ItIt was a lovely television moment. David Feherty, the whimsical Northern Irish golfer- turned-CBS golf commentator-turned-popular golf writer-turned-Golf Channel inquisitor, had just tiptoed over the
tangle of cables that crossed the dim floor like mangrove
roots. He was now sitting comfortably in the lodge of a
3,000-acre man-cave on the edge of a Texas town that bills
itself the Black-Eyed Pea Capital of the World.
In the hot seat opposite him—more aptly “polar-opposite”
him or, as Feherty might crack, “bipolar-opposite” him—was
Bobby Knight, once the most truculent of college basketball
coaches, handy with both expletives and folding chairs.
For the last 30 minutes Feherty had been peppering Knight
with faintly impertinent questions about everything from his
short game to the differences between golf and basketball. “In
basketball, the hole is in the air,” observed Feherty. “How is
that even possible?” At the next break in the taping, he tells
Knight, sotto voce, “Sometimes I ask dumb f------ questions.”
The cameramen change reels and Feherty, with tape roll-
ing again, abruptly shifts gear. Fixing a serious gaze on the
retired coach, he asks: “Why were you such a f------ lunatic
at times?”
Knight’s eyes glow in recognition of the sarcasm, and he
smiles appreciatively. This is clearly the set-up he has been
waiting for; it’s as if he just knocked back a triple-shot of
espresso; it’s the point in a game when the ref makes a bad
call and all hell breaks loose.
The angriest voice in sports, at full belt, has immense
carrying power, and the entire lodge grinds to a halt while
everyone listens. Knight enlists every member of the cam-
era crew as a witness: “Because I absolutely f------ wanted
to win, that’s why!”
As Feherty giggles gleefully, Knight roars, “And that was
a dumb f------ question.”
Flashing a grin that’s broad and diabolical, Feherty says,
“See, I told you.”
GOLF WORLD:
David, if you could change
one rule in golf, what would it be?
FEHERTY:
You should be allowed to
tackle your opponent.
In the two years since “Feherty” debuted, the half-
interview, half-improv gabfest has emerged as Golf Channel’s
only must-see original programming and its host has
become the game’s first crossover TV star. Other guests on
what Feherty calls his “televised nervous breakdown” have
ranged from Annika Sorenstam to Samuel L. Jackson, from
Billy Casper to Bill Clinton, who claims to be Feherty’s big-
gest fan. “You must have a lot of spare time on your hands,”
Feherty told the 42nd president. “You clearly left the cup-
board bare in media advisors if you’re doing this show.”
As a talker, Feherty is lavish and inexhaustible. He
cascades opinions on any subject, from belly putters to
belly lox, punctuating his effusions with goofy faces, strange
sounds and grand, intense gestures. So broad is his appeal
that CBS even asked him to audition as Andy Rooney’s
replacement on “ 60 Minutes.” The fact that Feherty didn’t
make the cut may have had less to do with his Q score, a
celebrity popularity rating system, than his mordant choice
of material. In one bit he offered three situations in which
it’s permissible to laugh at a funeral: “One was that you
didn’t like the deceased,” he recalls. “Two, if the pallbearers
drop the casket.” He can’t remember the third.
The joy of Feherty is that he’s a free spirit. In a sport
known for its humorless straight-arrows, he’s madcap and
relentlessly mischievous. There’s a primitive, unreconstructed schoolboy in him, who likes jokes about farts and
testicles and the rude bits of female anatomy. And, as the
British comedian John Cleese once said of a fellow funnyman, he can tear it off by the yard.
Acutely attuned to the ways in which his own tortured
past has shaped his outlook, the 54-year-old Feherty suffers
fools goofily, which makes for unexpected and disconcerting
TV. But for all the mugging and slapstick, his interviews
can be as languidly brilliant as his tournament commen-
tary. He’s affectionate, but not infatuated; admiring, but not
adoring. There’s a genuine sympathy there, a real warmth
that combines with his reckless sense of fun. “It’s David’s
ability to be open and create raw and very real moments
that makes him special,” says Golf Channel president Mike
McCarley. “Because he’s so willing to reveal his flaws, his
guests are more willing to reveal theirs.”
Knight agrees. “David puts you at ease,” he said after their
summit. “He’s not mean-spirited, and he won’t throw you
under the bus. I’ve never spent a more enjoyable time being
