So, uh ... hmm. What are we to make of this image here, a two-time major winner selling a bunch of golf swag out of a bus, gypsy-style?
As the AP's Nancy Armour reported Thursday, Daly is slim n' trim, having lost 40 pounds the new-fashioned way -- surgically -- and only a few weeks away from finishing off his six-month PGA suspension for a variety of offenses. He's also trying to pile up as much coin as he can through his cash-only sales of merchandise ranging from the paintings above to hand-signed Daly balls, plus the opportunity to get pictures with the man himself. It's the same kind of stick-it-to-The-Man approach that Pete Rose takes when he goes to Cooperstown to sign autographs during Hall of Fame inductions; it endears them to a large section of fandom, but at the cost of ticking off the very people they really need to be impressing.
Why does Daly continue to capture our attention like this? He's a trainwreck of a human being, with divorces and money deals gone bad and run-ins with the cops trailing him like beer cans tied to the back of a Just-Married pickup. But he also gets up from every hit he's ever taken, plodding ever onward, and maybe that's what keeps everybody coming back. We're there to watch him take the hits, sure, but we also want to see what he'll do when he gets back up.
But let's not go too far in turning Daly into some kind of symbol of vintage Americana. For every time he's gotten to his feet, he's turned around and vomited on another opportunity that most of us would kill for. He's saying now that he's turned his life around again, really, for sure this time, promise ... but at this point, it's not drama that Daly needs to be churning out, just plain old reliable results. We don't need to see birdies and eagles and 300-yard bombs from you, John; a season's worth of routine pars would suit most of us just fine.
Still, though, I wouldn't mind grabbing a photo with the guy. It'd be a hell of a story, guaranteed.