Playboy.com has published an interesting profile of John Daly. (The link might be NSFW, so proceed with caution.) Here are some highlights, including Daly claiming he’s a nympho:

“I’m real close to being a nympho, if I’m not one,” he admits. He and ­Cladakis try to have sex at least once every day. “If I’m with somebody, I want to be with that person. I wanna have sex a lot. Anna’s been great. We’re both nymphos, I think. We like each other’s company. We like making love to each other,” he says as his eyes wander to the front door of the remote Sheboygan Falls house he’s rented west of the golf course.

If Daly isn’t the best parent to his kids, it’s because he had a rough childhood:

His upbringing was straight out of some old-school country song. Born in California, Daly and his family moved when he was four to a log cabin in Dardanelle, a tiny town in Yell County, in the middle of Arkansas. It was the ­epitome of redneck life, one in which his mother made chocolate gravy and biscuits in the kitchen and homemade shirts on her sewing machine. He and his brother Jamie would drag a trampoline up to the house so they could jump off the roof onto it, just for kicks. Their father made his own muscadine wine and stored it in mason jars. All the Daly kids risked a belt whupping when trouble came around. “I got beaten so many times by hoses, sticks and belt buckles,” he says. Now that he has three kids of his own, plus a stepson, Daly says he’s never going to be the kind of father his father was.

He fondly recounts his gambling problem:

“I was the first one to win the jackpot of $100,000. I won, like, three or four nights in a row, and I’m going, ‘I could never lose.’ Next thing you know, you lose $500,000.” He starts talking fast and furious, telling blackjack stories with the same gusto someone else might reserve for tales of catching monster tarpon. “Back when I was playing, you could play seven hands at $5,000 and have $35,000 on the table. Sometimes 10. You could have 70 grand sitting up there. You don’t have that chance on a dollar slot or playing $25 at blackjack. I won $400,000 to $500,000 in blackjack sittings,” he says mournfully.

Eventually mistakes were made. The losses started catching up with Daly. He used to have markers in six or seven casinos, he says. “I was always trying to pay markers off. I’d owe $800,000 at Bally’s or at Caesars. I was always robbing Peter to pay Paul,” he confesses.

While Daly’s been to rehab three times, it was never his fault. Don’t worry, Tim Finchem, Daly didn’t booze on the links.

“I never drank on a tournament. I’ve been hungover many times. I could play some damn good golf hungover,” he says with a laugh. “But not once have I ever drank on a golf course on tour.” If you subjected him to a random drug test right now, as he says the PGA did five times in 2010, all you’d find is a lot of caffeine, nicotine and a couple of Viagras every now and then.

He delves into the T.M.I. zone where he gives detailed accounts of his sexual escapades (including an intriguing anecdote from the Masters). I’ll let you peruse those excerpts on your own. Aside from the juicy tidbits, the article is worth a read. Whether or not Daly is looking for more attention is always debatable, but one thing’s for sure — Daly hasn’t led a boring life.

(Photo via Playboy.com)