We do not believe in destiny in the sense that all of our lives are predetermined and we are merely playing them out. Anytime we’re feeling to boring or predictable, we do something ridiculous like dance the way we danced Friday to throw destiny off the chase. We also do not believe you can be whatever you want to be. We, for instance, cannot simply be an NFL quarterback just because we put our mind to it. Nor can we bring a 1,000-foot gorilla to life. So somewhere between a life that has been mapped out for us and a life that we are completely free to choose is where we all exist. And from there, as we grow older (and hopefully wiser), we become the sum of all our experiences. The luckiest of us will become as close to our idealized selves as humanly possible. The unluckiest will never unlock that mystery of fate — that notion that makes us keep doing the same things over and over because a strange part of it believes that it’s what we are and we cannot change it. In that regard, Mr. Greg Norman is painfully unlucky.Now, in many regards, he is in the top 1 percent of “lucky” individuals. He plays a game for a living, has an obscene amount of money and just married former tennis great Chris Evert. He’s living the good life. But on the golf course, despite his immense talent and the lifestyle it has afforded him, Norman is one of the unluckiest men we have seen. He always seems to play to his perceived fate — a wretched, tormented, self-fulfilling prophecy. His 77 yesterday at the British Open might be painted differently because Norman was so surprisingly in the catbird seat at age 53, but the numbers don’t lie: it was the 8th time he’s entered the final day of a major with the lead, and he has only one victory in those scenarios to go with five seconds, a third and a 12th. He had a different outlook going in yesterday, perhaps, but it was the same result coming out.

Breaking out of that psychological rut — that this is who I am, no matter what, because this is what I have been — is one of the most difficult things in life (and certainly in sports). We know it gnaws away at Vikings fans as they watch tense moments of big games. We believe it flows through the veins of Phil Mickelson, Norman, A-Rod and, until about a month ago, Kevin Garnett.

Who else does it afflict, who has broken the cycle and who are among the best all-time, in your minds, at aiming their free will at sweet victory?

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