Gravity Man whiffs.
"Not much," says Feherty.
Gravity Man whiffs again. "I'm terrible," he says.
"Don't talk yourself down," Feherty says in a soothing tone. "That's my job."
He pulls up beside a threesome whose mouths are only slightly filthier than their FootJoys. One tells a joke about a pedophile; the second, a prisoner; the third, Brad Pitt. Feherty tops them all with one about two Irishmen and a sausage.
Just as he's about to drive off, his cellphone rings. "Honey, I parked my truck at the airport," Feherty says. "Sorry I didn't say goodbye before I left.... I didn't want to wake you.... I love you, too." He hangs up. "In case you were wondering," he tells the jokers, "that was McCord."
THE COCKTAIL HOUR
It's said that a life of complete self-indulgence, if led with the whole heart, may also bring wisdom. Feherty, whose beverage of choice has always been Bushmills Irish Whiskey, found the palace of wisdom a chilly place. He quit drinking--cold turkey--in January. "I'd become a bloated half-man, half-mattress," he tells a woman at the courtyard reception. "My kids actually used me as furniture."
Nonetheless, the reputation of hell-raiser clings to him like a fly to butter. When offered a highball, he politely declines. "It's amazing what happens when you're sober at midnight," he explains. "You go to bed."
Unlike most recovering lushes, he steadfastly refuses to repent his former ways. On the contrary, he remembers them with huge affection. "I was the Tiger Woods of drinking--I consumed a bottle and a half a day," he tells a member of the catering crew. "My liver was so shot that I actually asked Pat Summerall for his old one."
Did you ever think of getting help?