ESPN documentary 'Hit It Hard' shows the many sides of John Daly

“My life changed in four days. That doesn’t happen to too many people.”

John Daly has become a human punch line, a cautionary tale, written off as a rube who never realized he was the butt of the joke. But as we see “Hit It Hard,” the new documentary in ESPN’s uniformly strong, often outstanding 30-for-30 series, Daly is in on the joke, both maniacal driver and bewildered passenger on the barreling RV that is his life and career.

Daly came from nowhere—that would be Dardanelle, Arkansas—and surprised even himself with how quickly he cannonballed into the national consciousness. The doc provides a helpful thumbnail reminder: Daly, a burly, mulleted, dirt-lip mustachioed kid on the very farthest fringes of the PGA Tour, was the ninth alternate for the 1991 PGA Championship. He arrived at the course at 2 a.m. on the morning of his first tee time, learned he was in the field, and proceeded to shock an entire sport.

“Grip it and rip it” remains Daly’s motto, and on that weekend, he became an instant folk hero, like some kind of laboratory-grown crossbreed of Paul Bunyan, Dale Earnhardt, and John Belushi. He won the PGA Championship, became instantly rich (well, not immediately—he had to celebrate at McDonald’s because the check hadn’t cleared and he had no money), and rocketed to fame that few golfers before or since have known. It was both the best and worst thing that could have happened to him.

Daly participated in the documentary, staring straight into the camera beneath a shock of bleached-white hair, his characteristic Loudmouth clothing on full display. He narrates his own story, with assists from assorted ex-wives, agents, and fellow golfers. He doesn’t shy away from admitting his many sins, but he’s so convincing in his weathered stare that you have to wonder what he knows but isn’t telling.

Part of the reason Daly gets a pass among many fans is the fact that he’s the perpetual underdog, the slob amongst the snobs, the average joe who beats the arrogant jocks at their own game. It’s why golf fans of a certain mindset still flock to him, why he remains for many a hero and not a buffoon. The film shows an extended sequence of Daly’s annual Masters Week jaunt to Augusta, where he sets up his RV in the parking lot of a Hooters about a five-iron from Augusta National. The RV is a giant middle finger to the golf establishment, and to see Daly among these fans is to see a man in his element, honest, open, direct. Say what you will about the man, but nobody else in golf can connect with the public like that.

Golf won’t ever be the kind of extreme sport that best fits a personality like Daly’s, but it’s critical to remember that Daly came of age half a decade before anyone had even heard the name “Tiger Woods.” The PGA Tour of the early 1990s was made up of white guys born middle-aged, country-club scions who worshiped golf course propriety. Daly wasn’t just an interloper from outside the ropes, he was from outside the club’s walls, outside the Tour’s preferred caste entirely. Listen to the announcers on those old broadcasts, and you can hear them tut-tutting Daly slinging a ball into the crowd after a triumphant putt, ladling disgust on him as if he’d spit on Arnold Palmer’s shoes.

But Daly’s no passive victim. He’s pinwheeled from vice to vice, caught in the grips of addiction yet also fully aware of the destructive choices he made. He finally bottomed out in 1998, where cameras caught him shaking and weeping during a tournament, wearing a jacket despite heat in the high 80s.

The John Daly of today is a man who is, if not at peace, at least at peace with the wreckage of his life. He’s more invested in the lives of his children now, and he’s still a regular presence at the PGA Championship and the British Open, among many other tournaments. He’s eligible for the Champions Tour now, and it’s a quirk of golf that he’s got a chance for a career rebirth. The odds are very long against him, but then again, that’s been said before.

“My life changed in four days. That doesn’t happen to too many people,” is the Daly quote that sets up Hit It Hard. But the kicker follows immediately afterward: “I wasn’t ready for the aftermath. I thought I was OK, but I wasn’t ready for it.”

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Jay Busbee is a writer for Yahoo Sports and the author of EARNHARDT NATION, on sale now at Amazon or wherever books are sold. Contact him at jay.busbee@yahoo.com or find him on Twitter or on Facebook.