As Any Golfer Knows, ‘You Win Some, You Lose Some’

When golf imitates life . . .

People who know nothing about golf now feel sorry for Greg Norman. He blew up Sunday in the Masters, losing a six-stroke lead on the final day and finishing second.

It went something like this:

He got up Sunday morning “loaded for bear.” He looked in the mirror and “liked what he saw.” He was leading the tournament and “had been there before.” Even though he had lost most of those tournaments, those days “were in the past” and “today was a new day.”

He stepped up to the first tee determined “to play his game.” He wasn’t going to be bothered by “distractions” that would cause him to “lose his focus.”

He played the first hole poorly but considered it merely “a bump in the road.” He’d had them before but believed he had “learned from his mistakes.” There was nothing left to do but “dig a little deeper.”

His chief opponent played the first hole well, but that was “something he couldn’t control.” Besides, he didn’t begrudge other people’s success. All he needed to do was focus on the “task at hand.” If he did that, “things would work out.”

The front nine unfolded rather undramatically and after five holes, he had lost only one stroke off his lead. Still, he wanted to speed things up while he was leading because “you never know what might happen.” At the same time, though, he told himself to keep his “eye on the prize” and not “put the cart before the horse.” As long as he did that, “the rest would take care of itself.”

By the time he reached the turn, there were “dark clouds on the horizon.”

The six-shot lead had shrunk to two. The front nine had been “nothing to write home about” and now he faced the back nine, which, as everyone knew, was “no walk in the park.” For the first time, he began to consider that “the ship had sprung a leak” and that he needed to “take stock of the situation.”

He stood at No. 10 and reflected. He was halfway home and, while not perfect, he “couldn’t complain” because other people “have it a lot worse.” He was still two shots ahead and while that wasn’t “money in the bank,” he was at least “ahead of the game.”

He was determined not to worry, even as he felt his palms sweating and his shoulders tightening. All he had to do was “execute.”

Despite his best intentions, he lost another stroke at No. 10. Although it was a bright sunshiny day, he could “feel the walls closing in.” His opponent seemed oblivious to the pressure of the moment that was, quite frankly, “eating him alive.”

Now only one stroke ahead, he “couldn’t stop the bleeding” and felt it was “just a matter of time” until he surrendered the lead. Time “stood still” and yet it seemed “like an eternity” since he had stood on No. 1 with a huge lead and big smile.

By now, he resigned himself to the fact that there was “no point in fighting it.” He bogeyed No. 11 and was “going in reverse.” He was acutely aware that everybody was waiting to see if “he has what it takes.” He was almost certain he was “going to come up short.”

Senses adrift, he hit his tee shot on No. 12 into the water. On a day of disasters, this one “took the cake.” The subsequent splash “said it all” and inwardly he “laughed his head off” as the totality of the disaster presented itself.

He was now two behind, and even though there were six holes to play, he “knew it was all over.” Incredible, he thought, that he was “riding high” just three hours ago and now was “playing out the string.”

Trudging up the 18th fairway, he wondered about his legacy.

He suspected people would recall the round as a “disaster” or “historic collapse” or “haunting spectacle” or “horrible experience.” That it also was “a tragedy” goes without saying.

Try as he might, he couldn’t piece it together, couldn’t figure where it “all went wrong.” He knew he had it all going for him until he “gave up on his game plan.” As sure as night follows day, he then “lost his focus,” which only “precipitated his downfall.” Ultimately, he “didn’t know what hit him,” and by the time he got to the 18th, “it was already too late.”

There was nothing left but “to pack up and go.” Sure, he could have done things differently, but who knows, maybe it was “meant to be.”

So what if he lost a tournament. Golf was “just a game,” anyway.

Dana Parsons’ columns appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at the Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.