Repeat Performance

Padraig Harrington wasn't the favorite to win at Royal Birkd ale, but he proved to be the best bet

Taming the beast: Harrington, teeing off at the 16th Sunday, had Royal Birkdale's number.

By Bob Verdi

Photo By Matthew Harris/TGPL

November 28, 2008

On the eve of the 137th British Open, those peripatetic oddsmakers at betting emporiums around the United Kingdom were trying to make sense of the field that would attack, or be attacked, by storied Royal Birkdale.

Sergio Garcia was installed at 8-1 to triumph by one agency, 10-1 at another. Ernie Els went off at 9-1 and 12-1, while Retief Goosen, Geoff Ogilvy, Vijay Singh, Adam Scott and Jim Furyk were at 25-1, give or take a farthing.

Mind you, it seemed entirely possible that the ultimate winner might be William Hill or Ladbrokes, because this Open figured to be more open than any major in a decade: For the first time since the 1996 PGA Championship, the roster of competitors at a major would not include Tiger Woods. He was home on wounded knee, thus precipitating forecasts that even this most venerable summer ritual might be remembered more for who wasn't there than who was.

However, in a rare fit of largesse, the golf gods giveth, and what ensued was magnificent theater over four days of survival on a splendid course hard by the Irish Sea. With flagsticks bent at the waist as if to gain a closer look, Padraig Harrington, the plucky Irishman, successfully and masterfully defended his title, winning the claret jug by four shots over native son Ian Poulter, he of the pink pants.

But you had to be there to see and hear for yourself the tale of a surprise guest, Greg Norman. Of all people, the 53-year-old Australian, a self-professed ceremonial participant on an extended honeymoon with his new bride, former tennis star Chris Evert, became The Great White Shark again. After visits to Egypt and Africa, the Normans decided to stop at Royal Birkdale en route to Royal Troon for the Senior British Open. He nurtured "no expectations," and he was not alone, for the numerologists put him on the board at 1,000-1.

Yet when Norman strode off the ninth green Sunday—"He's still got that walk, you know," noted Chrissie—he owned a one-stroke lead and, with nine holes between him and history, this British Open that Norman had labeled as a "tuneup" for a week among fellow golden oldies seemed within his grasp. Thousands of spectators, bundled up to cover all but their eyes, followed the final twosome, daring not to miss a shot and rooting for Harrington and Norman to do likewise. Howling winds muted roars from the galleries, but not the energy of the occasion.

From ceremonial to in contention: At 53, Greg Norman wasn't expecting much, but the Shark led after 54 holes before getting roughed up en route to a closing 77 and T-3 finish. Photo: J.D. Cuban

Alas, Norman made four bogeys coming in for 77, not that a T-3 with Henrik Stenson diffused the explosive ovation accorded the Shark as he marched square-shouldered to the final green. En route, the gracious Harrington remarked, "I'm sorry it isn't your story that is being told this evening." But with order restored, hats removed and hands shaken, the best man clearly had won. Harrington signed for a brilliant 69, with a weatherproof 32 on the back, for an aggregate 283, three over par. "I never put down last year as an isolated event," said Harrington, who defeated Garcia at Carnoustie to secure his first major in 2007. "I felt I was going to win another one, but it's come around quicker than I thought."

And to think the smiling Dubliner, who almost became an accountant, almost didn't participate. During the preambles at Birkdale, Harrington practiced, but somewhat cautiously. He had injured his right wrist the previous week while swinging away at an impact bag and was unsure whether he could start, let alone finish. (Talk about creating chaos among bookies.)

As champions tend to do, though, the 36-year-old Harrington, in concert with his American sport psychologist, Dr. Bob Rotella, decided to convert potential pain to eventual gain. By being less than 100 percent healthy, Harrington would just go play and remember to forget the pressure of attempting to become the first European to repeat as Open champion since James Braid in 1906. With his mind cleared, Harrington felt at ease. Also, the wrist cooperated. "It never really hurt," he said.

Harrington opened with a 74, leaving him five wide of Rocco Mediate, Graeme McDowell and Robert Allenby, all of whom teed it up in the afternoon, when the weather, such as it was, improved. Harrington drew a morning time in horrific conditions. He completed his first round bogey-bogey, but expressed overall optimism that was validated during Friday's second round: eagle at No. 17, birdie at the last for 68, three shy of K.J. Choi. At the 11th, Harrington had to carve his ball from heavy rough. He let go of the club. "It dug into the ground and gave me a fright," said Harrington. "There was a good bit of jarring, but the wrist came through it."