Michael Ventre

History is clear that this country’s preeminent slob is John “Bluto” Blutarsky, played with Jello-sucking verve by the late John Belushi in the film “National Lampoon’s Animal House.” Blutarsky was the Michael Jordan of oafs, the Tiger Woods of pigs.

Of course, most of his antics came during his college years, when such behavior is not only allowed but often encouraged. Even Blutarsky — as fans of the films as well as history buffs know — grew up to become a U.S. Senator. Politicians almost always keep their adult debauchery private, unless there’s a federal wiretap involved.

But some Blutarskys never grow up. Instead, it’s college all the time. Keggers at noon, cheeseburgers by the carload, buxom lasses with lascivious tastes and wild spending habits, cigarette after cigarette, and most of all, a total lack of concern for the future.

Alas, John Daly has become Blutarsky, only without the dignity. What he has done with his career is the sports equivalent of stuffing his face with food and then slamming his cheeks with his hands to simulate the popping of a pimple.

Recently Butch Harmon, the esteemed swing guru who has worked with many of the game’s greatest players — including Tiger Woods — washed his hands of Daly. Harmon told the Associated Press: “My whole goal for him was he’s got to show me golf is the most important thing in his life. And the most important thing in his life is getting drunk.”

Bay Hill Club & Lodge An aerial view of all 18 holes at the private golf resort in Florida owned by Arnold Palmer.   1st hole   2nd hole   3rd hole   4th hole   5th hole   6th hole   7th hole   8th hole   9th hole   10th hole   11th hole   12th hole   13th hole   14th hole   15th hole   16th hole   17th hole   18th hole

Aside from the shock of Harmon publicly calling out his former pupil, the statement reeks of unfairness. How does he know what’s most important in Daly’s life? At any given moment, it could be a stripper, or a bag of pork rinds, or a $20,000 wager on red 19.

Harmon is being ripped in some quarters because he had the audacity to say out loud what everybody has known for years now: Daly is out of control, and he likes it.

Harmon went off after Daly spent a rain delay at a recent tournament working on his swing inside the Hooters corporate tent at the 17^th green. Apparently, everyone was swinging in there. When the rain stopped, Daly had Tampa Bay Buccaneers coach Jon Gruden caddying for him, which I guess is preferable to Daly serving as a coach for Gruden. Daly finished that first round with a 77, then he shot himself out of the tournament with an 80 in the second round.

One day after Harmon’s rant, Daly tossed more moonshine on the fire by missing his pro-am tee time at the Arnold Palmer Invitational and was disqualified from the tournament. That’s Arnold Palmer, as in the most distinguished golfer walking the earth, whose namesake event a troubled entrant disgraces at his own peril.

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Just as the public can be reasonably sure that Tiger will dominate golf for as long as he wants to, it’s also safe to say that Daly will continue along a path to ruin. But his ultimate collapse may not be immediately noticeable to most, simply because he’s making a new career out of being a failure.

He gets into tournaments now via sponsor exemptions, because he no longer has his full PGA Tour card. Sponsors want him at their events because he not only is a disaster magnet, he also attracts fans who revel in his trailer park charm and sympathize with his working class woes. They seek out photos with him and get autographs from him so they can say they once touched someone who once touched greatness.

That’s right, touched greatness. Daly won the PGA Championship in 1991 and the British Open in ’95. One major can be written off as a fluke. Two indicates the potential to be one of the best. Unless a golfer’s swing goes the way of Ian Baker-Finch’s, the only explanation for not living up to his promise is an inability to recognize personal demons and/or the unwillingness to fight them. In Daly’s case, he likes to take his demons out for beers.

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