John Daly has his golf cart and cigarettes, but he still looks miserable at the PGA

With his golf cart, smokes, and McDonald’s, John Daly has become a sideshow at Bethpage.

Golf is a slow game played in quick bursts but there were two rare moments of drawn-out drama as John Daly played the 17th hole on Thursday. It was the kind of extended uncertainty you get when an elite NBA scorer dribbles contemplating an isolation move at the top of the key. The first moment came when Daly’s bunker shot went to the ledge of the top tier of the green, waffled, and then slowly chose to come back toward the hole as the crowd got louder with each revolution. The second moment came when it appeared as if a nearby TV production crane may be needed to help tow Daly up the bunker face to get him out of the sand.

It was in that instant of real uncertainty as he simply attempted just to hobble up and back onto green grass that I muttered to a nearby friend, “Jesus, this is sad.” It’s sad in the every sense of the word. It’s both pitiful and sorrowful. It’s sad to watch. It’s sad it’s a part of a major championship. It’s sad that Daly has been reduced to this. It’s sad that Daly looks so sad about this.

The idea of John Daly as an commoner with an image so far removed from the buttoned-up traditional image we associate with most golfers is entertaining as hell. You can share a picture of Daly rolling around in his goofy pants with a smoke and a large McDonalds cup and the likes and favs and retweets will pile up. The people will love it. This idea of Daly and these images of Daly are fun. But Daly didn’t look like he was having any fun at all. He looked like he was in pain and he looked miserable. And it wasn’t just limping from one spot to the next or struggling to go up and down a bunker face. He almost never smiled as the fans shouted one adoration after another while he cruised past the rope line in his quiet electric cart.

Daly’s day began with a session on the range that could not have lasted much more than one cigarette. Hobbling to the far end of the range with his McDonald’s cup and then hobbling back may have taken longer than his warm-up. He may be in too much pain to take any extra swings that don’t count towards his score, but it was not exactly a rigorous routine to get dialed in before a major championship round.

The work on the putting green approximated a more customary length for a pre-round routine at a major. The physical exertion there is limited and with two hands on the club, the cigarette is safely snug in the mouth as the head stays still over the ball. On the putting green, Daly had a run in with a grinning Kevin Na. It’s unclear if Daly and Na have a friendly relationship or any relationship at all. What is clear is that a day prior, Na retorted “no u just fat lol” in the comments of Daly saying “It sucks getting old” in a social media post. Daly did not seem to be as gleeful during the run-in on the putting green. John Daly and shame have never been closely related, but it has looked like and sounded like Daly has some shame and self-consciousness and hurt from comments like Tiger’s jab about playing on a broken leg without using a cart.

After some practice putting, Daly, with the Yankees logo plastered all over his pants and the Trump logo on his sleeve and a McDonald’s cup in his hand, struggled to step up into the Cadillac Escalade that would shuttle him to the 10th tee and his other four-wheel transportation for the day. Some combo of the Yankees, Trump, McDonald’s, a Cadillac, and debilitating osteoarthritis would probably relate at this New York muni.

During the short appearance on the range as he strolled down the line, Cameron Champ could be spotted on the other side of Daly’s paunch. Champ is the current moment’s mythical power talent. He is a perfectly cut athlete that launches rockets into the sky and regularly bombs drives pushing 400 yards with the modern equipment. The juxtaposition of the legendary bomber strolling past the bomber du jour was conspicuous. Champ might carry a protein shake onto the range instead of super size McDonald’s cup, but it remains to be seen if he’ll ever have the game to win a PGA or an Open at St. Andrews, as Daly once did.

That past show of natural talent, history of success, and the intervening years are the context that makes this just look so sad. At the prior men’s major championship this year, the phrase “self-sabotage” became the focus of the pre-Masters discussion as analyst Brandel Chamblee critiqued Brooks Koepka for losing weight for an alleged magazine spread in the middle of the season in the middle of his prime. Daly is the connoisseur of self-sabotage and that’s why his cart use at a major is complicated. Were this some club pro or an up-and-coming talent that earned his way into the field but had a health condition that required a cart, there would be far less eye-rolling and jeering from Tiger. Daly’s history of self-sabotage and sideshow stunts complicate things, especially if you’re another player trying to win a major walking a massive course that’s an exhausting test.

Brad Penner-USA TODAY Sports

The truth is Daly is no serious threat to win or even compete, with a cart or without one. It should not be a controversy even if it may bother a few of his fellow competitors. He deserves his spot and earned it based on past brilliance. His 4-over 75 has him in a tie for 112th but it is a respectable score better than a handful of players at the top of the world rankings. If he wants to play and can play, then he should. The still photos with the cigs and McDonalds in the cupholder have made this PGA more entertaining. But given how melancholy he looked on Thursday as he tried to weave his cart through the crowding fans, it’s hard to find a winning argument for why he’s even bothering with it.

When Daly was cruising, he often rolled around with his left leg hanging limp off the side of the cart in the way your parents might yell at you for with some tale about how they knew a guy who mangled his ankle doing that. He did not look happy, but at least he looked casual. When the cart stopped and he had to put it in park, however, felt like a moment of reckoning each time. At the 18th, he grimaced in pain as he put it in park and struggled to lower himself the 10 or 12 inches from the floor of the cart to the floor of Bethpage Black. It looked painful and he muttered “fuck” under his breath as he stepped down to the turf just moments after a fan shouted “I want to be John Daly when I grow up.”

That was a shout heard several times even as the subject of the admiration looked downright miserable. Everyone around him in these New York crowds at this open-to-the-public New York course hollered with delight as JD rolled around the PGA Championship. The person who looked like he was having the least fun with all of it was the inspiration for everyone else’s enjoyment.