And look, let’s cut Greg some slack, shall we. It’s no time for a pile-on. If that 70-footer on 14 had dropped ... if that chip for eagle on 15 went in ... yeah, yeah, your auntie and uncle. But we’re talking the combined width of a couple of dimples here; it wouldn’t have taken too much to shift the momentum. Sure, you can’t deny the scale and scope of the collapse ... but things are never totally black and white, and it’d be dreadful if history forgets how Norman nearly pulled it back round when his dreams were crumbling. Just as it’d be an outrage if Faldo’s 67 doesn’t go down as one of the great final rounds in the entire history of championship golf, one of the carpe-diem performances. Faldo’s been pretty good at those over the years, you know. -12: Nick Faldo -7: Greg Norman -6: Phil Mickelson -5: Frank Nobilo -4: Scott Hoch, Duffy Waldorf -3: Davis Love III, Jeff Maggert, Corey Pavin -2: David Frost, Scott McCarron Anyway, thanks for reading. Join us tomorrow afternoon, 34 years ago in 1986, for more space/time continuum-bending Masters action! But take nothing away from Nick Faldo, who now joins Jimmy Demaret, Sam Snead and Gary Player as a three-time Masters champion. That’s some exalted company; only Arnold Palmer (four) and Jack Nicklaus (six) have won more. Throw in his three Opens, and that’s a total of six majors, putting him up there on the all-time list alongside Lee Trevino, and ahead of the likes of Byron Nelson, Peter Thomson and Seve! Faldo never seems to get the credit he deserves for his brilliance, his talent, his street-fighting moxie. And no doubt today’s 67 will become another example of that trend, eclipsed by the Norman psychodrama. But what a final round! Six birdies today, and a serene swing around Amen Corner, not a single bat of the eyelid as he traversed the most notoriously mind-bending stretch in major-championship golf. What a golfer! What a champion! England’s greatest sporting star of all time? He’s got a claim. How to process all that? The top line will be Norman’s collapse. There’s no option. It just has to be. This morning, it looked like his 15-year quest for that elusive green coat would end. The ghost of Larry Mize, in particular, would be banished forever. But once again, the Great White Shark came so close, yet remains so far, having found yet another spectacular way to come a cropper in a major. The yearning goes on. You’d like to think he’ll come back and win this Tournament another day, but at 41 years old, this may well have been his last chance. Heartbreaking. Greg and the Masters: one of golf’s great unrequited love stories. Speaking of Greg, he’s just come out of the scorers’ tent. Here’s his hot take: “I haven’t had chance to think about it. I didn’t play as well as I’d have liked, I didn’t putt very well today, it’s just one of those things. Things just didn’t go my way. Nick played a great round, he played very solid and steady, and it was all my mistakes.” Back in the Butler Cabin, last year’s champion Ben Crenshaw helps Faldo on with his third green jacket. The new champ quips: “I putted like you for a change!” Gentle Ben smiles back: “You played fantastic!” When did he begin to realise this could be on? “Greg bogeyed 10 and really that was a bit of momentum. And then after that it was hitting clutch shots. I had the honour on 12, and that was key. The good old match-play strategy, get it on first, and I hit a very good shot there. And I hit a good 2-iron on 13, I was very pleased with that shot. Greg was still in it, and we both hit good chips on 15. And then the last three holes, we all know what happened, so there you go. I swallowed hard, breathed harder, that was the situation, now it was mine to lose. So I had to put my head down and grind. I’m delighted the way I’ve played the back nine today. I was able to enjoy it [walking up 18] but enjoy it in a strange way. I was trying to enjoy it, but I do feel sorry for Greg.” That refrain again. Faldo often gets undue pelters for perceived coldness, but he’s been magnanimous in victory today. A masterclass in sportsmanship and humanity. Here’s Faldo in the Butler Cabin for the third time! No amateur in attendance at the ceremony this year, with none of them making the cut, not even last year’s much-heralded low amateur Tiger Woods. A flash in the pan? Oh Tiger, we hardly knew ye! Anyway, Faldo looks exhausted physically, and sounds exhausted mentally, his sympathy for Norman evident in pretty much every word. “I went out to do what I ended up doing, shoot a 65, 66, 67. But I genuinely feel sorry for Greg. He’s a great man. In a way it’s a credit to the Masters, for what you put us through. It’s the most nerve-wracking golf course in the world. We have to play the most precise golf under the most extreme pressures, and so I’ve come out great, but I do feel sorry for Greg.” Faldo raises both arms in the air triumphantly, spinning around, putter aloft, scarcely able to comprehend the events of this afternoon. He hugs his caddy Fanny Sunesson, then she departs the scene with the 18th flagstick over her shoulder, a souvenir sourced and secured. That leaves the stage for Norman and Faldo to embrace. And it’s a true embrace, bittersweet but warm, both men fully aware of the historic importance and emotional implications of this wild final round. Norman appears genuinely happy for Faldo, offering hearty congratulations and a kind smile; Faldo a strange mixture of ecstasy and wish-I-could-have-won-it-another-way concern for his opponent. The brotherhood of golfers right there. They walk off the green arm in arm, and Norman pats Faldo softly on the tummy, each friendly slap saying well done, old boy. Such a sporting response from Greg, who exits with supreme dignity, even though his eyes betray his heartbreak. The man with the child in his eyes. Poor baby Shark. It’s Faldo’s moment. Without so much as a microgram of pressure weighing on his shoulders, he teases in his right-to-left slider, and he finishes in style! A birdie and a truly wonderful 67! NICK FALDO IS THE 1996 MASTERS CHAMPION! -12: Faldo (F) -7: Norman (F) Two putts from the fringe for par, and at least Norman has avoided the further indignity of giving up sole ownership of second place. He raises one arm in the air to thank the gallery for their love, support and - sorry to say, because no world-class sports star wants this - sympathy. His heart’s broken. He’ll most likely never wear a green jacket now. But he still manages a smile and a tip of the hat. A six-over 78 today, though, goodness. Only three days ago, he tore round here in a course-record-equalling 63. This is why we all love and hate golf, in equal measure, often at the same time. Even the greats struggle to work it out sometimes. Norman wedges in from 120 yards or so. It’s of similar standard to much that’s gone before it. Pushed right and short, stopping on the fringe. And so both players make the walk up 18. The gallery showers the pair with applause. Norman arrives first, letting the champion-elect savour his moment as he walks up last. He’s able to soak it in this time; his first two victories required play-offs, but this one’s all done and dusted. A slight sadness hangs in the air, though, which is a shame for Faldo and no reflection on the 38-year-old Englishman. It’s just that Norman’s collapse has been through-the-fingers distressing, and many turned up today in expectation of seeing one of the most popular players in the world claim the prize he so longs for. It’s just the way it is. Faldo attempts to replicate Lyle’s famous bunker shot from 130 yards. It’s not quite as delightful as one of the greatest shots in Masters history, but that’s a hell of a high bar, and it’s pretty darn good on its own terms, sent into the heart of the green, the ridge across the middle bringing the ball back to 20 feet. He’ll have a good look at birdie. Faldo, full to the brim with adrenaline, booms his drive at 18 into Lyle’s bunker. Norman finds the fairway by the dogleg. He couldn’t have placed his ball any better. It’s not often he’s been able to say that this afternoon. Oh Greg. Meanwhile Faldo and Norman are both on 17 in fuss-free regulation. A genuine sense that, if both men could pick up and walk back to the clubhouse now, they would. Probably best to let Norman spend some time alone. A garden-variety par for Faldo. Norman has a much better chance for birdie, to get within three and keep faint hopes alive. But he fails to hit his ten-foot left-to-right curler. He’s come up short so many times today, though this fiasco can’t solely be blamed on his timidity with the flat stick. Just about every aspect of his game has crumbled to dust today. It’s been a comprehensive, all-encompassing, widescreen, stereophonic, surround-sound, hi-def-and-Dolby debacle. -11: Faldo (17) -7: Norman (17) Up ahead, the penultimate match comes up 18. Waldorf can’t get up and down from the front to save his par, but the 33-year-old from LA signs for a level-par 72, and at -4 will safely top his previous best showings in a major, ties for ninth place at the 1992 PGA and the 1994 US Open. Mickelson meanwhile guides in a slick downhill 20-footer to save his par. A preposterous way to finish, really, given the manner in which he yipped tiddlers at 8, 11 and 12, then three-putted 14. It’s a 72 for Lefty as well, and he finishes the week at -6. Another year, perhaps. He’s certainly got the sort of game - the talent, the showmanship - that suits this place. But then we’ve been saying this about Greg Norman since he finished fourth on debut in 1981, and look where we are right now. -11: Faldo (16) -7: Norman (16) -6: Mickelson (F) -5: Nobilo (F) -4: Hoch (F), Waldorf (F) Faldo very nearly knocks his 40-footer, with huge right-to-left break, into the cup. That would have added insult to injury. But a par is more than fine. Norman simply has to make this bogey putt. But it’s an awful misread, sent way too far to the right, the ball never breaking back and stopping three feet past. A double bogey met with almost total silence. A mixture of sadness, sympathy and respect. The gallery at 16 was bouncing earlier when Ray Floyd aced; now the atmosphere is positvely funereal. These are the sort of blows some people never get over. Will Redbud become Norman’s Rosebud? -11: Faldo (16) -7: Norman (16) -6: Mickelson (17) A few murmurs, little more, from the gallery. They’re so sad to see it end in this grisly manner. Norman drops, his ball falling like a single tear. He clips his third shot from the dropzone to 12 feet. Why couldn’t he do that 60 seconds ago? As Norman hauls himself up to the green, every one of Redbud’s 170 yards will feel a mile. The crowd, sensing his agony, rise as one to greet him with the warmest ovation. He’s always been popular round Georgia way. He’s always been popular the world over. A lot of golf fans will be feeling for him tonight. “Nope! It’s water!” Wah! Once again, just like at 12, a seer in the Augusta gallery knows exactly where Norman’s ball is headed, when it’s still in mid air, carrying all of the Great White Shark’s hopes and dreams. Greg goes for the pin - he’s got little choice, really - but sends a big pull-hook deep into the drink. That was nowhere near terra firma. Miles from the flag, the green, dry land. His head falls. Then he allows himself a little wry smile. He realises the jig is up, the horse has bolted, the dream is over. Faldo must know how close he is to a sensational victory, too, but there’s no trace of joy on his face. These two may be long-standing rivals, but while Faldo will be delighted to be in the box seat, he won’t be taking any pleasure from Norman’s ongoing suffering. This is incredibly difficult to watch. That was miles off target. It’s Faldo first up at the iconic par-three 16th. He finds the green safely enough, but that’s in conservative country, in the fat of the green but plenty away from the cup. Birdie is unlikely, but with a two-shot lead he certainly wasn’t going to flirt with the water, the pin tucked back-left in its traditional Sunday position. It’s all down to Greg. He needs to get close here. He takes his usual sweet time, and then ... Faldo is chipping down the green, quite the task on these hysterically fast surfaces. A lovely touch to four feet secures his birdie, then Norman tidies up for his. Still a gap of two, and Norman has come back strongly and impressively since his nightmare around Amen Corner. On another day, in another universe parallel to ours, his 70-foot putt on 14 has dropped, and his eagle chip on 15 went in too. They’re tied with three to play over there. Back here on Planet Earth, GA, Faldo leads by two, and poor Norman must wonder what he has to do to get his hands on a green jacket. -11: Faldo (15) -9: Norman (15) -6: Mickelson (16) -5: Nobilo (F), Waldorf (16) Greg has match-play style advantage, a little bit further from the flag, chipping first up the bank from 60 feet. For the second hole in succession, he’s so close to holing out from distance, landing his wedge softly onto the green, then rolling it out gracefully, right-to-left, towards the cup. It looks like dropping, but shaves the right-hand edge and stays up. As the gallery circling the green gasp theatrically - patrons have been allowed to congregate on the fairway, with nobody left behind - Norman falls to his knees, cocks his head back with an involuntary yelp of despair, then spins around and lands on his back, holding onto his wide-brimmed hat before springing back up in disbelief. So close to an eagle that would have given Faldo some serious pause for thought! Nobilo can’t make his par putt on 18, the ball sliding just to the left of the cup. A closing bogey, but that’s a 69 and he’s the new clubhouse leader at -5. A fine week’s work for the 35-year old from Auckland, who has yet to register a victory on the PGA Tour (four in Europe, though). Faldo’s going for it. He whistles a 4-iron over the water and onto the green, though it falls off the back, from where getting up and down is no certainty. Norman was a little longer from the tee, and he’s hitting 6-iron. This has to get close. His shot of destiny? Well, it nearly decides this Masters, put it that way. The nerves kicking in, just as they did on 18 a decade ago, he pushes his approach to the right. The bank on the other side of the water stuns his ball. For a terrible second, it looks like it’ll roll back into the drink. But it stops safe and dry. Lucky boy, Greg. It wasn’t quite as heart-stoppingly dramatic as Freddie Couples on 12 four years ago, but the old ticker would have been in his mouth for a few seconds there. Hoo boy. Some friendly golf on 15, as both Faldo and Norman send their drives into the shadows down the left. Norman will be desperate for eagle. Up on 18, Nobilo doesn’t try to get too clever, shortsided with the bunker in front of him. He takes the sand out of play, landing his chip onto the ridge running across the green, letting the slope bring his ball back towards the hole. He’ll be left with a downhill 12-footer - think Sandy in ‘88 - for a closing round of 68 and the clubhouse lead at -6. Meanwhile as expected, there’s no birdie for Phil at 16. Nobilo looks like stumbling at the last. He finds Sandy Lyle’s bunker on 18, then hits a fat iron out of it. He’s well short, disappointment washing all across his face. He’s left with a tricky chip over the bunker guarding the front, with not a great deal of green to play with, the pin tucked behind the trap. Back on 16, Mickelson finds the front right of the green with an uncharacteristically conservative play. You’d think he needs to make everything if he’s to apply any significant pressure on the leading pair; unless he curls in a huge right-to-left breaker for birdie, you’d imagine that’s his race run. One of the putts of the week by Norman on 14! It doesn’t drop, but it’s the perfect speed from 70 feet, up and over the ridge running across the green. It stops a couple of inches to the right, and that’s a simple tap-in for par. Sensational, because a three-putt bogey looked a very real prospect there; that’s where Mickelson three-putted from a few minutes earlier. Had Norman’s effort dropped for an outrageous birdie, it might have really turned the tide. It could well have rattled the usually unflappable Faldo. But it wasn’t meant to be. Faldo takes two careful putts for his par, and the lead remains two. -10: Faldo (14) -8: Norman (14) Mickelson drains his eagle putt across 16! There wasn’t a whole lot of movement on the putt, and he’s judged the pace perfectly. Only the second eagle of the day there! Those missed tiddlers at 8, 11 and 12, plus the three-putt at the last hole, suddenly look hella costly. He’d be tying Faldo right now had his flat stick been anywhere near on its best behaviour. -10: Faldo (13) -8: Norman (13) -6: Nobilo (17), Mickelson (15) Norman’s second into 14 is rotten. He finds the dancefloor, but he’s shoved it well right of the target and it topples down the ridge, ending a good 70 feet away. Faldo punches his up into the heart of the green. He’s not close, but he’s avoided Norman’s fate of dribbling away down the slope and into possible three-putt territory. Meanwhile two putts for Nobilo on 17, his birdie effort shaving the right-hand side of the cup. He remains four off Faldo’s lead at -6. Faldo’s drive at 14 topples off the fairway on the right and towards the trees, but he catches a break and he’ll have a route into the green from there. Norman slams a biggie down the left side of the fairway. He looks a little bit more relaxed now, the worst having already happened. Perhaps he’ll enjoy chasing as opposed to being chased. Up on 17, Nobilo finds the green in regulation, pin high to the left, and will have a 20-foot look at birdie. And on 15, Mickelson, from prime position in the middle of the track, whips his second pin high. He’ll have a look at eagle from 30 feet. There have only been two at this hole this weekend, by Jack Nicklaus yesterday, and Davis Love III today. The gallery, so quiet having witnessed Norman’s collapse, crackles into life as the man himself finally arrests the slide! After careful contemplation, he taps his birdie putt with great care, sending his ball gently oscillating from left to right and back again. You’d swear that was dead straight if you weren’t concentrating hard. Perfectly judged, and in it drops. A desperately needed birdie! Faldo follows him in to remain two ahead, but that might give Norman, the hunted turned hunter, some crucial impetus over the final stretch. God knows he needs it, because right now Faldo doesn’t look like he’ll be giving him anything. Meanwhile the penultimate pairing of Mickelson and Waldorf continue to do-si-do on the leader board, swapping places yet again: the former bogeys 14, three-putting from distance, the latter birdies. Masters Sunday, right here, right now! -10: Faldo (13) -8: Norman (13) -6: Nobilo (16) -5: Waldorf (14) -4: Hoch (15), Mickelson (14) -3: Pavin (F), Love III (F), Maggert (F) Faldo’s long eagle putt on 13 looks like dropping for a while. But turns out it’s always missing on the low side, and slips a tricky three feet past. Norman is up next, and really has to make this birdie putt if he’s to stay in this. He hasn’t made one since the 2nd, a lifetime ago in a different galaxy. Up on 18, Corey Pavin takes three to get down from the front of 18 and that’s a decent but ultimately disappointing final round of 71. He ends the week at -3, the joint clubhouse leader alongside Davis Love III and Jeff Maggert. He looks good for his third top-ten finish in the last five visits. A top-ten finish certainly looks on the cards for Nobilo, who sends his tee shot at 16 to five feet and tidies up for birdie. A conservative punch of the air. On only his second visit here - he missed the cut on debut last year - he moves into third on his own, three off the lead, and will be ruing his failure to pick up a shot at the inviting par-five 15th. -9: Faldo (12) -7: Norman (12) -6: Nobilo (13) -5: Mickelson (13) Those two shots took the best part of seven minutes combined. All the options considered. Golf as chess. Now Norman has no option but to get close. But after his travails at 12, he isn’t in the mood to flirt with Rae’s Creek. From 80 yards, he takes it out of the equation by wedging well over the flag, 15 feet past, spinning it back a little to ten feet or so. He’ll have a decent look at birdie ... but that’s by no means a gimme. That leaves Faldo with a decision of his own. He’s just off the fairway, on the first cut to the right. Does he go for the green, effectively pressing his cleats on Norman’s neck? Off comes the head cover and out comes the 5-wood. He addresses the ball and ... steps back, the breeze having picked up. He addresses it again and ... steps back again! This time he’s changed his mind. The gallery mutter their disapproval, but then Faldo isn’t playing to, or for, them. Eventually, after a Normanesque period of reflection, he pulls out an iron. Is he going to lay up? Nope! It’s a 2-iron, and one fired into the meat of the green. He’ll have a look at eagle from 40 feet. Had that ball landed ten feet to the right, the camber would have taken the ball seriously close. As is, it’ll do. He bounces down the fairway, full of beans. The pressure’s really on Norman now. Two putts from 40 feet for Mickelson up on the green, and that’s a birdie that takes him back to a share of third at -5. Waldorf can’t get up and down and the resulting bogey probably puts an end to his dream; he’s -4. Once they’re done, the stage is set for Norman. “I feel for him,” says Venturi on CBS, channelling all those emotions from 40 years ago. “It’s difficult to bring it back.” He’s got a decision to make. He’s 232 yards from the pin. He can make the green, but hitting fairway wood off pine straw, a dip into Rae’s Creek is a fair possibility. In an ideal world he’d roll the dice and try for eagle, but he can’t afford any more slip ups. After a couple of minutes of thought, and a little bit of very careful gardening, removing loose needles with a tee peg, he decides to lay up. The smart play, surely. From pine straw on 13, Mickelson fires his second into the heart of the green. His partner Waldorf pulls into a bunker on the left, and he’ll have a job getting close from there, the green in front of him falling away towards the creek. Back up the hole, Norman trudges up to the tee with his head hung low. Faldo has the honour, and he sends his tee shot down the right, from where he’ll likely lay up. Norman has to go for it, and belts one towards the patrons in the trees on the pine straw down the right. Oh Greg. Birdie here is a must, surely. This is an unprecedented collapse. Ed Sneed gave up a five-shot 54-hole lead in 1979 - and a three-shot lead with three to play - but even then he still managed to squeak into a play-off. However, Norman’s game has fallen completely to pieces, his mind like a cake left out in the rain. Oh no no. It’s extremely difficult to see him getting anything out of this. It’s certainly hard to see him getting back into this proactively, put it that way. He might have to hope Faldo hits a bumpy stretch of his own, though those sort of meltdowns aren’t really in the five-time major winner’s DNA. “Six-over par today. Is it possible to come back from something as great as that?” The thoughts there of Bobby Clampett on CBS. Now there’s someone else who’ll be able to identify with Norman’s plight, having led the 1982 Open at Troon by seven strokes after six holes of the third round, only to take three shots to get out of a pot bunker at 7, going on to card final rounds of 78 and 77. He ended the week tied for tenth. Faldo takes two putts for his par. Softly, softly, catchy Sharky. It’s good enough to establish a two-shot lead, because Norman, freaked out after giving his birdie putt on 11 too much, doesn’t give this bogey attempt enough oomph, and it’s always dying to the right. A double bogey, and the world number one has shipped five shots in the last four holes. The singular pressures of Amen Corner. The gallery, astonished beyond volume, watch as mute. They came for entertainment; they’re witnessing a comprehensive, root-and-branch mental capitulation. Norman had been in the lead for 49 holes, since making birdie at 17 on Thursday. Now look! -9: Faldo (12) -7: Norman (12) -5: Waldorf (12), Nobilo (14) Norman drops 85 yards from the flag. With his head, like his ball, swimming, he does extremely well to wedge to 12 feet. If he knocks that in, and limits the damage to bogey, it could arrest his downward momentum. It’s the only way he can think about this horrific situation he’s in - though trying to put a positive spin on what would be a fourth consecutive bogey takes some mental gymnastics. He trudges over Hogan’s Bridge without a word. The gallery has fallen extremely quiet too. An eerie pall descends on Amen Corner. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Norman really should aim for the heart of the green. “If I was Greg, I would not take the pin on,” opines Venturi, who knows a thing or two about what Norman is going through right now, having bogeyed 9, 10, 11 and 12 himself while shipping a lead on Masters Sunday in 1956. “I’d take it over the fat side of the bunker and put it on the green. He’s not going to win it here, but he can lose it here.” Greg takes the flag on. The ball begins its fateful descent over Rae’s Creek. Just before it lands on the bank guarding the front of the green, one wise old Augusta punter, who clearly knows where you can and cannot take liberties, predicts in matter-of-fact style: “It’s in the water.” The ball slaps the face of the bank, takes one big bounce, then a couple of sweet baby ones, then topples back quietly into the drink. Oh my. Amen Corner on Sunday, huh. Norman and Faldo receive a rousing, standing ovation as they walk up to the 12th tee. On CBS, Ken Venturi deconstructs. “You know what that ovation says? It says they’re tied: may the best man win!” Most of the colour has drained from Norman’s stunned face. As he waits for Faldo to go about his business, he gnaws on his bottom lip like a clubber who’s been a bit too liberal with the old bag of speed. His heart will be racing in similar style, too. Faldo meanwhile calmly sends a 7-iron into the heart of this most testing of par threes. Can his co-leader - his co-leader! - respond? ... Norman clacks his birdie putt down the green. It flirts with the lip on the right, but it’s not lacking for speed and charges on by. He’s left himself a tricky three-footer coming back. Not the worst putt in the world, but given what’s happened to him recently, it’s not the ideal outcome either. After trying to shake the tension from his shoulders by letting his arms hang loose, he sets himself and ... shoves a meek putt to the right, the ball lipping out. As he taps in, the patrons of Augusta National swoon and chatter in disbelief. What on earth is happening here?! Norman started the day with a six-shot lead, but all of a sudden, it’s all gone! Three consecutive bogeys. No wonder he’s pinching the bridge of his nose as he stumbles off the green, head bowed in bewildered contemplation. -9: Norman (11), Faldo (11) -5: Nobilo (13), Waldorf (12) -4: Mickelson (12) Mickelson bumps his chip up onto the 12th green. Not quite enough juice, he’s left with a four-footer for his par. And once again his flat stick lets him down. Having pushed one left on 11, he now pulls this right. A bogey, and he’s left two shots out there in short order. He slips to -4. Meanwhile Faldo can’t make his 25-footer for birdie at 11. No matter, another par will do. Because ... Faldo’s comparative lack of distance means he’s hitting first into 11. Always an advantage in match play, which, well, y’know. He piles the pressure on Norman by landing his ball 20 feet from the flag. Not sure whether he went straight for the pin or was aiming for the centre of the green and pulled it a tad, but he’ll not care too much about that. Norman responds well: after twitching and tweaking his set-up this way and that for 20 seconds, he eventually drops a 9-iron into the middle of the green, and will have a fairly straight look at birdie from 15 feet or so. Worth the wait. Norman takes out his frustration on his drive at 11, and batters one miles down the middle. He’s a long way past Faldo, who had crashed a big enough one down there himself. Over on 12, Mickelson goes straight at the flag, but he’s long, and the ball topples off the back-right of the green. He doesn’t have too much green to work with there, he’ll be facing a difficult chip back up. Meanwhile here’s Simon McMahon: “As Seve (+11) rides off into the sunset, my sources tell me there’s a promising young Spanish golfer who may be worth keeping an eye on. Won the European amateur championship aged just 15 last year, and with it entry to this year’s Open. A cool customer by all accounts. Sergio Garcia. Remember the name.” Yes, we’ve heard rumblings that he’s something special. Word is, if he hasn’t landed at least three or four majors by 2010, something will have gone seriously wrong. Up on 11, Mickelson arrows an iron straight at the flag. From 140 yards, he’s now no more than four feet away. That is a sensational shot, and ballsy too, the pin tucked in behind the water, with barely any room for error. A birdie would take him to within four of the lead ... but with the sun glinting off his flat stick, he dribbles a miserable putt wide left. Like Norman up on 10, he only half-committed to the stroke, and paid the price for his timidity. That’s one hell of a yip. I wonder whether he was put off by a roar of disbelief elsewhere, as news of Norman’s latest bogey was posted on the leader boards? And he nearly misses the two-footer he left himself, pulling it, the ball only just toppling in on the right. He remains at -5. And he’s joined there by Nobilo, who finds the heart of 13 with his approach, then rolls a gentle left-to-right slider into the cup from 25 feet. -10: Norman (10) -9: Faldo (10) -5: Nobilo (13), Mickelson (11), Waldorf (11) A lovely boring two-putt par for Faldo. If he’d hit the first one, uphill from 25 feet and fairly straight, it might even have dropped for birdie. But par will do. No sweat. Norman is breaking out into cobs, though. He almost quits on his par putt, and the subsequent lack of velocity means the ball’s always going to turn left before reaching the cup. That’s a wretched effort in the circumstances, and as he taps in disconsolately for a second bogey in a row, one patron emits a sing-song “ooooh my” in the style of Blanche Dubois. The tone and timing of this particular song of the south strongly suggests the subtext: “Uh-oh, what do we have here, this dude is losing it.” -10: Norman (10) -9: Faldo (10)