The tale of the quest, in which a hero travels great distances and overcomes many obstacles, is common to the literature of every nation; Homer’s Odyssey, King Arthur and the Holy Grail, Jason and the Argonauts, Hootie and the Blowfish–wait, they belong further down in this article.
When I first learned, several years ago, that bad boy golfer John Daly had recorded a country CD that included a song titled “All of My Exes Wear Rolexes,” I knew my life had reached a proverbial fork in the road; I could continue along the same dull, dead-end path I had followed to that point, or I could strike out in a new direction. I resolved then and there that I would not rest until I owned a copy.
In case you don’t know who John Daly is, he is a professional golfer, a long-ball hitter currently who once served a six-month suspension from the PGA Tour for the sort of ticky-tacky misconduct that would get you detention in high school–hitting a tee shot off a beer can, for example. He is a larger-than-life figure, and when he goes off his diet, he’s larger than death, too. For many men who have to go to work every day and follow orders, he’s an inspiration, the guy who gets to do things they never will. As a business lawyer, I can assure you that women rarely come up to me and ask me to autograph certain popular female body parts. Best I get is somebody asking me to notarize a bunch of documents.
Daly is known for his “non-country club appearance,” according to Wikipedia, most notably as depicted in an orange prison jumpsuit last year when he was taken into custody after passing out at a Hooters restaurant in Winston-Salem, N.C.
Orange is the new black.
John is a rebel in a sport whose most colorful participants have the personality of a National Honor Society Vice President. I sympathize, because on the rare occasions when I try to play golf, I inevitably break some rule I’ve never heard of.
I once tried to take my kids golfing at a hotel course and was told we needed a separate bag for each player. Since we only owned two sets of clubs, we couldn’t play. Another time, we were refused access to a public course built on a landfill because my kids didn’t have on collared shirts. “Back when this was a landfill,” I asked the pro (and I use the term advisedly), “did the garbage men have to wear collared shirts when they came to dump a load?”
So John Daly is my kind of guy. And “All of My Exes Wear Rolexes”–referring to John’s tendency to acquire and then lose wives and money like a salamander shedding its skin–had to be worth the price of the CD all by itself. The CD features Hootie & the Blowfish on a couple of songs, I learned after some research, so we’ve tied up that loose end now.
And so began my quest. I searched CD Wherehouse, Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com–nothing. I looked in new and used record stores–nada. I checked eBay–zip.
I placed requests with several music search services and waited by the computer, my hair up in curlers, for the email that never came. Until last week.
If there is a unit of time shorter than a nanosecond, I beat it in replying to the question “Do you still want to purchase?” Yes, for God’s sake–and send it rush!
When the cardboard CD package arrived this week, I called up my sister, a real golfer who appreciates tacky behavior by public figures as much as I do.
“You’ll never believe what I just got,” I said breathlessly. “John Daly’s CD–It’s got ‘All of My Exes Wear Rolexes’ on it!”
“What’s the big deal?” she asked. “You can listen to it for free on LipOut.com. How much did you pay for it?”