Daly (69) still out there hacking

John Daly is sick. He is coughing. He is unshaven. He is wearing a windbreaker the size of a spinnaker. He smoked only four cigarettes while he played his opening round Thursday at Riviera Country Club.

He says that's the reason he's coughing.

"If I'd have smoked my usual two packs, you wouldn't hear me coughing," he said.

Granted, this isn't the normal human reaction, but then you have to toss conventional wisdom right out the window when the topic is Daly.

His week got off to a typically unconventional start. Daly had no problem switching his pro-am tee time Wednesday with Phil Mickelson for an earlier time because it meant he had an extra hour to play with. He went to a Willie Nelson concert at the Nokia Theater. So Daly isn't about to complain, even though he really has a bunch of reasons that surely would give him permission.

His ribs still hurt nearly a year after he injured them at the Honda Classic, when he stopped his club in his downswing after hearing a fan click a camera. He is considering suing the golf course.

His invitations to tournaments have dropped, partially because he keeps missing cuts.

He lost 84 Lumber as a sponsor, and even worse, he lost Hooters. If there was ever a prototype sponsor for Daly, this was it.

And now it's gone. Back in the day, the Daly high point for sponsors was the time he wore logos on his shirt for TrimSpa and Dunkin Donuts at the same time, which Daly compared to simultaneously endorsing Alcoholics Anonymous and Budweiser.

Daly is still trudging on, as his playing opportunities and sponsors shrink, unlike his waistline. He's making a go of it, even if it's on a low-nicotine, high-anxiety diet that's not even half right.

As sickly as Daly felt with flu, he still posted a two-under 69 in the Northern Trust Open, and that's despite a bogey at the into-the-wind 18th.

He also made it up all 53 of the railroad tie steps from the back of the 18th green to the level practice area behind the clubhouse without stopping once to catch his breath, have a smoke or wallow in misery.

Maybe Daly knew the treat that was waiting for him. After he signed his scorecard, he ducked into a cubicle just off the hallway, the one with 15 boxes of doughnuts stacked on a table, and dug into one. It was glazed.

Meanwhile, there's no way to sugarcoat what's happening to Daly.