Two-time U.S. Open champion Ernie Els hasn't won a major in seven years. Here's why that might change at Bethpage Black

If you get Ernie Els talking about "the brand," he will gladly tell you about the score of 94 that Wine Spectator bequeathed on his eponymous 2005 Bordeaux. He'll tell you he likes President Obama's stance on green energy, no surprise given Els's interest in solar-powered golf carts. He continues to jet around the globe to tend to his course-design business, and he gets a kick out of imagining an admirer of his work 100 years from now trying to recall whether or not Ernie played the game himself. "He was a bit of a chopper," Els says gravely, "but he tried hard." The former No. 1-ranked player in the world cracks up laughing.

Els has just shot a 4-under-par 67 at the Northern Trust Open at Riviera. It could have been better, had it not been for his shoddy work on the greens, a chronic deficiency these days. To open 2009, he tallied a shocking 65 putts over two rounds, atrocious for any touring professional, on his way to missing the cut in Dubai. Things haven't improved much since.

Els does indeed want to be remembered for his golf, but with his descent to 16th in the World Ranking this spring, his legacy was looking more like one of unfulfilled promise: three majors, but none after age 32. His tortured countenance these days on the golf course is no laughing matter.

His era's answer to Gary Player, Els has always been a supremely talented golfer/globetrotter with a perverse talent for keeping numerous balls (and a private jet) in the air while guarding his turf as one of golf's top players. It worked for a while, but then Els became the primary victim of the unholy terror of Tiger Woods circa 2000, pulled a Sergio in the majors in 2004 (four good chances, no Ws), and wrecked his knee while horsing around behind a motorboat in the summer of 2005.

In the middle of it all, he and his wife, Liezl, were coming to grips with the realization that their son Ben, 6, is autistic. "Everything was pretty set for me to do the Grand Slam probably, you know, by now at least," Els says. "Everything was going according to plan, but it shows you can't plan life. You've just got to react."

Els, who will turn 40 in October, has managed just one PGA Tour victory, the 2008 Honda Classic, in four-plus years. Despite publicly committing to regaining the No. 1 ranking he briefly held in 1998, progress has been slow. Which begs the question: Why?

A fellow Tour pro once said of Els that he is so laid back he's "practically horizontal." The comment was, in a way, a reference to both his syrupy swing and the apparent ease with which success came to him: a playoff victory at just 24 years of age over Colin Montgomerie and Loren Roberts at the 1994 U.S. Open at Oakmont, and another U.S. Open title in '97.

But in truth South Africa's most famous contemporary golfer is not at all laid back. His fury after shooting 80 on Sunday at the '04 U.S. Open at Shinnecock Hills spoke volumes — the greens were so baked that the USGA had to stop play to water them — and there were other hints that Els wasn't the tail-wagging Labrador retriever he was made out to be. His drive and how he channels it is perhaps partly why he hasn't won a major since '02.

While Tiger Woods's singular dedication is legendary, Els's life is so frenetic he sometimes looks like the inspiration for the BlackBerry. He has homes in Florida, England, the Bahamas and South Africa (two, and he's thinking of building a third in the wine region of Stellenbosch). He is working on a half-dozen design projects, and with his wine and other businesses appears to be modeling his life not after Player but Greg Norman. Els can seem scattered, but when he gets between the ropes he admits he can want it too badly, and burn too hot for his own good.

Then there's his carousing of the 12-ounce variety, sometimes with long-time caddie Ricci Roberts. Els has openly, laughingly talked about their merrymaking for years; boys being boys, and all. But by publicly embracing the image of an occasional bon vivant, he invites scrutiny from, and gossip among, the giant, moveable sewing circle that is the PGA Tour.

At the 2007 Tour Championship, Els, in last place through 54 holes, abandoned what he says is his rule of not drinking during tournaments. With one round remaining in another major-less year, he partied long into Sunday morning in his Ritz-Carlton suite in Atlanta. Els initially seems taken aback when the story is brought up, but then says, laughing, "Oh, s---, that was big. Well, you saw me that Sunday. I was hitting it on the walk, basically. How I shot 69, I don't know."

Els says the tournament was an aberration and does not apologize for having a few pops on Sunday nights, or with his "crew" back in South Africa. "I've slowed down from years before," he says. "I am who I am."