But I have also been there when the clouds gather and the heavy rain comes and you have to put the top up and it gets cold and dark and you run out of cigarettes and you can't see beyond your headlights and the road becomes a twisting trail that leads nowhere and you have to pull off onto the emergency lane and puke your guts out because you're afraid if you don't, you will choke on your own fear. For people like us, the middle road is hard to find. Fortunately, the world has become a kinder place for those of us who cannot indulge in such things. Stigmas have been replaced by support groups. We wear our flaws on our sleeves like stripes earned in battle.
Anonymity is an option.
That, however, is not so for people like John Daly. When Daly stepped to the first tee at Crooked Stick Country Club in the 1991 PGA Championship, his life changed for better or worse with one big swing of a golf club. When he hit his first drive that Thursday morning, he was nobody. By Sunday, when he knocked in the winning putt, he was somebody. And every day of his life thereafter has been chronicled for all of us to devour.