlimited potential," Greg Norman has only one major-tournament victory under his belt; the Golden Bear, Nicklaus, has tucked away a record 18. Norman at age 33 is golf's Job.
But don't feel too sorry for him. Norman is gifted, rich and a handsome devil besides. He has won 53 professional tournaments and holds the all-time record for single-year winnings at $1.3 million. On the course, the graceful Australian with the preternaturally blond hair first captures attention with his power. When he hits a drive the ball gets small in a hurry, as though some invisible agent is pulling it into the far reaches of that vault of air that is the golfer's working space. Nicklaus calls him the "longest straight hitter ever."
Then there is his blazing intensity. Whenever he sets foot on a course, he says, "it's as though I am going for my first trophy." For golf's Great White Shark, each tournament is an opportunity to recapture the "indescribable feeling" of walking the last few holes while in contention to win. It is then that the crowd seems to recede as Norman's concentration grows and he falls into that state of tunnel vision the pros call "owl's eyes." Pumped with adrenaline, he is usually hitting shots breathtakingly farther toward the end of a tournament. Nicklaus likens Norman to himself as a young man: a player with the confidence and skills to "overpower a golf course."
But not necessarily to overpower a major tournament, as Norman is all too aware. Still, while other golfers with such abominable luck might be smashing their mashies and pulverizing their putters, Norman's confidence remains unshaken. "I expect to do most of my damage between 35 and 45," says he. Perhaps more important, the losses have shown that he can handle his setbacks with style, and though it kills him to lose, he asserts, "You do more good * for yourself by losing than by winning." Norman is also something of a throwback. Golf has become the province of colorless, interchangeable technicians content with the mid-six-figure incomes that come with respectable finishes. But Norman continues to take enormous gambles going for the win, and he has shown class in winning as well as losing. After coming from four strokes back to win the Heritage Classic last spring, he gave his trophy to Jamie Hutton, a young leukemia patient he had invited to accompany him during play. The gesture so moved tournament officials and television announcers that for a moment none of them could speak.
Because of his combination of looks and sportsmanship, the beguiling Australian has been claimed as a hero by three continents, and though Norman may be faltering in his attempt to become the next dominant player, his popularity and income just keep growing. Today he is one of the three or four highest-paid athletes on earth with an estimated income of $8 million to $10 million a year. The key to Greg Norman is that almost no one seems to begrudge him his riches.