Honourable Duffy Has a 67

Duffy Waldorf stood out in the crowd Thursday at Muirfield, and not only because his 67 equaled the best round of the day. No, there’s much more to Waldorf than meets the eye, which is a load anyway.

The guy tied for the lead at the British Open wears shirts that look like he dipped them in a can of paint.

The guy tied for the lead at the British Open uses golf balls with names of his favorite custard flavors written on them.

This same player tied for the lead at the British Open wears a cap with “Duffy” embroidered in the front, perhaps so he will know that it belongs to him. As if someone else would wear a blue and white flowered cap.

It’s only Duffy, the 39-year-old in his 13th year as a pro, a UCLA guy who has won four times on the PGA Tour, but is known much more for his personality than his performances in the British Open.

This is Waldorf’s fifth trip and he’s still trying to improve on his tie for 25th in his first, in 1992, right here at Muirfield.

But there he was Thursday afternoon, strolling in the sunshine, rolling in everything in sight on the greens, taking the lead. All the while, many thoughts must have floated into that space beneath the blue and white cap.

Stay out of the bunkers ... Keep the ball on the fairway ... Where am I going to eat? ... Let’s see, three more days, three clean shirts left, I’m OK.

Waldorf did not make a bogey. He parred the first eight holes, then played the next 10 in four under. After that, he did three quick television interviews, two more radio interviews, then went to the media interview room for more conversation.

If nothing else, Duffy is an accomplished talker, but you can be sure that it’s not so much what he’s saying, but what he wears that is steaming up a few monocles around here.

The centuries-old Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers is the club that runs Muirfield and, like Duffy, they’re easy to spot, although in an entirely different way.

They are the gentlemen in the blue blazers, the blue shirts, the red ties and wearing the round, red buttons that signify their status as HCEG members.

They are stuffy, he is Duffy.

Meanwhile, in his Hawaiian-style gear, Duffy looks like the guy who sets up your lounge chair at the hotel pool and brings you a towel.

Of course, looks aren’t everything. Just don’t mention it to the officials in charge here.

Some people thought that it might have been the Royal and Ancient Golf Club’s worst nightmare when John Daly won their championship at storied St. Andrews in 1995.

The feeling was that they would have had to sweat it out like crazy to see if Daly would grab the Claret Jug, fill it with jellybeans or something, then announce he would defend his title only if they moved the tournament to Arkansas.

At least Daly wears clothes that don’t appear to need watering. Waldorf’s wardrobe is something else indeed. Imagine if he somehow won Sunday. The Honourable Company would come rushing out of the ancient clubhouse and throw their jackets over Duffy’s shoulders, before someone’s retinas were burned by the intensity of his lava red shirt.

In fact, they would probably invite a woman to become a member before they would ask him.

Duffy is the anti-Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers, which is a good thing.

Maybe he could win them over by discussing his collection of fine wine, which now numbers more than 2,000 bottles cellared in his home in Santa Clarita. Maybe he could promise to tone down his colors to a nice shade of beige. Maybe he could wear a coat sometime that had a lapel and pockets.

Maybe none of this matters at all, because it certainly doesn’t matter to Waldorf. It took him a while, but he says he has this golf thing figured out. He knows where it fits in his life and that would be as his job. It’s not his family, it’s not driving his kids Tyler, Shea, Kelli Ann and Justin to school in Northridge. It’s not the charity work he does.

He was the college player of the year as a senior at UCLA and he said he realized his lofty career ambitions were wrong as soon as he played his first tournament. Duffy got a grip on reality early, workwise.

Even so, it’s hard to say that anything’s wrong with a career that has produced not only the four victories but more than $7.2 million in prize money.

We just don’t know what he’s spending it on, besides wine, of course. We do know one thing. It’s not on clothes.