Men's Journal

An Aussie in Full. Even as he was flailing on the fairway, Norman was willing himself into an unstoppable entrepreneurial force. Photo credit: John Loomis

Reticence, Norman says, was forced on him by his treatment from the media. “Certain journalists drew conclusions about me based on incorrect facts. Their articles weren’t fair and balanced. When I’d sit down and read them, I’d say, ‘I’m not like that; I know I’m not like that. Why do they write stuff like that?’ I’d hate it; I’d absolutely hate it. Those stories made me protective. And a lot more cynical.”

Evert persuaded Norman to open up more to people — if not to trust them, at least to give them the benefit of the doubt. “I’ve had long conversations with Greg about how he interacts,” says Evert.

“Chrissie doesn’t hold grudges, doesn’t have enemies,” he says. “She taught me how to unwind, to share in the pleasure of things with those I never gave a chance.” Last fall Norman invited longtime rival Tom Watson to go elk hunting on his ranch in Colorado. “I had known Tom for 30 years, but we had
rarely ever talked,” he says. “I wouldn’t say we developed a great friendship, but certainly it’s an improved one.”

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Last year Norman seemed to even reach a kind of rapprochement with PGA commissioner Finchem, his old nemesis. At a press conference in Palm Beach, with Evert in the front row beaming, Norman agreed to be captain of the international team at the 2009 Presidents Cup in San Francisco. Was that a sign that Norman is letting bygones be bygones? “I don’t see my willingness to sit on the board as any sort of reconciliation at all,” he says, bluntly. “Tim and I still disagree about certain situations in the game of golf, both business and personal. I have opinions about the World Tour and the PGA Tour’s finances, and Tim has his. Any board is healthier with contentious, open discussion. In our case, the issues are always going to be there.” Nonetheless, he says, “What’s happened in the past is in the past.”

During a recent visit, Norman’s mother marveled at his newfound expansiveness. “She said I reminded her of how I was at 21,” Norman says. “I was enjoying myself again, I was back to being my gregarious old self. It’s been an interesting transformation.”

Even for Evert, an old hand at this sort of makeover. “It’s amazing,” she says. “Greg’s a liberated man. I don’t want to say anything disparaging about his first marriage, but he’s taking himself less seriously and getting more enjoyment out of things. I see a man who’s kinder, gentler, funnier. When he steps through the door of our home, it’s as if I’ve been hit by a lightning bolt. I really feel that we’re making each other better human beings.”

A much-changed beast, the Shark has come to regard the world with bittersweet benevolence. “My marriage to Chrissie hasn’t revitalized my golf game; it has just revitalized my life,” he says. “I practice now with a little bit more intensity over a short amount of time. The simple reason is that I’m looking forward to coming home.”

Would Norman give it all away for one green jacket? “I don’t think so,” says Mediate. “Once, maybe. Now not. Success is about happiness, not cars or houses or planes or ski lodges or Masters trophies. Greg has everything he wants. He’s married to the girl of his dreams. That’s just cool.”

Not that Norman is ready to throw in the Great White towel. He has been training for Amen Corner since mid-January. Is the ancient pensioner practicing out of habit, or does he actually expect to prevail at Augusta? “I don’t have any expectations,” he says serenely, his voice barely a whisper. “Whatever outcome, I don’t care. If I make the cut and play the weekend, I’ll be very, very happy.”

For years sportswriters have tried to account for Norman’s outsize ambition with flimsy movie logic: Either he’s playing golf to prove himself to a frosty father who never wanted him to turn pro, or he’s a power in business to compensate for his gruesome finishes in majors. The truth, Norman insists, is that he has always been obsessively single-minded and focused. “All I’ve ever wanted out of golf and business and life is to be the best I can be,” he says. At times, this reciter of Zen koans sounds like a self-help book on tape.

“I was elevated in the world of the public eye by losing, not by winning,” he says. “Wherever I’ve traveled, parents have commented on how my handling of defeat had changed their attitude toward their son or daughter. So while I didn’t win all those majors, I did win in a lot of other important ways.”

A great, beaming smile is stitched to Norman’s face. “I’ve been through a few rocky patches in my life, but at the end of the day I’ve been quite lucky,” he says. “You create your own life. If everything went right all the time, mine would have been extremely boring.”

And how would he prefer to die?

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says, deadpan, “as long as it’s in Australia, where there’s no estate tax.”

This article originally appeared in the April 2009 issue of Men’s Journal.

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