EASY DOES IT AS SCOTT CRACKS
Els wins with a late charge after Aussie crumbles like Norman
THIS was Greg Norman at the Masters in 1996 all over again. This was truly heart-wrenching for anyone with Australian blood and for Adam Scott’s English relatives who once had a home at the far end of Royal Lytham, overlooking the ninth green.
A championship the 32-year- old from Adelaide had held in the palm of his hand for most of the afternoon slipped inexorably from his grasp in the final hour.
How does the poor soul come back from this, from four successive bogeys to finish and a place on the wall of Open infamy? He thought he would be alongside Peter Thomson, Kel Nagle, Norman and Ian Baker-Finch, the other Aussie winners of this event. Instead he finds himself alongside Jean van de Velde and Doug Sanders.
Just like his great idol Norman at Augusta, Scott accepted his harsh fate with consummate sportsmanship when inside he must have been dying on his feet. If there was any consolation, it must have been the identity of the man to whom he handed the Claret Jug, a man who knows all about the demons that stalk this cruel game.
Over the past 10 years since his last Open victory, Ernie Els has been through it all. Off the course he lost a year of his career to a cruciate knee injury. His son Ben was diagnosed with autism.
On it, he lost his confidence so completely on the greens there simply seemed no way back. He was miserable and tetchy, far removed from the Big Easy of legend. The final straw seemed to be when he was not good enough to get into the field for the Masters in April.
Yet, from somewhere, the people who know and love Ernie managed to summon in him an ounce of self-belief. He turned to the belly putter — ‘I might as well cheat like the rest of them,’ was his explanation — and gradually the smile returned to his face.
And so one 42-year- old in Darren Clarke beloved by the public because of his prodigious gifts, love of a pint, and the fact the joys and despair of the game are written in the lines of his face had given way to another of the same age and the same DNA.
The manner in which the two completed their triumphs, however, could not have been further removed. For much of the final round Els was a long way from the business end of the leader board. At the opening hole the cheer he received from those occupying the grandstand behind the green was the most vociferous among the final groups. But after two holes Els had drifted seven shots behind Scott. Even at the turn he was still six in arrears. Scott was playing so well there appeared only one outcome.
Just as the rest of the contenders picked up strokes, they dropped them again. There was Graeme McDowell, out in the last group on the last day for the second successive major. Every time the Northern Irishman took one step forward he took one back. Three successive bogeys around the turn killed his chances and he would eventually settle for a tie for fifth.
We keep waiting for the old Tiger to show up on the final day of a major and so far it remains in vain. He slipped out of contention after running up a seven at the sixth, his first triple bogey in nine years at a major championship. All week the fabled bunkers at Lytham had been a talking point and here they claimed their most famous victim. Woods took two blows to get out and missed a fourfoot putt. All week he had adopted a conservative strategy reminiscent of his victory at Hoylake in 2006. There is nothing wrong with giving up length off the tee but you have to be straight. Two successive bogeys at the 13th and 14th holes were the result of poor tee shots with his driving iron. Short and crooked is no good to anyone.
While Woods, McDowell, and Brandt Snedeker made their mistakes, Els took their place at the head of a seemingly vain pursuit. He birdied the 10th and 12th holes to pull within four.
Then came one of those passages of play that sum up why people follow sport. Scott bogeyed the 15th hole and missed from no more than three feet at the 16th.
Down the last, the packed grandstands rose to acclaim Els and then roared their approval when he knocked in a 10-foot birdie putt, a noise that must have chilled the heart of Scott. Now he had to par the last two holes to win, a formidable task indeed when the biggest trophy in the game is on the line and a 20mph wind is blowing.
As if that was not enough, the fates conspired against him. At the 17th a tugged iron could have finished in a tight lie by the green but rolled an extra yard into an impossible spot. Another bogey.
What was his experienced caddie Steve Williams doing allowing him to play a three-wood off the 18th tee? It brought the left- hand fairway bunkers into play and he duly finished in one.
Credit Scott for a third shot of some courage, given the emotions that must have been swirling inside. But not even the controversial long-handled putter could help with the nerves when the requirement was to knock in an eight-foot putt for a play-off. On the practice putting green, big Ernie could tell by the noise from the crowd that he had won his fourth major. Second at Lytham in 1996 and third at the same venue in 2001, he had finally reached the summit.
This was a triumph for perseverance, therefore, a dogged refusal to accept his best days lay in the past, and at the end, following a winner’s speech full of warmth and respect, he put an arm around the crestfallen Scott’s shoulder.
A big man in every sense. A big man to the end. derek.lawrenson@dailymail.co.uk