[Deathwatch] Moe Norman, golfer, 75

[Deathwatch Central]

Meeting Moe hard to forget
By BILL HARRIS, TORONTO SUN

Had Moe Norman attended his own funeral, he would have been embarrassed
by the crowd, the police escort, the fancy coffin with golf balls and
putters on the four corners. "No, I don't think Moe realized how big a
person he was," said Walter Gretzky, the most famous father in Canada
and one of several hundred friends and family members who attended
Norman's funeral yesterday at St. Louis Roman Catholic Church in
Waterloo.

"He never made out that he was any better than anyone else," added
Gretzky, who met Norman 15 years ago. "He was just another human being
and he loved everybody. But he was very shy, as you people all know."

Shy. Odd. Mysterious. All those words were used to describe Norman, who
died a week ago at 75. But the man could hit a golf ball, possibly
better than anyone else.

Norman lived something of a sad life by common standards, but while his
lows were very low, his highs were very high. His bouts of personal
turmoil and shocking poverty were counter-balanced by his legendary
athletic status and a stable of deeply loyal and protective friends.

BREATHING HEAVY

"I've known Moe for 55 years," said 87-year-old Nick Weslock, a fairly
legendary golfer himself. "I played golf with Moe three times in the
week that he died.

"He'd hit two balls down the middle, and he'd be breathing kind of
heavy. Then he'd hit two balls on to the green and go to the cart. I'd
say: 'Moe, do you want to putt these balls?' And he'd say: 'No.' His
breathing became pretty rough.

"He's going to be missed terribly by me. He had a strange way about
him, but we were the best of buddies. Next to Gus Maue, I would
classify myself as his closest friend."

Maue's wife, Audrey, eulogized Norman yesterday, as did one of Norman's
nieces, Sandy DeCorso. Audrey said she and her husband essentially were
Moe's "care-givers" for several years, a description with which no one
could find fault.

But Moe Norman made an impact that reached far beyond his inner circle.
If you met him even once, you had no trouble remembering it.

About a dozen years ago at the National Pines course in Barrie, my
playing partner, Gary Vine, and I noticed Norman behind us, all by
himself. As Norman caught up, Gary asked: "Moe, would you like to join
us?"

Moe mumbled something that sounded like "yes." Gary, a professional
golfer himself, was delighted by this remarkable opportunity. I, on the
other hand, was terrified because of the less-than-subtle weaknesses in
my own game. Why couldn't Gary simply have told Moe to play through?

"Oh great, the best ball-striker in history with the worst ball-striker
in history," I thought to myself. "Moe and I should pose for a damn
picture."

But I needn't have worried. Moe was not even remotely concerned with
me. He was neither friendly nor unfriendly. We played together for two
or three holes, Moe silently making his ball do whatever he wanted, me
just trying to keep mine in the province.

I'd like to say I took the time to admire Moe's swing and shot-making,
but to be honest, I was just too nervous.

And then it was over. As Gary and I lagged behind momentarily, probably
looking for my ball, Moe got ahead of us and didn't stop.

"Just let him go," Gary said, admiringly.

This week, it occurred to me that in a small way, my brush with Moe
Norman was indicative of his life. For a brief few minutes, Moe and I
went at the same speed. And for a brief few years, Moe and the golf
world went at the same speed, long enough for him to earn a spot in the
Canadian Golf Hall of Fame.

But generally speaking, society moved too quickly for Moe, and the golf
world moved too slowly.

Maybe in the next life Moe Norman and the rest of us will be in perfect
sync. Only then will we completely understand him, and he us.