A down-on-his-luck pro golfer played by Owen Wilson spots a teenage phenom and decides to coach him to greatness in the Apple TV+ comedy “Stick.” A few decades back, in the ’80s and ’90s, writer-director Ron Shelton used to be the go-to for this subgenre, including 1996’s “Tin Cup,” a movie with which “Stick” has plenty in common: The wry sports comedy about a shaggy dog of a guy hoping to find a small measure of redemption.
Created by “Ford vs. Ferrari” screenwriter Jason Keller, “Stick” isn’t doing anything groundbreaking, it’s just a really good version of this kind of thing. It’s incredibly charming and has a way of growing on you.
Pryce Cahill was a major player on the tour earlier in his career before a personal tragedy led to his flameout. A divorce followed and he’s about to lose his house. His reduced circumstances see him driving an aging yellow Corvette that’s seen better days and working in a pro shop, selling middle-aged guys on expensive golf clubs they do not need. But his sales patter — expertly doling out the bull — is unmatched. To bring in a few more bucks, he hustles fellow barflies into challenging him to a trick shot. (This scene is either a ripoff of a similar bit in “Tin Cup” or a nod to it; in “Stick,” the moment serves a different narrative purpose, so let’s go with the latter.)
Pryce is trying his best to keep his game face intact — everything’s fine — but the man is struggling. Then one day at the driving range, he hears someone crush ball after ball. He turns around and goes to investigate. To his surprise, he finds that it’s a teenager and the kid has an incredible swing. His name is Santiago, or Santi for short (played by Peter Dager), with attitude to spare and the kind of artfully tousled hair that says “I don’t care (but I really do care).”
Pryce convinces him to compete on the amateur tour, so they pile into an RV — Pryce and Santi, plus Santi’s spikey mom Elena (Mariana Treviño) and her little dogs — and hit the road for eight weeks. Also joining them is Mitts, Pryce’s semi-grounchy, semi-cuddly former caddie and best friend (Marc Maron). A young bartender they meet along the way, named Zero (Lilli Kay), makes a connection with Santi and decides to come along for the adventure.
There are triumphs and setbacks. Pryce and Santi’s dynamic is a stop-start process of gaining trust. They both have hurt and anger and regrets that have built up over the years that each has tried to suppress. But you can never completely run from those feelings; they always find a way of coming out. As a group, the quintet is a small collection of misfits who slowly but surely realize that maybe they fit when they’re together.
I like that the series considers the psychology of competing at this level when you’re still a kid; despite the teenage success of athletes such as Serena Williams and Tiger Woods, not everyone responds well to a hard-charging father figure as a coach. Santi is at the age where he can be sweet or sulky, depending on who knows what. He’s young and impressionable and doesn’t deal with setbacks well, which is appropriate because he’s 17. His time on the tour is a process of figuring some of that out, and for Pryce as well. Golf specifically can be so deeply frustrating and “Stick” captures that.
Timothy Olyphant plays a smarmy golf pro whose had the kind of career Pryce should have had, and the guy is insufferably self-satisfied (Olyphant is having a ball with the role), but, by design, even the villains in “Stick” aren’t one-note.
I don’t love the reductive Gen X vs. Gen Z stuff that initially plays out between Mitts and Zero (the latter of whom uses they/them pronouns and doesn’t eat meat, much to Mitts’ consternation) and there’s a late reveal that puts a temporary wedge between Santi and Pryce that feels too minor to be believable. If Keller wanted to explore Santi’s trust issues, the betrayal needs to be something that feels like an actual betrayal.
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But the show is doing so much right. It introduces storylines and themes and then develops them, which sounds obvious but is lacking in too many series at the moment. And I deeply appreciate that the season’s arc ends with a resolution. That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for future seasons, just that Keller understands the wonderful satisfaction of giving audiences a complete story that also has places to go if it’s renewed. I’ve seen comparisons to “Ted Lasso,” but tonally the show is less prone to mugging (and better for it), and it’s a far superior series to something like “Shrinking” (both it and “Ted Lasso” are Bill Lawrence shows for Apple), which exists in the same thematic and stylistic neighborhood, but is too smug and cutesy for its own good. “Stick” isn’t pulling any of that garbage. Again, it’s not reinventing the wheel, but that’s not a bar a television show needs to clear, necessarily, when it’s this well made.
The series hinges on Wilson’s performance and he’s played a version of this guy many times before. Laconic, good-natured, chatty. A bit of a b.s. artist, but not a bad guy. Just someone who is muddling through. Even when he’s agitated, he’s easygoing. Wilson has such a light touch with the charming-but-flawed men he tends to play — usually just pleasantly knocking around — and Wilson’s particular talent is ensuring that the performance never tips over into a flakiness that can read as vacant. All of that technique is poured into Pryce Cahill with wildly enjoyable results.
“Stick” — 4 stars (out of 4)
Where to watch: Apple TV+
Nina Metz is a Tribune critic.
