‘Wild Thing’ Daly was an endearing underdog to Scots
JOHN DALY was never one to over-complicate matters. When asked about how he might navigate his way around the Old Course at St Andrews in 1995, his response was simple and straightforward. ‘I just hit it as hard as I can, and if I find the ball, I hit it again,’ said Daly, who had carved a reputation as the biggest hitter on tour at that point, regularly bombing drives over 300 yards.
His approach may have been unrefined and unpolished, much like his life away from the golf course, but there was no doubt it could be wonderfully effective when it all clicked.
And so begins the story of how a man who became known as the ‘Wild Thing’ managed to tame the links at St Andrews with one of the most remarkable victories of modern times.
America’s Daly arrived in Scotland with no real form to speak of. He was without a top-10 finish all year on the PGA Tour.
His record in The Open was similarly lamentable, finishing dead last in two of his three previous appearances in the championship.
He had lost the form which had seen him claim his first major four years earlier when he triumphed in the USPGA Championship at Crooked Stick Golf Club.
But Daly’s problems ran far deeper than the numbers being written on a scorecard. Away from the golf course, his life had spiralled out of control.
He had an alcohol addiction and was in recovery by the time he touched down in Scotland in the summer of 1995.
Daly never sought to hide his problems. He lived his life in full view of the public, warts and all, and never deviated from his working-class roots.
‘There’s no skeletons in my closet,’ he said some years later. ‘I feel good about that. I feel like letting it all out. If you mess up, just say you messed up. Tell the truth.’
He began the week at St Andrews as a 66-1 outsider, but the Scottish galleries found an endearing quality in this rogue underdog.
Maybe it was the blond mullet and rebellious persona. Or the fact he would regularly chain-smoke his way through a pack of 20 cigarettes during a round.
Or perhaps it was his infamous ‘grip-it-and-rip-it’ approach that would see him over-swing the club around his neck in attempt to obliterate the golf ball and hit it as far as possible.
Or the fact that he loved a drink and a bet, two things which caused no end of trouble throughout his life. Whatever it was, there was something in Daly that the common man could identify with.
He opened his account with a five under par round of 67 to hold a share of the lead after the first round. Yet, still, few believed he would win from there.
Prior to 1995, the four previous Opens to be held at St Andrews told a story. Jack Nicklaus had won twice, with Seve Ballesteros and Nick Faldo winning the other two.
In other words, it was a venue where the cream typically rose to the top. Only the truly elite golfers won around the Old Course in those days, but Daly would buck that trend quite spectacularly.
‘It’s a golf course you either love or you just absolutely hate,’ said Daly of St Andrews. ‘Personally I love it. It’s an easy golf course until the wind blows. Then it becomes impossible.’
By the time Sunday afternoon arrived, Daly had manoeuvred himself into the prime position. He held a two-shot lead on the 17th tee, before a bogey reduced it to a one-shot advantage over the Italian Costantino Rocca.
He parred the last, with Rocca, playing in the group behind him, making a miraculous up-and-down from a treacherous spot at the side of the green on the 17th to hang on to his coat-tails.
If that was good, then what happened next at the 18th was truly extraordinary. It remains the stuff of Open Championship folklore.
Knowing that he needed a birdie to tie Daly, Rocca completely fluffed his chip into the infamous Valley of Sin which sits immediately before the 18th green at St Andrews.
His chances had gone. Or so it seemed, only to then hole a miraculous 60-foot putt from off the green.
Daly and Rocca then engaged in a four-hole play-off, but it was all an anti-climax. The Italian suffered another meltdown, paving the way for Daly to win by the comfortable margin of four shots.
It remains one of the most remarkable passages of play in the long and storied history of the Open Championship, and all the more so given some of the detail in Daly’s story.
As he continued his recovery from alcoholism, he revealed afterwards that he had been gorging on Otis Spunkmeyer Chocolate Chip Muffins due to sugar cravings and withdrawal symptoms.
Wilson Pickett also played an unlikely cameo, with Daly revealing that he and his wife Paulette had spent the week dancing in their hotel room to songs by the legendary American soul singer.
It sounds like a scene from The Commitments. Yet, on the subject of movies, Daly would surely be more Tin Cup.
A real-life Roy McAvoy, he infamously dumped six shots into the water on a par five at Bay Hill in 1998, eventually carding an 18.
Ever the entertainer, Daly was asked after his triumph at St Andrews how he had prepared for the final round knowing that he had the chance to wrap up a second major before the age of 30.
‘Five or six chocolate croissant things’ were devoured for breakfast. ‘They’re those good kind,’ he said. ‘The kind you can get at Shell stations back home.’
A victory built on chocolate muffins, croissants, Wilson Pickett CDs and sheer raw talent could only belong to someone like Daly. A maverick who invariably marched to the beat of his own drum.