Evening is closing in on the Monday after Easter and golf’s silver-haired, self-styled Lazarus is starting to stiffen up. ‘My back,’ John Daly says with a wince.
The bad news? The 59-year-old is only a few hours into a long week at Top Dawg Tavern, a bar just off Washington Road in Augusta where he has set up camp ahead of the Masters. The good news? Early evidence suggests this great survivor might have masterminded yet another resurrection.
Daly has not competed for a Green Jacket in 20 years but he remains one of golf’s headline attractions and his appearances remain one of the unique traditions of Masters week. ‘‘It’s awesome, I love it,’ Daly tells the Daily Mail. ‘I love Augusta, I love the people.’
For most of the past three decades, the two-time major champion has parked up outside Hooters across the street and invited fans to say hello, crack open a drink and empty their wallets. The restaurant was his second home and those visits became a bonkers, brilliant window into the American soul. Back in November, however, the Augusta Hooters was torn down.
That sparked fears for Daly’s annual pilgrimage. But this is a man who has battled alcoholism and cancer, who developed sepsis after a spider bite, who has had more than a dozen surgeries in the past decade and who is rarely seen without a cigarette – between his lips or his fingers. As he once put it: ‘I’m like Lazarus, I just keep coming back from the f***ing dead.’
So when Hooters was reduced to another anonymous patch of patio – it now serves as a parking lot for the Masters – Daly simply rolled away the stone and hopped across to another sprawling strip mall. To a spot where the waitresses dress rather more conservatively but, crucially, wings remain on the menu.
We are still barely a mile from the perma-green fairways of Augusta National and a line has formed at the Top Dawg Tavern. Daly, his fiancee, Anna, and his former caddie, Lance Odom, are flogging a vast catalogue of customized merchandise.
Among the items on offer? T-shirts ($40), caps ($40), lighters (two for $10), books ($20), golf gloves ($20) and guitar plectrums ($20). Almost everything carries Daly’s face or name or one of his catchphrases such as ‘grip it & rip it.’ By the time it’s paid for, everything carries his signature.
It is a fairly chaotic setup: out on the patio, mementos are piled high on tables as Daly – fueled by cans of his Good Boy Vodka iced tea and lemonade – hobbles between a makeshift cash register and center stage.
By now, though, his small team has built a slick operation: Anna – Daly’s partner of two decades – helps fans pick out their favorites, Daly signs it and then flashes a smile – everyone who buys something gets a photo with the golf legend; Odom is resident photographer.
Daly arrived in Augusta on Saturday and he will be here every day for a week. He has a giant RV in the parking lot and his supplies include a packet of Marlboro Red, a Hooters lighter and a Hooters cooler that includes rolls of spare receipts.
They burn through hundreds an hour while TVs show silent press conferences from up the road and, inside, a man plays his guitar and harmonica. Daly took his chance to sing karaoke over the weekend.
His hours are loosely 9-5 but the line rarely dies down. Fans are young, old, local and international and they have all come to see a 59-year-old whose hair curls around his ears and down towards a long-white beard. On Thursday and Friday evening, Daly will be at Topgolf – a few miles from here – to mingle with more supporters.
Who can blame him for commercializing his lifestyle and his legend? They do a roaring trade – $20,000 an hour, apparently – and over a couple of hours on Monday, Daly pauses the conveyor belt only for a bathroom break and a brief chat with the Daily Mail.
‘It’s good to have the fans on your side,’ Daly says. ‘You just have to be honest with them.’
How else to explain why they still turn up, 20 years on from his last trip around Augusta National? Why else would drivers holler and honk as they head down Washington Road?
‘I just never lied to them – when I screw up, I tell them I screw up, and I take the blame. And when I do things good, they love it,’ he explains. This is one of Daly’s favorite weeks of the year.
‘Especially when I played,’ he said. ‘I love Augusta, I love the people. The Masters is a tournament that never leaves its home. It’s the only major that stays at home.’
Last March, Hooters filed for bankruptcy after accumulating nearly $400million in debt. The restaurant chain sold all its restaurants to a franchise group backed by the Hooters founders and Daly says: ‘We’re coming back… I don’t know if we’re going to come here. But I love Hooters.’ He is grateful to Top Dawg Tavern for having him, too.
Among the priciest items at this Augusta pop-up are $100 flags commemorating his victories at the 1995 Open Championship and the 1991 PGA Championship, when – as an unknown 25-year-old – he snuck into the field as the ninth alternate and won.
On Monday afternoon, however, few people wanted to talk about those trips around Crooked Stick or St Andrews. Daly’s appeal never could be illustrated on a scorecard or leaderboard.
Fans fell in love with his overswing, his booming drives, his garish outfits, his easy charm and his disdain for the often stuffy, sanitized traditions of professional golf. The ‘Daly Vibe,’ as his signs and merchandise call it.
An observer once claimed that over 18 holes, Daly put away 21 cigarettes, 12 Diet Cokes and six packets of M&Ms. ‘I cannot stand drinking water,’ the 59-year-old previously claimed. He has long preferred a beer and a smoke and a bet.
Around a decade ago, Daly said he was ‘shocked’ to discover that between 1992 and 2007 he had lost around $55m gambling.
At Top Dawg Tavern, he is recouping some of that money, one cap and jet torch refillable lighter at a time. A small trailer beside their pop-up contains box after box of merchandise.
Odom claims they sold out last year. At Hooters during the 2024 Masters, he flogged around $780,000 of gear and, over a couple of hours on Monday, his fiancee is forced to make several trips to restock.
Some might wonder what Daly could have won had he shown such breathless dedication to his day job.
‘So John, do you sleep for a week after this?’ one older fan asks. Impossible, Daly points out. He has the Senior PGA Championship next weekend in Florida. His 22-year-old son, John II, recently made his PGA Tour debut.
Today, Daly Snr is wearing a gold necklace and a gold bracelet and every few seconds he pops the lid of a gold marker pen to sign something bought by another happy punter.
In previous years, they have gifted him onions, cheese, and a painting. On Monday, the crowd includes one fan from Australia and another from Manchester, England. ‘We drink a lot – just not as much as John!’ the Brit says. That draws a chuckle from the golf legend, who turns down a tip and hands over another plectrum instead.
It is tiring, thirsty work and every now and then, a waitress arrives armed with another bucket of cans. Before long, a couple of hours have passed and the line isn’t showing any sign of shrinking.
So how does his body cope? After all these years and all those scrapes, how does Daly have the energy to keep signing and smiling? The answer, Odom suggests, is simple: ‘Drinking and smoking, baby!’
At one point, Daly takes a huge glug from his can, chucks it in the trash before popping his pen lid once more. He later turns to his former caddie with a question about their bucket of refreshments. ‘You going to have one?’ Daly asks. ‘Or what you going to do? Be a p****y?’