The fact that it was Nick changed everything. Nick was the nightmare pairing for Greg

Paul Kimmage

Nick Faldo of England is congratulated by Greg Norman after winning the 1996 Masters. Photo by: Stephen Munday/Allsport

April 11 2021 02:30 AM

This year is the 25th anniversary of one of the most brutal capitulations in sporting history. Record books show Nick Faldo won the 1996 Masters but (Greg) Norman, who started day four with a six-shot lead over the Englishman, undeniably lost it. Little wonder, then, that the Australian isn’t exactly expansive on the subject. “I don’t reflect on it,” he says. “Time goes by, it’s the only thing you cannot stop. It only really comes up when other people want to speak about it. I don’t lie in bed of a night thinking back to what happened 25 years ago.”

Ewan Murray,

The Guardian, April 3, 2021

Nick Faldo tells a story about the essence of his rivalry with Greg Norman. It was a beautiful summer’s morning in 1979 and he had decided to drive a new Porsche Turbo — a gift to himself for his 22nd birthday — from his home in Hertfordshire to the Benson & Hedges International in Cornwall.

The course at St Mellion was a five-hour drive and he’s not sure when the ‘Dino’ Ferrari appeared in his rear-view mirror but he recognised the blond hair and flashing white teeth of the driver instantly. Greg Norman wasn’t hanging around. He passed Faldo with the verve of Gilles Villeneuve and was almost out of sight when the Englishman decided to respond.

“I thought, ‘I’m not having that’,” Faldo says.

A duel ensued until the clubhouse at St Mellion where Faldo had just managed to retake the lead. He killed the engine, pulled his clubs from the seat and couldn’t resist a playful jab as Norman stepped from the Ferrari and stretched his limbs: “You better take that thing for a service mate!”

That was the start of it.

Seventeen years passed until the Masters in ’96 and ‘that’ Saturday night at Augusta. Greg Norman was the world number one and had never looked back. He owned a jet, a yacht, a helicopter, a selection of luxury homes and a fortune estimated at $40m, but the thing that pleased him most that evening was his cuffing of Faldo.

They had played in the final group that afternoon and he had stared his old rival down, increasing his lead from four to six shots.

Not since 1976 had a leader enjoyed that cushion going into the final round. Ray Floyd had held his nerve and won easily on Sunday. Norman had similar plans.

“I’m just going to go out tomorrow as if we are all on the same number,” he told CBS.

The Australian loved Augusta National but the coveted Green Jacket had always slipped through his fingers.

1986: 2nd

1987: 2nd

1988:5th

1989: 3rd

1992: 6th

1995: 3rd

But not this year. He closed his locker and was about to leave the clubhouse when he happened upon Peter Dobereiner, a British golf writer and a friend of long standing. “Well Greg,” he enthused. “Not even you can f**k this up.”

This was the thought he took to bed.

Faldo’s caddie, Fanny Sunesson, tells a similar story about that Saturday evening in Augusta. She had dinner with some friends who had travelled from New Zealand and remembers that everyone in the restaurant was rooting for Norman and sure he would win:

“He equalled the course record on Thursday.”

“He’s played great all week.”

“No one has ever lost a six-shot lead in the final round of a Major.”

But Fanny was not convinced. She had a front row seat for the key battles between Faldo and Norman over the years and argued that her player would win.

“If Greg had been paired with Phil Mickelson (who was lying third) or any other player that Sunday, he’d have won,” she says. “But the fact that it was Nick changed everything. Nick was the nightmare pairing for Greg, he knew his ghosts.”

Faldo was fighting some demons of his own. Four years had passed since he had last won a Major and his aura as the Ice Man of golf was fading. He had not won a tournament in over a year, had slipped to ninth in the world rankings and had been roasted by the press for leaving his wife for a 21-year-old student the previous September.

When questioned by reporters after Saturday’s third round, he had ticked all of the positives.

“You never know,” he said. “If I go out and play a great round and put the heat on, anything is possible.”

But the words of a friend, Bob Cotton, changed everything:

“Just remember,” he said.

“Remember what?” Faldo replied.

“Just remember that you are Nick Faldo.”

That was the difference.

There’s a story Faldo rarely tells about the Shark’s 50th birthday. The month was February 2005, and they had travelled to Australia for the Heineken Classic in Melbourne where the pre-tournament dinner — a traditional feature of the week — was transformed into a glitzy celebration of Norman’s life.

His wife and parents were flown in. There were taped messages from his two children in Florida, two former US presidents (Bill Clinton and George Bush Sr), a former Australian prime minister (Bob Hawke) and a host of impressive sponsors and friends. A roving microphone was sent around the floor and there were live tributes from Ernie Els, Lleyton Hewitt, Michael Campbell, Colin Montgomerie and Adam Scott.

Then Norman was invited centre stage to speak at length about the support of his friends and family and the fact that he had never felt more at peace with himself. Nobody mentioned the six-time Major winner sitting at table 29. Nick Faldo hadn’t featured in any of the video clips and was conspicuously ignored when the microphone was sent around the floor. The mystery was that Faldo didn’t get it.

Wounded, he slipped quietly from the hall and spent the rest of the evening stewing in his room. So it was spelled out for him. “Think about it,” I said. “He’s Greg Norman. He’s being feted as one of the all-time great Australians. Were they really going to offer the spotlight to the one person in the room who — just by the sight of him — would remind people of his flaws?”

That’s the bottom line.