Greg Norman can sell. Because “Greg Norman” sells. Our man the Shark has long known the power of his brand, long known that by whacking “Greg Norman” on hats and houses, wine and wagyu beef, such commodities as ribeye steaks will up and walk out the door, as if on their own four legs, as if reanimated.
Unlike Jack Nicklaus, whose Golden Bear Inc. nearly went bust investing in projects in the 1980s, Norman’s genius is that he doesn’t stump up any of his own money. Just as he need not know the intricacies of fermenting pinot noir nor in vitro-fertilising grain-fed heifers, sear the Shark brand into a hunk of meat and it can go from counter meal T-Bone to “classic American cut enhanced by the Japanese genetics of Wagyu cattle”, and retail on his website for $US109 per steak. (Yep – each).
And yet, like his dabble with “The Shark Experience” – effectively golf carts with the internet – Norman has never, not really, not yet, been able to sell his one great legacy dream: a world tour of golf. Though given he plans to live until he’s 115, there is still time.
Norman first plumped for it in 1994 but the establishment shot it down. Tim Finchem and the PGA Tour didn’t want to share the money pot. Didn’t want
