Meet the new Shark, same as the old Shark

Was there anything in sports this year as anti-climactic, yet as thoroughly expected as seeing Greg Norman throw up all over himself, bogey the first three holes of the final round of the British Open, and then fall gently into the night as Padraig Harrington took control by actually - gasp - shooting one-under for the round as everyone else was imploding left and right. It's almost as if he made some sort of deal with the Devil:

"Sure, you want one more chance to compete at the majors, just like you did 15 years ago? No problem, Greg. It will be just like it was for you at the majors back then. I promise..."

And just like it was in 1996 at the Masters, Greg Norman...well, I hate to use the word "choke", since maybe it's honestly asking too much to expect a 53 year-old to not fall apart after four brutal days of competition. But the collapse in the first few holes weren't just missed shots - they were complete mental breakdowns. It's one thing to decide "what the hell, I'm not even supposed to be near this leaderboard - might as well play loose and have fun." It's another thing to continue to spray the ball all over the rough with your driver when there's no damned good reason for it. Tom Watson (who knows something about working your way around links courses) sounded like he was about ready to come down from the ABC tower and wrap that fucking driver around Norman's neck every time he made an ill-advised choice to play driver when a long iron would have done just fine.

Still, lost in all of this is, you know, the guy who won the tournament? The same guy who won it last year? The same guy who didn't know until Thursday morning if his injured wrist would let him grip the club at all, much less play at a championship level? Yeah, Padraig Harrington. If Tiger Woods won a major dealing with a potential serious injury, wouldn't the media be making a much bigger deal out it than they did with Harrington's wi...

Never mind.

Posted by The Duke of Everything at 12:51 AM