By Melanie Hauser
SportsLine USA Golf Writer
December 19, 1995
Three things we've learned about this silly second season of golf:
Fred Couples can't lose.
Ray Floyd knows how to pick partners.
John Daly is still searching.
The first two tidbits need little -- if any -- explanation. But here goes anyway.
COUPLES, YOU SEE, PLAYS his best when he's having fun, which he doesn't have in the regular season when his back simply doesn't want to cooperate with his swing. Come November -- or at least the last two of them -- Couples gets in the right frame of mind, his back is loose, and he cuts loose. Three wins last silly season; three more -- and $1,092,333 -- since Nov. 5.
As for Floyd, he teams with Raymond Jr., to slap the field by six shots in the Father/Son Challenge. Two weeks later, he grabs The Commish himself, Michael Chiklis, and heads to Palm Springs where they team to win his Lexus Challenge by three shots.
As for that third tidbit? It might simply defy explanation.
One minute he's playing delicate shots to win the British Open. The next he's shooting 80-80-81-80 at the Johnnie Walker World Championships and finishing a triple-bogey 7 shots behind Corey Pavin and Steve Elkington at the Grand Slam of Golf. Winner Ben Crenshaw got him by 8 strokes, for gosh sakes.
Just who is John Daly? 'Tis the season for him to start figuring it out.
On one hand, the guy is as backwoods as his home state of Arkansas gets. He's a Hee Haw character stuck smack dab in the middle of a party in the Hamptons. A pack-a-round guy who stuffs down chocolate chip muffins by the half dozen; a guy who when queried as to what he would do if he won the British Open, replied thusly: "I ain't joining if there's rules and crap. I hate them rules and crap."
ON THE OTHER HAND, no one has packed them in tighter since the King, Arnold Palmer himself. When Daly steps onto the tee, he's Big Bad John -- a grip-it-and-rip-it guy whose legend has grown longer than his booming but errant drives. He enters, they come.
All for one glimpse of that power off the tee. Who's winning? Who cares?
As seasons go, his was one big Claret Jug. Nothing more, thank heaven, and nothing less. Daly won the British Open, period. The rest of his season was just there. Which was one huge relief considering past years.
Maybe it was the kind of season this recovering alcoholic needed. One week in the spotlight, the rest on the fringe. One step in the right direction, 12 steps for the rest of his life.
There were no screaming headlines, no suspensions from the PGA Tour to add to his first two. No divorces, one wedding, one child. All in all, a healthy year unless you count the muffins and doughnuts and trips to Dairy Queen. Those, we are told, are a symptom of his recovery. The one-time addiction to alcohol has become a craving for sweets, altogether something much easier to handle.
THE ONLY WILD THINGS he did was shave that head again and name his daughter after a mountain range (Sierra). And, lest we forget, let that tongue speak before he thought a few times like it did about the R&A.
Progress? He would like to think so.
Not too long ago he said he was trying to regain some friendships he lost during the years when alcohol ruled his life. He admits he wouldn't even be here if he hadn't stopped. He is playing smarter golf -- at times -- and has rehired one of the game's best caddies, Greg Rita.
Now, if he can only figure out where he is. And where he's going.
Does he want to smooth those razorback-sharp edges or let them stand between him and the top? Will he be content with a legacy of two majors titles and penchant for chocolate chip muffins? Can he reach deep down and realize that it's a lot more fun to be fighting it out for a spot on the Ryder Cup than yukking it up about his one-in-a-million chances to be a captain's choice?
He'll turn 30 this April, and even he has to admit it's time. Bald is in, but in the NBA, not just because you were bored or tired of people asking when you were going to get a real haircut. Power is in, too, just not on every hole of every tournament. Or any time a fan screams "grip it and rip it."
THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH being different. Lee Trevino and Fuzzy Zoeller have made darn good careers out of it. But standing in your own way? Daly needs to learn how -- and when -- to step aside.
You can't tell me there is more pressure in this silly season than there was at St. Andrews or Crooked Stick, where he won the PGA. You can't tell me that being No. 1 in driving distance on the tour makes up for ranking 124th in the all-around stats. Yet you wonder at times if Daly really cares.
Three 80s and an 84? I don't care where it is. Tom Kite, Curtis Strange and Greg Norman -- to name a few -- would be boiling. Daly seems to take it in stride.
Maybe Daly is content just to win those two majors, collect his endorsement checks and shoot from the lip for the rest of his career. Maybe he doesn't really care whether he ever plays on a Ryder Cup or wins a Vardon Trophy or leads the money list. Maybe applying those 12 steps to his career is too much of a reach. Maybe being too good at this game is just too hard.
Only he knows.
Even if it 'tis the season, only he can decide.
In addition to writing this exclusive column for SportsLine USA, Melanie Hauser is a freelance writer and a board member of the Golf Writers Association of America.
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