You can’t help but root for John Daly, the golfer from the wrong side of the country club. I saw him play at Colonial in Memphis during an ancient Danny Thomas/St Jude Classic and I had never seen anyone able to crush a driver like he could.
Cleaned out by four ex-wives and hobbled by a soft spot for booze and gambling for most of his career, ole John is currently demonstrating the grip it and rip it school at the British Open.
After lap banding his insurmountable gut and tossing the bottle in the nearest sand trap, Daly is once again semi-healthy and in career resurrection mode, thumping lit Marlboros down on the tees at St Andrews before slugging the white pea some 300 yards down the old course’s storied fairways. He hasn’t won a PGA -be it Nationwide or The Tour- since 2004. If he held on and lucked out for a second Claret Jug -his first being in 1995- it would quite possibly be the most memorable victory in professional golf.
I sincerely hope he does well. And I hope he is wearing the Disco Balls pants from Loudmouth when he wins. They are my favorite.