Daly devotion
JOHN DALY. The Wild Thing. The Lion. Mr Grip it and Rip it himself. All the exes have Rolexes. The booming drives, the booming waistline. The mullet. Battles with the bottle, run-ins with authority. All things considered, the kind of sportsman you’d view with a few preconceptions.
Pity so few of them seem to fit. The John Daly sitting in a Cork hotel earlier this week was polite, drank Diet Coke and spoke in measured tones. The East German footballer’s haircut was gone as well - the blond thatch is as thick as ever, just less wayward - while the word ‘redneck’ stitched onto the collar of his shirt looked like a designer’s flourish rather than a representation of the wearer’s identification with the Deep South.
