The most entertaining moment of last year’s debut Galleri Classic may well not have occurred when inaugural winner David Toms rolled in a birdie on his 54th and final hole of the event.
Rather, said moment occurred minutes later, at the awards ceremony on the same par-5 home hole of the Dinah Shore Tournament Course, when Toms’ PGA Tour Champions’ playing colleague, John Daly, bellowing from the grandstands, tried to cajole the victor into making the famed leap into Poppie’s Pond.
That the easygoing Toms elected not to continue the famed tradition long cemented in celebratory lore by LPGA major championship winners at Mission Hills surprised few of the spectators.
That Daly was the author of such a rally cry came to the surprise of, well, nobody.
Long walking the razor’s edge between Cautionary Tale and Proletariat Paladin, the iconoclastic Daly has been a part of the game’s narrative since smashing into golf’s consciousness with his underdog major title win at the 1991 PGA Championship.
In the three-plus decades since, Daly, born in Carmichael, Calif. and raised in Dardanelle, Ark., has continued to turn heads: whether said necks swivel to gawk at his history of personal missteps, or whether heads crane to observe his near-singular skill set. Fans have long lined Daly galleries with a curiosity to see if he’ll crush a drive 350-yards . . . or crush a plate glass window and then go have beers with the homeowner.
“I don’t have any skeletons in my closet, and my fans all know that,” Daly says. “I’ve never been the guy looking over my shoulder, hoping people don’t find out about this or that. When I screw up, I say I screw up; and when I do good, my fans let everybody know. So, it’s a win-win situation for me.”
Such a ‘win-win’ has indeed seen wins, most notably Daly’s capture of a second major title at the 1995 Open Championship.
And yet: That he’d drink, smoke, divorce, gamble and sing his way to just one more Tour title in the years’ ensuing (a 2004 capture of the Buick Invitational) has undoubtedly, and understandably, caused skeptics to question aloud if attraction to vice(s) caused “Long John” a double, or even triple tally of his modest five-win Tour career.
Soon to turn 58 after the Galleri’s return to Rancho Mirage from March 29-31, 2024, Daly’s resume with the senior set includes one victory (2017). And while he may no longer be the same bomber who led the PGA Tour in driving distance on 11 occasions between 1991-2002, his popularity shows no signs of decline.
At the inaugural Galleri Classic – amid a field which included the palpable likes of Fred Couples, Bernhard Langer, Steve Stricker, Ernie Els, Vijay Singh and Padraig Harrington – it was Daly who continued to garner some of the largest galleries.
“I don’t know; you’ll have to ask the fans,” Daly says of his continued traction. “Because when you’re not playing great, the fans are the ones who can pick you up, and when you are playing great, they pump you up even more. I’ve been very blessed in that way.”
Perhaps such blessings come via the fact that as pro golfers have become richer, more disciplined, more automated in demeanor and more careful in protecting their brand. John Daly has always remained John Daly.
“The guys take it seriously; I’m more, like, just happy to be playing golf. It’s not the end of the world if you play bad,” he says. “I just want to keep my status, keep playing and grab a couple wins. I’m more laid back, but a lot of guys, they take it the way they always did on the PGA Tour, and that’s the way they play. To me . . . it’s kinda’ just a little relaxing to me: go in a cart, play golf, have some cigarettes and enjoy the company of guys I’ve played with and against for so long.”
The more pro golf changes, the more Daly stays Daly.
“When I came out on Tour with Fuzzy (Zoeller) and (Craig) Stadler and John Mahaffey, we didn’t go to the weight room. We drank a few beers and we worked our butts off on our short games,” he says. “For me, I was very lucky, hitting it 20 or 30-yards past these guys, but they were still kicking my ass because their short games were so good. So, when all these guys did start working out, I’d go chip and putt for two hours while other players were in the gym.”
Now sporting an impressive beard, Daly once quipped of his physique: “You can pull a muscle, but you can’t pull fat.”
Such an everyman build alongside lithe and lean modern players seems to only have enhanced the Daly dichotomy.
“It’s a different world; it’s all business now (on the PGA Tour),” says Daly. “Guys have a psychologist with them, a trainer, a swing coach. And God bless ‘em; if that’s what gonna’ make ‘em win, hell, I’m all for it. But, the generation I came up in, golf wasn’t a so-called ‘workout game.’”
Amid his generational prime, Mission Hills CC and the Dinah Course long proved a canvass for Daly’s prep.
“Mission Hills was kinda’ like a home for me in the wintertime, getting ready for the season,” he remembers. “I’d bought a few condos there, refurbished them, sold ‘em, made a little bit of money. I’d go out there with Johnny Cook, and a few other guys around Christmas and have a few weeks or so before the season started in Hawaii. We’d play the Dye Course, the Palmer and the Tournament Course; play all of ‘em. It was a great place to get ready; a great facility and a great way to get the year started off.”
From past to present, the LPGA’s 51-years of history at Mission was never lost on Daly.
“There are, of course, tons of great courses in the area, but the Tournament Course has so much history to it,” he continues. “People love it; the players love it. There just aren’t that many courses out there, anywhere, with a tournament history like that. And Dinah Shore was such a great lady, classy lady; it was so awesome to meet her and know her. Hopefully, with us coming in there, we can keep the history going.”
Pivoting from history to his own future, Daly knows he may well need to better his T-38 finish at the inaugural Galleri Classic.
“I need to play good this year. I’m on exemption status this year, which, I still don’t understand why. I thought my record would be good enough to be on the Champions Tour the rest of my life,” he says. “But, you’ve got the money list and got 50-year-old guys coming in every year who are just really, really good.”
Such depth of player field could soon be getting even better. Come December of 2026, Tiger Woods will turn 50.
“Tiger likes to set records, so if he’s really thinking about playing, he’s gonna try and beat Bernhard Langer’s record (46 all-time PGA Tour Champions wins),” Daly says. “I can’t speak for him and I don’t know how many events he’d play a year, but I know we want him out there. He still moves the needle more than anybody.”
As for a possible shift from Galleri grandstand jester to winning king in ’24, Daly eyes a self-deprecating dive.
“Yeah, we all tried to get Toms to jump (last year),” he concludes. “But I know that if it were me and I did a belly flop in there, all the water’s gonna’ splash out.”
