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Sweet Redemption
Rick Reilly
June 07, 1993
John Daly, now chugging M&M's instead of beers, is confining his hard-driving ways to the golf course
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June 07, 1993

Sweet Redemption

John Daly, now chugging M&M's instead of beers, is confining his hard-driving ways to the golf course

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He's even stopping at all the reds.

"Parents kind of go on too much sometimes, but when I tell Shynah I've been there, that I've been through it, I think she'll believe me," he says. "I'll never have alcohol in my house. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but there have been a lot of alcoholics in my family. I want the chain stopped."

The kid without direction has one now: forward.

"Nobody can know what's in my heart," he says, staring down a New Orleans sunset. "Nobody can know what I'm thinking. I know what I've got to do. If I take another drink, I'm history. It's a lot easier knowing you can't do something than knowing you shouldn't. I can't. I've got a rule: I don't drink while I'm sober."

Sadly, during our visit it happened.

Looking back on it, the surprise should've been that it took so long. After all, most of Daly's friends and family were doing it right in front of his nose. He told them to go ahead, that he was the one with the problem, not they. And yet as he watched them, he ached. It had been so long. Worse, it was sitting right there, in the middle of the kitchen table. His willpower was so skimpy that he had asked them all to watch him closely, but they were busy in conversation. They wouldn't see in time. Like somebody breaking free of shackles, he suddenly lurched for it. In an instant, it was gone. The bag of peanut M&M's.

"Gddmn ths thgs," he said.

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