What now for David Duval? Off the course, he's found love. He's about to become a husband and a father of three. He says he still loves the game, too. There's just one question: will it love him back?

Golf Digest, March, 2004 by Jaime Diaz

DAVID DUVAL SAYS HE'S FINE. REALLY.

And, especially to the ghoulish, he does look surprisingly good. The G-forces from a years-long nose dive that plummets a golfer from No. 1 in the world to No. 251 must be profound, but Duval, the only human ever to take such a plunge, doesn't look worse for wear. He's noticeably thinner and less muscular, the result of a curtailed workout schedule necessitated by a near-biblical spate of injuries to his back, wrist and shoulder, with an attack of vertigo thrown in for good measure. At the same time his face seems softer and more open at age 32 than it did when he was the windshield rather than the bug. As he sat on a stage at a Nike function at the end of 2003 and spoke fluently about new-driver technology, Duval's rectangular black-rimmed glasses and fashionably cowlicked hair gave him the au courant look of a glib metrosexual on "Friends."

Meanwhile, the inside of Duval's head, that infamous cone of contrariness, seemed equally fine. In one version of a commercial filmed earlier in the day, Duval's practice swing shattered the passenger window of Tiger Woods' car, prompting Frank the Headcover to pipe, "That's the most solid contact you've made in a year." Duval, entering the fourth year of a five-year contract with Nike that pays him more than $6 million a year, went with it, just as he easily submitted to a Q&A session with an eager audience. Despite wearing a form-fitting black-and-orange pullover with the inscription "IGNITE" and having to skirt some inflammatory topics, absolutely nothing about Duval suggested he was about to burst into flames.

"No problem," he said a few moments later to a request to answer more questions. He calmly disclosed his plan for early 2004: Hold off on tournament play until healthy, while working with David Leadbetter, the architect of Lee Westwood's recent resurrection from 256th in the world to 2003 multiple-tournament winner. The goal is to be ready by the Florida swing in March, but if the progress is slow, Duval will skip the Masters.

"If I have one regret during all this," he says, carefully avoiding giving his ordeal a name, "it's that at times I tried to force my way through it. I'm not going to repeat that mistake." Duval makes no projection for the future, occasionally exercising control over touchy spots with vague answers to rhetorical questions: "Can I get back to where I was? I think I can. Who knows? The one thing I do know is that you can't identify your worth as a person by how you perform as a golfer."

Ironically, his peers have done just that--in reverse. As Duval's scores have gone up, so has his reputation as a man. By uncomplainingly soldiering through just about the worst slide endured by a top player, Duval has gained more respect than he did with his Double D act (dominating and diffident) while winning 11 of 36 tournaments from October 1997 to April 1999.

Darren Clarke, who watched Duval hit "the most horrible, horrific shots" in rounds of 79-83 at last year's Masters, called Duval's demeanor through the ordeal "incredible. I've never played with anyone whose attitude was so good." Adds Davis Love III: "David hasn't ever let a lot of people know him, but by the way he's handled the last couple of years, he's showed everyone he's got a ton of character."

Duval's outward peace has grown with his engagement last November to Susie Persichitte, a 36-year-old mother of two boys and a girl, ages 12, 10 and 7. The two met last August in a Denver restaurant during the week of The International. ("Not at the golf course," he emphasizes. "She didn't know who I was.")

"It was like magic when we met," Duval says unguardedly. "I knew I had a soulmate." No wedding date has been set, but those close to Duval say he has long been looking forward to fatherhood. "You always want to share stuff with somebody," says Fred Couples, a confidant who became the stepfather of two with his second marriage. "I think it makes the golf part of it a lot more fun."

Ah, yes, the golf part of it. Score may not determine the worth of a person, but it does in the most merciless way determine the precise place of a professional golfer. The issue at hand is miles beyond Duval's not winning an official event since the 2001 British Open. What's pertinent is that especially in the second half of what is now an 0-for-50 streak, Duval hasn't been close to competitive.

When Duval finished the 2002 season 80th on the money list after never having been worse than 11th since joining the tour in 1995, it ranked as one of the great collapses of recent years. No one expected the decline to accelerate, least of all Duval, who at the beginning of last year confidently told John Hawkins of Golf World, "I can continue to finish 80th to 100th on the money list playing from the rough. I'm good enough to do that."

No, he isn't. Not even close. Forget Duval's former standard as the consensus best combination of power and accuracy in the game. In 2003, the numbers say Duval was perhaps the most inaccurate golfer on tour.