Show Review: Stick
A show about golf that’s really about everything else
Estimated read time is 3 minutes — enjoy!
In a week when the Environmental Protection Agency is denying the existence of climate science and everything else still seems to be unraveling, it’s a relief to write about a show that offers a welcome break from our troubles. Unlike our current leaders—who are dismantling a century’s worth of institutional norms while pretending to have all the answers—Stick, the new Apple+ series starring Owen Wilson, doesn’t promise to fix anything. Instead, it quietly reminds us that connection, vulnerability, and second chances still matter. It lands like a warm breeze across the 18th green: subtle, steady, and surprisingly moving.
Wilson plays Pryce “Stick” Cahill, a former golf star whose life has been derailed by personal tragedy. Pryce isn’t the cliché of a man in free fall; he’s something more haunting—someone worn down by disappointment, just trying to make it from one day to the next. Wilson, whose laid-back persona has sometimes limited the emotional range of his roles, is quietly terrific here. He carries the weary stillness of someone who's been through too much, but hasn’t quite given up.
That sad equilibrium is broken when he crosses paths with Santiago “Santi” Wheeler, a teenage golf phenom who’s also walked away from the game because of an abusive father. Their meeting isn’t grand or cinematic—it’s accidental and a bit funny. But something clicks. Pryce sees in Santi a reflection of his former self, and perhaps, a second shot at purpose. He decides to stake Santi’s return to competitive golf—not with grand ambition, but with a kind of desperate need to matter again.
Yet Stick isn’t a sports drama in the conventional sense. Golf serves as the metaphorical terrain—a game where consistency and inner calm matter more than raw talent. The show understands the strange cruelty of a sport that exposes the mind’s frailty more than the body’s strength. At one point, Pryce notes that golf is the only sport where you’re always playing against yourself. That’s true here—not just on the course, but in the quiet struggles of every character.
And what a cast of characters. Lilli Kay is magnetic as Zero, Santi’s caddy and love interest, whose non-binary identity is presented with refreshing nuance and no fanfare. Marc Maron is perfectly cast as Pryce’s grizzled old caddie, delivering dry wit and unexpected tenderness. Mariana Treviño, as Santi’s eccentric, fiercely loving mother, brings emotional depth and moments of delightful weirdness. They’re not just side characters—they’re a makeshift family, each carrying private wounds while doing their imperfect best to hold one another up.
Together, they travel from course to course, but the real journey is internal. What pulled me in most was the growing emotional bond between this unlikely crew—their connection builds steadily, and by the end, it feels earned.
Like Ted Lasso, Stick uses sport as a vehicle rather than a destination. You don’t have to care about golf to care deeply about these people. But perhaps that’s the point: golf, like life, demands focus, humility, and patience. Some shots go wide. Some days you melt down. But if you can find the right rhythm—and the right people to walk with—you just might find your way back.
COMING NEXT WEEK: I’ll explain why the Senate is actually unconstitutional—and push back on the claim that it can’t be reformed.