The Great White Shark struggles in familiar waters

GREG Norman made the horrifying discovery at Birkdale yesterday that those who would turn back time are playing a dangerous game. Rolling back the years can also resurrect the bad days.

The 53-year-old Australian's final round of the 137th Open championship was not exactly the 1996 Masters revisited, but it would be close enough to send a reminiscent shudder down his spine, perhaps even adding a few grey strands to his famous blond hair.

No-one with even a passing interest in golf will forget that day, when Norman's six-stroke lead over Nick Faldo at Augusta was transformed into a five-shot deficit as he racked up a six-over par 78. His 77 yesterday, leaving him six behind Padraig Harrington in a share of third with Henrik Stenson, would not be quite as shocking, given his age and the fact that he had started the day with only a two-stroke advantage.

In some quarters, his performance at Augusta reinforced the perception of Norman as a "choker", lacking the mental fortitude to pass the most serious tests the game has to offer.

It was a notion that was born ten years earlier, when he led all of golf's four majors on the last day and won only one, the Open championship at Turnberry. It is a series of misadventures that has been known ever since as "the Norman Slam", a disparaging allusion to his failure to exploit his colossal talent.

Considering his career overall, including his second Open triumph at Royal St George's, Sandwich, in 1993, it had always seemed a ludicrous proposition, and one that Norman himself would reject out of hand. This reporter's first encounter with the golfer known as the Great White Shark occurred in 1987 at Muirfield, after he had completed the opening round of his defence of the Open title.

In the two majors immediately preceding that event, Norman had been denied the '86 US PGA championship when Bob Tway holed an impossible bunker shot and the '87 Masters title when Larry Mize saw his over-hit chip in the play-off hit the flag stick and disappear into the hole.

"I know what people are suggesting about my nerve," said Norman, as we talked just outside the Muirfield locker room. "But, listen, this game is more about luck than most people realise. Losing those last two majors the way I have isn't going to affect me, because they weren't lost because of anything I did wrong. There was nothing I could do about Larry Mize chipping in or Bob Tway holing his bunker shot, so I'm not going to lose any sleep over it."

With all of that behind him, Norman, in common with probably everyone else on the planet, could not have anticipated his going into yesterday's final round at Birkdale with a two-shot lead. Especially as the raging wind and drenching rain of the first three days should, theoretically, have had an enervating effect on a player of Norman's advanced years and lack of practice.

In addition, this is a man whose business interests have made him worth an estimated £250 million, in charge of a multi-national company under whose umbrella are clustered subsidiaries concerned with golf-related enterprises, property development and vineyards whose annual revenues are said to exceed £150 million. His motivation at Birkdale would not be triggered by the thought of a £750,000 first prize.

In the circumstances, his achievement in clinging to the hope of a third Open championship all the way to a closing few holes is entitled to be regarded as miraculous. Considering the numbing start he made to the round, a bogey at each of the first three holes that surrendered the lead to Padraig Harrington almost before his ageing limbs had warmed up, it was astonishing that he should be back at the top of the leaderboard by the turn.

This, admittedly, had more to do with the Irishman's faltering than his own work, but it was utterly admirable that he should have recorded just one more bogey after a beginning that would have caused others to implode.

That he was four-over par for the day as they approached the tenth tee was attributable largely to Norman's erratic driving, perhaps the first signs of doubt in his own mind about his chances of achieving the seemingly impossible. He is, after all, a full five years older than the oldest man to win a major. Julius Boros was a stripling of 48 when he lifted the 1968 US PGA championship.

It would be an exaggeration to say that there was an air of uncertainty about Norman when he arrived on the first tee. But, having taken an iron for his opening shot and found the fairway, his second was a rather tentative push into a bunker short and right of the green. With the ball on the wall of the trap, a difficult shot left him 25 feet from the hole and he missed the par putt.

Dropping strokes at each of the next two holes brought the temptation to dismiss his chances on the grounds that he would simply wither and fade from contention. In the circumstances, he showed commendable application to finish in the frame thanks to his only birdie of the day, at the par-5 17th.

Afterwards, he confessed to being "naturally disappointed" and confirmed that he had been more nervous on the first tee than he thought he would be. Overall, however, his experiences in his 26th appearance at the Open left him with rather mixed feelings.

"Yeah, it was disappointing in the end, because I felt I was actually playing pretty well," he said. "Despite being three over after three holes, I thought I was playing well enough. But maybe if I'd actually won, I would have had to play more golf and I'm not sure that's what I want to do at this stage of my life.

"But I think you have to hand it to Padraig (Harrington] for the way he played today. He looked like it was getting away from him around the turn, but he came back magnificently and finished like a real, genuine champion. To eagle 17 under the kind of pressure he'd be feeling then was the mark of a champion."

Even at 53, Norman deserves inclusion in the same category.