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So I Was Cleaning Out The Garage And I Found A John Daly Story…

As the title states, I was cleaning out part of my garage this weekend and I came across a SHITLOAD of things that I threw away as soon as my wife wasn’t looking. 

NOT included among that trash was a handful of pics from my “youth”, including two beauties. 

The first was the result of a race where the winner was a horse named after the blog I wrote during my time on Wall Street... The blog was called Take A Report and it got me in a fair amount of trouble. 

Unfortunately, I never met the guy(s) who owned this beautiful animal, but I was thrilled by the honor (and honored by the thrill) of having a horse kinda named after me. 

The second pic was of me and John Daly circa 2005’ish…

(I am just noticing that the resemblance between my bloated face in the picture and the thumb holding the picture is uncanny.)

A salesperson invited me to an event somewhere in New Jersey with a client who was a big golf guy. We paid up for the "Inside The Ropes" package which allowed us to walk alongside a pro for part of 18 holes.  And when I say "alongside", I mean we stood dangerously close behind the golfer as he teed off and then marched down the fairway with him, stopping maybe 2 or 3 yards short of his ball and then taking a knee as he hit his next shot. 

Even though there were hundreds of less fortunate fans just "Outside Of The Ropes" they had set up condoning off the tee boxes, parts of the fairways, and greens, it was a very intimate experience for the "Inside The Ropes" people to witness athletic greatness at such proximity. And, depending on which pro you were paired with, it was equally intimate just shooting-the-shit with a professional as he casually shattered par on a course where even Trent would struggle to break 100.

As luck would have it, our pro happened to be John Daly, who transformed the experience from "intimate" to "raucous" as soon as the round began… Please forgive me if the exact details of that day are a blur, but it was nearly 20 years ago, and I wound up getting very drunk with John Daly.

The event was sponsored by a new offshoot of the popular Heineken brand called Heineken Light… You can see John holding a bottle in the picture I attached above. The description of their new light beer was: "With just 90 calories, Heineken® Light is brewed with Cascade hops and our signature Heineken A-Yeast® for the crisp, refreshing flavor, subtle bitterness, and clean finish."

My description was, "It tasted like shit", but it was the only beer they offered at the event, and they offered it EVERYWHERE, with promotional coolers set up every 200 yards.

We were 3 or 4 holes in, and both John and I were 5 beers deep, and that's when Daly asked me a question as I reached into a cooler for my 6th…"Son, how do you like them things?"

I wasn't used to being called 'son' by a guy only 4 years older than me, but I answered back, "To be honest, I don't like them… But they're okay when they're ice cold, I guess."

To which Daly answered, "Yeah… But everything is better when it's ice cold."

Then he put a tee into the ground, took no practice swing, and right before he ripped a monster drive, he looked back at me and said, "Unless we're talking about pussy."

That nonchalant comment brought the house down with everyone who was within earshot… And you could tell by the jealous stares that the group following Jim Furyk one tee box over were so fucking bummed they weren't hanging out with us.

In the weeks following the event, I kept coming up with witty retorts that I could've said. The best was probably, "I don't know, John, I spent a winter working in a morgue with no security cameras, and cold pussy isn't as bad as you'd think."

But that day, I said NOTHING because I was so pleasantly dumbstruck by the warm pussy comment Daly had casually uttered before absolutely STRIPING his drive.

Giphy Images.


And that's it…That's the blog.

There are a MILLION John Daly stories out there better than the one I just told, but this one would've been lost in the ether if I hadn't come across this photo, so I had to share.

Now, get out there and hit 'em straight before you go home to an ice-cold beer and (hopefully) a lukewarm vagina.

Giphy Images.

Take a report.


Want more of a trip down memory lane?… No?… Me neither.

So here's a podcast on horses…