In Praise of Greg Norman and Grace in Defeat

In a different timeline, Greg Norman would be arriving in Augusta next week and slipping on a green jacket to celebrate the 30th anniversary of his greatest triumph, the moment when he won the 1996 Masters.

We do not live in that timeline, of course. We live in a world where Norman woke up on that Sunday morning with a six-shot lead thirty years ago and proceeded to slowly collapse over the course of five hours, like a balloon gradually losing air before plummeting to the ground. If you are a golf fan of a certain age, you remember it well, or at least you remember the picture of the Shark collapsing to his knees in anguish on the 15th hole when he just missed an eagle chip, effectively ending his chances.

I can’t say that I find Norman to be an honorable man, but in this instance, I come to praise him, not to bury him. It’s likely that there won’t be much of a fuss kicked up about the 1996 Masters next week, and if there is, it will be to honor Nick Faldo and the 67 he shot that day to win his third green jacket. But it’s worth pausing for a moment to acknowledge something Norman did that day, something that set an example for a generation of men that followed.

He lost with grace and dignity.

Every year, someone leaves the Masters feeling empty and broken. It’s a tournament that haunts far more golfers than it rewards. And you can make a case that it haunted Greg Norman more than any man. It’s not hyperbole to say that with a little better luck, Norman could have won three, maybe even four green jackets. He had real chances in 1986, 1987, 1989, 1995, 1996, and 1999. Every time, he came up empty. None of them hurt worse than 1996, when an even-par final round would have been good enough, and instead he shot 78.

Despite all that torment, Norman walked into the interview room with a smile on his face and greeted the press — and by proxy, the world — with humor and charm.

"I played like shit today,” Norman said, laughing as he did it. “I don't know, that's probably the best way of putting it. It was all my mistakes today. I really didn't do the right things. And Nick played very good, I must admit that. I just got a good old ass whipping."

Years later, when he was a guest on the Graham Bensinger Show, Norman explained his reasoning.

“I could have not gone in that press conference and walked away in the locker room and said forget everybody, I’m going to go home and cry,” Norman said. “But no. I’ve got to take it on the chin. That’s the responsibility that you put yourself in if you want to be in the arena. If you want to go out there, you’ve got to accept the accolades just as much as you accept the punch in the stomach that you self-inflict. You’ve got to step up and be man enough to do it. And if you don’t, shame on you.”

I have criticized plenty of Norman's motivations and decisions in recent years. But that doesn’t detract from the admiration I have, even to this day, for how he handled the pain of his various Masters defeats. When Larry Mize chipped in on the 11th hole to stun him in a playoff, he walked directly toward Mize to shake his hand right after his own birdie try ran by the hole.  

“People could see I put the game and its values first,” Norman told Golf.com years later. “For every golfer, that is our ultimate responsibility.”

You might think it’s corny to praise this stuff, but I don’t care. It resonates with me. Someone will win the Masters next week. And someone else will walk away bitterly disappointed. How they choose to act in both instances can resonate for years to come.