After I wet myself a few weeks back, reading about John Daly’s untimely demise at the Honda classic, I gathered enough of myself to consider exactly what we were dealing with here. John Daly, even more than Tiger Woods, is the most compelling golfer of his generation. Allow me to present my case…

Way before Rick Reilly’s chapter on Daly appeared in “Who’s Your Caddie?”
the legend of Daly had grown to mythic proportions. Here was the rubber-spined, mullett-bedecked arkansian who reacted in Pavlovian fashion to the Squeeksters admonitions of “Kill, John, Kill” by winning the 1991 PGA Championship out of no-freaking-where! Fast forward to 2007, and the spine’s surrounding muscles, hardened by years of booze, mama’s chocolate gravy, cigs and diet Coke, gave out in mid-backswing as a cheap camera clicked in the background. Away went John from Honda, WD’d as had happened so many times before.

This apparent irony, dichotomy, whatever you want to call it, exemplified John’s life. Redneck at the Country Club, Hillbilly champion at stogy St. Andrews, Farm Boy on golf scholarship…you get the picture. Such a man-child, so gifted by nature in multitudinous and prodigious ways, deserved to be elevated to the pantheon of heroic figures that grace the pages of our favorite comic books.

But what to represent him? Steel had been taken by Superman, water by Aqua Man, speed by The Flash, and the list continued. Search on I did, though, until I stumbled upon the substance that defined the two faces of Daly to such perfection that my eyes began to tear up:

“a chewy or brittle candy containing almonds or other nuts and sometimes fruit.”

What is Daly if not nuts, fruity, and all other similar adjectives? Is he both chewy and brittle? Chewy in the belly, and brittle in the spine? Without doubt! My search had ended, and from the fires of your local confectionary oven, a new superhero was born…

So, brave viewers, bow to your newest member of the Hall of Justice. John Daly, NougatMan.

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