Lovely losers just get me all choked up

During one of her pre-Wimbledon interviews this year Jana Novotna reflected, somewhat ruefully, on the public perception of her since the day she wept on the shoulder of the Duchess of Kent after snatching defeat from the jaws of victory in the 1993 Wimbledon final against Steffi Graf (she was 4-1 up with a point for 5-1 in the deciding set).

Six years on, she said, she was still receiving sympathetic pats on the back and looks that said "sorry for your trouble". She politely points out to these people that she'd put that trauma behind her by going on to win Wimbledon in 1998, beating Nathalie Tauziat in straight sets, thereby exorcising the ghosts that still lingered from five years before, but this didn't seem to interest those offering her consolation. The truth is that even if Novotna had gone on to win five successive Grand Slams we'd still always remember her lovingly as the player who choked when Wimbledon glory was there for the taking. Steve Davis can probably relate to Novotna's experience. He's won so many major snooker titles in his career he's probably lost count himself, but if you're asked to pick out the most memorable moment from that career there's a good chance you'll opt for the climax of the 1985 World Championship final.

Davis often jokes himself about that night when he missed a very potable black in the deciding frame of an epic final to set up Dennis Taylor's famous victory, claiming that "it was only then that people began liking me". Up until that night Davis was the near-flawless ice-man who wouldn't have understood the term "choker" even if you'd given him a four-hour lecture on the subject. But then he missed that black and he finally seemed human. The bewildered expression on his face when the ball rattled in the jaws of the corner pocket and refused to drop is as vivid now as if it had happened yesterday. Gordon Smith never quite reached the lofty peaks that Steve Davis did during his sporting career, but he did alright. He was a decent journeyman professional footballer who eked out a living scoring goals for clubs in Scotland, England, Switzerland and Austria. These days he's a financial consultant in Scotland, fitting in a bit of media work in his spare time.

So, when he bumps in to football fans as he's going about his daily business do they remind him of the many great goals he scored during his career? No. "Aaah, you're the fella who . . . " they say, before their voices trail off in embarrassed silence.

Yes, Smith was the fella who missed a sitter in the dying moments of extra-time in the 1983 FA Cup final for Brighton against Manchester United, Gary Bailey smothering his weak attempt at converting Michael Robinson's cross when, really, it seemed easier to score. The game ended in a draw, United won the replay 4-0 and soon after a Brighton fanzine was launched entitled And Smith Must Score. But he didn't and he's been reminded of the fact ever since. Not out of malice, he insists, but out of sympathy because, like Novotna and Davis, he was a mere mortal in that moment, one whose nerves robbed him of a place in sporting folklore. And, like Novotna and Davis, we loved him all the more for it.

Scott Hoch? Perhaps being born with a surname that rhymes with choke preordained that he would miss a putt from two feet to win the Masters in 1989. It seemed impossible to miss at the time, but miss it he did. "Hoch the Choke" may have won almost $10 million in his career so far, but he will always, always be remembered as the man who missed a two-foot putt to win a major. Greg Norman? A similar story. He's won a staggering $12,407,055 in his career, which suggests there's not a whole lot wrong with his swing. Few golfers attract a more devoted following, fewer still the affection he seems to inspire, but ask most of those who adore him to explain why they are so fond of him and they'll probably cite the days when he froze and threw away seemingly unbeatable leads in the final rounds of majors. He's a sporting genius, but on those particular days he showed the rest of us that he's flesh and blood too. We revere the nerveless sporting greats, but we love those, like Novotna, Davis and Norman, who show us glimpses of human frailty when most of the time they're so damn good they seem like demi-Gods, making it hard to believe that the rest of us hail from the same planet. Allan Donald is a brilliant cricketer, a ferocious fast bowler who has inflicted nothing but misery on the lives of batsmen the world over since he was first called up by South Africa many seasons ago. You'd look in to his eyes (on television) and you'd think that fella would knife his granny if it meant he could smash Brian Lara's middle stump in to smithereens. Cold as ice. And then in the World Cup semi-final against Australia last month he froze when his team-mate Lance Klusener set off on the "winning" run in the final over. Donald, at the other end of the crease, couldn't move his feet, so Klusener was run out and Australia were in the final. Donald was human after all. "I can't explain it," he said after, "I just got muddled, I couldn't think straight." So, Jean Van de Velde, you're not alone in getting it all wrong when sporting immortality was in the palm of your hands only for it to slip away.

"Maybe I wasn't humble enough," you said of your mental state as you took on the 18th at Carnoustie. Possibly, but maybe it was your wonderful lack of humility and fear that took you within one hole of winning the British Open in the first place, so don't apologise for it. Maybe what happened on the 18th will haunt you for the rest of your life, but (and we know it's no consolation) you provided the rest of us with one of the truly memorable sporting moments, one that will guarantee we will remember you much longer than if you had played safe and won the British Open. Even if you win it next year we'll never forget Carnoustie 1999. Ask Jana Novotna.