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John Daly's doing it again. He's teasing you, playing you for a fool, setting you up like the card shark he thinks he is.
Daly had a good weekend, finishing in a tie for 23rd at the Italian Open. At his best, 23rd place is nothing for John Daly. Not in that field. Of the 154 players at Milan, only Daly has a major championship. And he has two.
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| With all the smoking and drinking, how does John Daly find time to swing the clubs? (Getty Images) |
Think about that: From two majors to the No. 609 ranking.
And there, in all its metaphorical fury, is John Daly's life. What has become of it -- and what is yet to come.
It's going to end badly for Daly. You know that, right? It doesn't mean you're rooting for it. Nobody wishes ill will on John Daly. That would be like wishing ill will on a puppy. A sweet puppy. A sweet puppy in the dog pound, going weeks, then months, without being saved. Sooner or later, if nobody rescues it, that sweet puppy ... well. You know.
Just like you know with John Daly.
It's going to end badly, and I'm not talking about his career. That's already over. No. 609 in the world, this guy? Despicable. Daly is a world-class talent, one of the most naturally gifted golfers this game has ever seen. He has a long, violent swing that shouldn't work once -- yet he can repeat it over and over, generating ferocious club-head speed and surprising accuracy. And around the green, shockingly, he has hands of cashmere.
At his best, John Daly torques like Tiger and finesses like Phil.
Problem is, he drinks like a fish.
And smokes like a silly schoolboy.
And values both vices more than the insane golf talent he was inanely given.
And so it will end badly for John Daly, because it can end no other way. He has thrown everything in his life -- three marriages, millions of dollars, Hall of Fame talent -- into the bottom of a beer can. A man who thinks so little of himself is a man careening toward an end that, when it comes, will be sudden and ugly.
