There are people we love to hate. John Daly is a guy some of us hate to love. 

What’s to love? Other than his choice of pants from time to time, out on the links?

He took photos with fans where everyone lifted their shirts to show their breasts–including him. He married a drug dealer. He showed up drunk and/or got drunk in the middle of golf rounds.

The police seem to feel needed whenever he’s in town. He would make money with that great talent, gamble it away, make the obligatory tabloid appearance, and start all over.

Daly even teed off a beer can. 

But John Daly, who says now that he will no longer compete on the pro circuit, is a ‘normal guy.’ A guy you might want to have fifteen beers and nuclear-hot wings with. Plus he’s kinda walrus-y cute and cuddly, even in county jail orange. So he gets a pass. Some people just get passes.

Daly has backed off of his career, which at this point is off-and-on anyway. There are golf experts who say that he had as much talent as anyone… ever. Instead he won three PGA tournaments. Imagine if he’d had a true work ethic in the early days. 

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Some have pointed out the racial aspect–that if Daly were a big ole black man, people would certainly have a different opinion of him. Read the second paragraph of this article and think about it. 

Probably it’s true. But that’s not John Daly’s fault, and it’s not his problem. He just is who he is.