OK, so in the end Greg Norman did not become the oldest player to win a major. Nevertheless, he gave us  fiftysomethings plenty to think about. Usually when you hit Norman's age, you are throttling back and scaling back. You will never write the Great American Novel, become a rock star, make a billion or, especially, achieve athletic immortality. Of course, you never remotely possessed the talent to achieve any of those  grandiose ambitions, but now you have at least two ready-made rationalizations: You are too old, and you don't have time.

So here comes this 53-year-old guy, who has been largely retired from competitive golf while building his corporate empire and getting remarried, and blasts both of those excuses to smithereens.

Very depressing.

I can envision any number of households in which the wife now turns to the husband and asks accusingly: "How come you can't do that?"

At least we have a retort that fits in the great tradition of alibi-making: "When, like Norman's wife, you win your 18 grand slams, you can expect to see me leading the final round of the British Open."

(Photo: John Biever/SI)