Owen Wilson's Stick Sounds Like a Ted Lasso Ripoff. Actually, It's Better

The third episode of the new Apple TV+ golf comedy Stick is called “Daddy Issues,” but that might as well be the title of the show. Created by Ford v. Ferrari writer Jason Keller, it stars Owen Wilson as a former top golfer, Pryce Cahill, who publicly flamed out 20 years ago. He’s been mired in the past ever since, from his job at a sporting goods store to his refusal to finalize the divorce initiated by his long-suffering wife (Judy Greer), move out of their old house, and accept that he’s no longer a husband, a father, or a pro athlete. When he spots a surly teen at a driving range, Santi (Peter Dager), who has the makings of a major talent, Pryce sees in this potential protégé a shot at redemption. But Santi, whose now-estranged dad used to push him too hard on the golf course, doesn’t exactly relish the prospect of having a new father figure to satisfy.

It sounds hackneyed and heartstring-yanking—another comedy that uses sports as a cover to talk about men’s feelings and relationships from the platform that brought us Ted Lasso. There are indeed elements of Stick, which premieres on June 4, that come off as pandering; as if a dad-rock soundtrack (“Baba O’Riley,” “The Boys Are Back in Town”) weren’t enough, it even rips off Lasso’s earnest folk theme song. While it’s a relief that Greer isn’t forced to play a harpy, the show can be cringily conspicuous in its efforts to model empathy for women. A self-described “genderqueer, anticapitalist, postcolonial feminist” character named Zero (Lilli Kay) initially reads as an assemblage of lazy Gen Z clichés that exist mostly in the imaginations of boomers.

Yet within the limitations of its formula, Stick works. A trite setup gives way to a looser road-trip vibe after Pryce convinces Santi and his savvy mom (Mariana Treviño) to pile into a RV with him and his cranky ex-caddie (an effectively typecast Marc Maron) for a summer of amateur tournaments. Everyone is low-key lonely, with familial baggage that keeps them from connecting with others. Thankfully, Keller’s scripts aren’t as twee or didactic about this stuff as Lasso and Shrinking creator Bill Lawrence’s tend to be. Nor are his characters cartoons like Ted; most, including Zero, quickly become multifaceted people, courtesy of a cast blessed with unshowy charisma. A game changer it isn’t, but Stick still comes out a few strokes ahead of par.