1988 Heritage Golf Classic - Sharkive - Sharkwatch

Greg Norman was uneasy as he stood over the six-foot putt on the final hole of the MCI Heritage Classic. He had stood over hundreds of clutch putts, but this one felt different. Ordinarily, nothing could disturb his steely discipline. But this time an alien feeling had intruded.

It was an inspiration, not a distraction.

Looking down at the ball for the last time, Norman understood. It was then that he fully realized how powerful an impact the desperately ill boy had had on him.

"This one is for Jamie," Norman said to himself.

And coolly, he drew the putter back, stroked firmly, and the ball rolled true and dropped. Norman did more than win a golf tournament for himself that day. He rewarded the faith of a young, new friend who had a great fighting spirit, and who idolized him.

At the Harbour Town Golf Links on South Carolina's Hilton Head Island, fans caught glimpses of the frail-looking boy in the white golf cap that weekend in mid-April, 1988. Millions more saw him on television as the cameras zeroed in. His face was tense and his fingers were crossed. He was wishing, hoping, willing Norman to success.

This was Jamie -- James Garfield Hutton, age 17, of Monona, Wisconsin.

"Never before, when I played golf," Norman said, "had my mind been on another thought than executing the stroke at hand, particularly with a shot as crucial as that. I knew if I made the putt, I had a good chance to win the golf tournament.

"But when I was lining up that last putt, and just about to take it back -- believe it or not -- all I kept saying to myself was, This one is for Jamie.' That was probably more pressure than I have ever put on myself -- because I knew I would break the boy's heart if I missed it."

Norman made a furious charge that final day. He came from four strokes behind and shot a 66, and won by a stroke. It was a triumph that did much more than add another championship to his great career. It was a victory that literally made a boy's dream come true at the end of the most thrilling week of his difficult life.

Jamie Hutton had the unfortunate distinction of being, as doctors described it, a thirty million-to-one shot. Jamie, the youngest of three children, had suffered from Crohn's disease since he was seven. He struggled for years with this chronic intestinal inflammation. Then in February, 1988, just some two months before the Heritage Classic, doctors at the University of Wisconsin Medical Center in Madison found that he also had leukemia. Thirty million-to-one, they said, that anyone could have two unrelated diseases. As one doctor put it, "It is as unlikely as being struck by lightning while involved in an automobile accident."

Mrs. Garnett Hutton, Jamie's mother and closest friend, remembers well the day they learned there was no doubt about the leukemia. She also remembers that it was Jamie who found the strength.

"We cried, just Jamie and I, in the apartment," she said. "Then Jamie stopped, and he said, 'OK, Mom. Now we know I have it. We can deal with it.' "

Although he was limited by his illnesses, Jamie was a normal kid at Monona High School. He liked fried chicken and Tom Hanks movies. He would hero-worship athletes and laugh with friends, smile bashfully around girls and probably fall in love with every second or third one he met. But in his way, he was tougher than the rest. He had to be. He never stopped smiling, and he never stopped fighting those invaders that had hospitalized him so much of his young life.

Jamie became friends with Greg Norman through a way that is relatively new on the American scene -- organizations that try to make wishes come true for youngsters suffering from lengthy or threatening illnesses. In Jamie's home area, it was Thursday's Child. Kids may wish to take a trip to Disney World or the Grand Canyon, or to ride a horse or swim in the ocean. For Jamie, it was to meet Greg Norman.

An avid sports fan, Jamie had a particular interest in National Basketball Association superstars Michael Jordan, of the Chicago Bulls, and Larry Bird, of the Boston Celtics. He hung their autographed pictures in his bedroom. But just a glance around the room made it clear that the big, stark-blond Australian swashbuckler was his main man. The life-sized poster, pictures, and magazines covered the walls and bookcases -- a Greg Norman shrine in Monona, Wisconsin.

For Norman, back in August, 1987, Jamie Hutton was nothing more than just a name. Jamie's mother had written, saying that Jamie was sick and would appreciate an autographed photo. But Norman had no way of knowing just how much he meant to this young fan in Wisconsin. When Thursday's Child asked Jamie what he was wishing for, he said, "I want to go and watch Greg Norman play in a golf tournament..."

If you're going to wish, wish big. Jamie added a provision at the end of that sentence - It was: ". . . and win."

The first part was easy enough. Thursday's Child could get Jamie to a golf tournament, put him up for a couple of nights in a hotel with his mother, and get him home. Jamie had no trouble picking a tournament. A call to Norman's management organization, International Management Group, in Cleveland, got him the playing schedule. As for winning? Well, Thursday's Child would have to defer to Mr, Norman for that.

Jamie knew just about everything there was to know about Greg Norman. It was all there in the articles he had cut out and pasted in his scrapbook. He knew, for example, that Greg was a big Boston Celtics fan and that he, like Jamie himself, rooted hard for Larry Bird. So when Thursday's Child informed the Huttons that arrangements had been completed for the plane trip from Madison to Hilton Head, Jamie went on a little shopping trip. He had run short of cash buying a golf club head cover in the shape of a white shark, so with his mother's permission, he used her credit card to buy a Boston Celtics cap.

By this time, Norman had been told of Jamie's wish, and he was informed that the Huttons would arrive during the Heritage Classic.

"We just figured he would fly in that day and fly out the next day or so," Norman said.

That was also about the way Jamie and his mother had it figured. They had tickets to get to Hilton Head on Thursday evening and to fly out Sunday morning. But no one could have foreseen how completely Jamie was to affect Norman.

Jamie and his mother reached Hilton Head later than expected Thursday. Jamie couldn't wait for the next day. He telephoned Norman that night, about 11 o'clock.

"I was asleep when he called to say he was there," Norman said, chuckling. "So we set a date to have breakfast the next morning before the round."

Things were happening fast for the young man. And Mrs. Hutton was nervous when they walked into the restaurant for breakfast. They were about to meet that autographed photo hanging on the wall, but real and bigger than life.

"We were super-excited," Jamie said. "Mom and I arrived early so we could watch for him. When we told the waitress we were waiting for Mr. Norman, she said he was already seated, but that she would tell him. In a few minutes, he walked over to our table with a bowl of corn flakes. I couldn't believe he eats corn flakes! He was like a normal person."

Greg Norman, who is by all standards a superstar, is also as likeable a regular guy as one can find in the world of professional sports. There are no airs about the Australian. He loves his trade and enjoys people. Far from being a loner, as some athletes become in the face of a curious public, Norman handles himself with rare comfort and ease. He laughs easily and trades jibes with anyone. If he likes you, you know it. And if he doesn't, you probably won't ever realize it.

Norman is 6-foot-2 and broad-shouldered, and he stands out in any crowd because of that thick, flaxen mane. To those who know him best, he is both a gentle man and a gentleman. He also has that extra-special sensitivity to the plight of youngsters that comes with being a parent.

That first meeting of Jamie and Norman seemed more like a reunion of old friends than an introduction of two strangers. Jamie, the hero-worshipping sick boy, could have been awed into total and uncomfortable silence. But though he was a hero-worshipper, he was not a fawner. Norman, the hero, might have been stuffy and put out. But Greg is Greg.

"Those two hit it off so well when they first met that I wasn't nervous once I sat down," said Mrs. Hutton. "Sure, Jamie and I were surprised how real he was. Do we ever really know what kind of person our heroes are until we actually meet them?"

Breakfast included a brief, informal ceremony. Jamie presented Greg with the Boston Celtics cap.

Jamie was going through a series of thrilling firsts in his young life. He had Just flown in a plane for the first time, and a few hours later he had met his hero. After a relaxed breakfast, Greg and Jamie strolled out to the beach. Jamie pulled up short and gawked. There was the Atlantic Ocean.

"I'll never forget his first words -- 'My God, it's so big!'" Norman said. "Then I realized he had never seen the ocean before. Heck, he had never seen a palm tree before, either."

The ocean visit was brief. Norman had some business to attend to Friday afternoon. He and Paul Azinger had a spirited duel in the first round. Norman scored four birdies on the front nine, and Azinger birdied the last three holes, and they tied for the lead with six-under-par 65s.

At the practice tee before the second round, Norman received his other gift, the shark head cover, and he introduced Jamie to other big names in golf -- Azinger, Curtis Strange, Sandy Lyle, Tom Watson, Lanny Wadkins and others.

"Tom was great with Jamie," Norman said. "Then Jamie, who has a real wit, was speaking with Lanny and wished him good luck. 'But I hope you come in second,' he told Lanny. We all broke up over that."

Coincidentally, Curtis Strange also had a young guest who was suffering from leukemia. Michael House, of Virginia Beach, Virginia, had come to the Heritage Classic through the Make A Wish Foundation, an organization that does much the same things as Thursday's Child.

"It's the least you can do," said Strange, "especially when you have two healthy kids of your own at home." Strange is the father of two boys, Tom and David.

Strange introduced Michael to Tom Watson, and found him, like Norman, more than willing to greet the young man.

"Tom was just super with Mike," Strange said. "I thought maybe he would talk with him for a couple of minutes after I introduced them. Forty-five minutes later, Tom had to break it off to go to the first tee for his round."

On the practice green, Jamie was tossing balls back to Greg. He couldn't resist kicking a few in with his heels. Then, as they were leaving, he kicked one in from 40 feet. This did not go unnoticed by Lawrence Levy, a British golf photographer and a close friend of Norman's. Levy is forever on the golf scene somewhere. He's the photographer whose trademark is -- oddly enough for an Englishman -- a New York Yankees baseball cap. If that's not odd enough, how about Jamie's characterization of his new-found British friend: "An all-American tough guy."

Now, this might not stand up with fans of the occult, but Levy interpreted Jamie's long kick as something of a premonition, and he mentioned it to Norman at dinner that evening. That did it. Norman was already taken with the kid. Now he and Levy would see to it that Jamie would have a great weekend.

But before that, the day -- the second round -- had gone strangely for Norman. Something was gnawing at him. He didn't know it at the time, of course, but it was only a sample of what was in store for him when he stood over that putt on that final green of the tournament two days later.

"The hardest part for me was the first five holes I played Friday," Norman said. "I wasn't zeroed in on the whole deal. I was thinking of Jamie walking around, and that's when the thing hit me pretty strongly.

"He's such a likeable guy, and thinking what could have happened to him hit hard. His life was not going to be a long, normal life. I was thinking -- and it took me six holes to get back down to the game.

"And all of this after only knowing him for four or five hours. When we sat down for two hours at breakfast and walked the beach, he showed no signs of being despondent. He's so open about it all that it just strikes you -- those of us lucky enough to be healthy."

While Greg was struggling with his game -- those disquieting thoughts were competing for his attention -- Jamie was walking the course to watch his hero play. The first part of his wish had come true.

Jamie did not lack for company during the round. Lawrence Levy, the photographer, had taken Jamie under his wing as they followed Norman around the course.

The day went by, with Norman slipping just a bit as he lost the lead after two rounds. He had opened the day with birdies on the first two holes, then bogeys on the next two. "There's nothing worse than a start like that," he said. He finished strong, with birdies on the sixteenth and eighteenth for a 69 and a 134 total. He was one shot off the pace -- nothing much to worry about and a good position to be in halfway through any tournament.

The exciting day took its toll on Jamie. He was too tired to join Norman and Levy for dinner, so he and his mother returned to their hotel room. There was -- they thought -- just one more big day ahead before they had to return to Wisconsin. And Jamie wanted to cram in every moment he could with Greg on Saturday, the day of the third round.

Mrs. Hutton remembers that Friday night so well.

"We were going to bed early because Jamie was so tired," she said. "Just as I was about to turn off the light, Jamie said, 'Mom, don't turn off the light yet. I want you to look at me. You are looking at a boy who just had the greatest day of his life.'" Jamie was wrong.

There were bigger surprises in store.

Writers

Lawrence Levy
Gordon S. White, Jr.

Photography

Lawrence Levy

All profits will be donated to Ronald McDonald Children's Charities in the name of Jamie Hutton.