It won't be engraved there because an injured Tiger Woods isn't here at Royal Birkdale though. What will distinguish this Open Championship from the 136 previous editions of the world's oldest and most important event is the distinct possibility that a man in his 50s will emerge as the winner.

For Greg Norman, golfing immortality beckons.

Should the unprecedented occur, it would double as perhaps the greatest-ever advertisement for mid-life re-marriage. Recently wedded to the former tennis star, Chris Evert, the 53-year-old Norman arrived in Southport with little in his recent playing record to suggest he would fill anything other than a bit part in a championship he won as long ago as 1986 and '93.

In fact, "playing record" is something of an exaggeration. Basically retired from tournament golf, Norman has appeared in only five events this year – mostly to help promote courses he has had a hand in designing – missing the cut in three. Ordinarily, 15 competitive rounds in seven months is no way to prepare for an examination as difficult as that presented by Birkdale this week. Then there's the fact that Norman hasn't played anything like a full schedule in six full years. But, courtesy of Chrissie, he has made it all work. With one round to play, the suddenly Great-again White Shark is two over par and two shots clear of defending champion Padraig Harrington and KJ Choi of South Korea.

"I'd have to put that in my top-three rounds ever," said Norman, after signing for a two-over par 72 that included three birdies. "Those weren't the toughest weather conditions I've ever seen, but add in the circumstances – this is the Open and I was in contention – and it was something special."

Indeed, his round yesterday was one to savour. In an often one-dimensional world where the vast majority of tournament professionals have the imagination and individuality of the average lemming, Norman provided a tantalising glimpse of days gone by with some beautifully crafted shots. His control of trajectory and distance in what were extremely trying conditions was at times the equivalent of a post-graduate thesis written amidst primary school pupils content to colour between the lines. The little punches under a wind that gusted to 35mph were a particular joy.

"The hardest thing was having to start the ball 60-80 yards wide of the intended target," he said. "It was quite something to watch the ball reacting like that, especially when it got above the height of the dunes. I hardly paid any attention to the yardage on many shots. One time I needed a 5-iron 120 yards and another time it was a 7-iron from 104. I saw the shots and just hit them. Visualisation is so important in conditions like we had today, as is hitting the ball solidly."

Perhaps the best part of this belated blast from the past is that, for Norman, there lies ahead an opportunity to change forever the way he is perceived by both golf fans and the history books.

The harsh truth is that, for all his many achievements, Norman is best remembered for his failures. He is the guy who repeatedly threw up on his shoes when the pressure was at its height and the questions asked of his nerve and technique became just too tough.

"Greg was a very good player, but he never learned to defend," contends his compatriot Jack Newton, runner-up in the 1975 Open at Carnoustie. "He always had to attack and be the hero. That cost him dearly. None more so than the 1996 Masters. He had a six-shot lead over Nick Faldo and lost.

"Greg's bravado got in the way of the job at hand. I think he was the best driver of a golf ball I have ever seen. But he should have won more majors."

Of that there is no doubt. Two Grand Slam victories hardly represents the sort of return Norman's talent level should have realised. If there were an all-time list of golfers who failed to live up to expectations, his name would figure high and often.

Yes, he was unlucky on occasion, but there were times when the wounds were self-inflicted. In the 1986 USPGA Championship, Norman played the last nine holes of his fourth round in a hardly stellar 40 shots. Had that score been even two strokes better – not a big ask – Bob Tway's holed bunker shot at the 18th to clinch the title would have been irrelevant.

Still, much has changed in Norman's life since he racked up eight runners-up finishes in major championships. His partnership with Evert is, in many ways, one of sporting opposites. Unlike her third husband, the 18-time major champion rarely if ever failed to live up to her pre-match billing, the number of times she failed to justify her seeding miniscule. In other words, Chrissie never lost to her Bob Tway.

There is no way of knowing whether his second wife is already doubling as Norman's sports psychologist, but he could do a lot worse than learn from her almost peerless killer instinct. Evert won 154 tournaments and an astonishing 91% of her matches as a professional. All without coming to the net. By way of comparison, Norman picked up 78 wins worldwide, all without displaying even a fraction of the mental discipline and strength possessed by his new spouse. Physical talent was apparently all he had, a gift that was invariably not quite enough when it really mattered.

Victory today would go a long, long way towards final dispelling that long-held notion. Add "redemption" to the immortality thing.

GOLDEN COUPLE

THE marriage last month of Greg Norman and Chris Evert united two sporting icons of the 1970s and 80s.

For Evert, 53, it is her third marriage to an international sportsman following divorces from fellow tennis player John Lloyd and Olympic downhill skier Andy Mill.

One of the most outstanding tennis players of all time, Evert won 18 Grand Slam singles titles between 1974 and 1986, including three Wimbledons.

She was named the third-best female player of the last century, after Steffi Graf and Martina Navratilova, in tennis writer Steve Flink's book The Greatest Tennis Matches of the Twentieth Century.

Norman, also 53, divorced Laura Andrassy, an American flight attendant and his wife of 25 years, in 2006. The divorce cost the Australian golfer a reported £50m.

With two majors to his name, Norman trails his new wife in terms of trophies but he enjoyed a phenomenally lucrative career on and off the course. A string of near misses in the majors earned him a "nearly man" tag but he savoured two Open victories, at Turnberry in 1986 and at Royal St George's in 1993.