Apple TV+‘s latest sports comedy, the Owen Wilson Stick series, ambitiously tackles golf, a notoriously difficult sport to portray compellingly on screen.
While Wilson brings his signature charm to the role of a down-and-out former pro, the Owen Wilson Stick series falters in its attempts to blend authenticity, character appeal, and believable sports storytelling.
Golf comedies are a rare breed, with the genre historically dominated by films like Caddyshack, Tin Cup, and Happy Gilmore. Each offered varying degrees of realism and slapstick, setting a high bar for successors.
In contrast, Stick tries to thread the needle between heartfelt drama and irreverent humor, but stumbles particularly on the green.
Owen Wilson stars as Pryce “Stick” Cahill, a disgraced former golf champion who stumbles into mentoring teenage prodigy Santiago Wheeler, played by newcomer Peter Dager.
While neither actor entered production as a golfer, their swings appear convincing enough on screen, thanks in part to coaching from golf consultant Nathan Leonhardt. Still, no amount of solid mechanics can compensate for the show’s frequent stumbles in portraying golf with credibility.
“Pryce and Santi meet over a wager involving a 200-yard iron shot, and the teen nails not only that but also hits targets at 250 and even 320 yards with range balls and junkyard clubs,” notes one viewer incredulously.
Such feats push even dramatic license beyond plausibility. Tournament pacing errors, inconsistent yardages, and implausible hole-outs plague several episodes.
A particularly glaring mistake occurs during the climactic moment of episode four: Santi sinks a walk-off wedge shot from roughly 100 yards out, supposedly to go from -1 to -2. The setup implies a par 4, yet his tee shot appears to travel no more than 70 yards.
“The geography of the hole simply doesn’t add up,” a Redditor noted.
Some fans might forgive the fudging of sports realism, as they did with Tin Cup‘s dramatic finish.
But unlike that film, Stick positions itself as a show invested in golf’s nuances, making the errors harder to overlook.
More divisive than the golf missteps, however, is the show’s character design—especially the introduction of Zero, a genderqueer caddy played by Lilli Kay.
Originally a minor character, Zero becomes central in episode four, drawing ire from segments of the audience who find the character overly performative or distracting from the core dynamic.
“I was casually enjoying it until the Zero character started taking over the show,” wrote one top comment on Reddit’s r/golf.
Another user wondered whether Zero was written to be sympathetic or satirical, calling the character’s identity and behavior “performative wokeness.”
Kay, who identifies as LGBTQ+, portrays Zero as a former bartender turned anti-capitalist, post-colonial feminist.
The character’s stark contrast to golf’s traditional, conservative culture could have offered a compelling foil. But for many, Zero lands more as a caricature than a character.
THR reached out to Axton B., a 27-year-old Florida government worker and the original Reddit poster behind a viral critique of Stick. “Other than Owen Wilson, all of the characters are incredibly unlikable,” Axton said. “Zero took a mediocre show and made it much less fun to watch.”
From a golf purist’s perspective, the Owen Wilson Stick series also stumbles. Axton, who plays to an 18 handicap, flagged technical inaccuracies such as teaching a draw by opening the clubface—”That’s how you hit a fade, not a draw,” he noted—and simulator scenes that don’t reflect real-life systems.
Though social media criticism can amplify negativity, the Owen Wilson Stick series has seen its critical acclaim decline since launch. Initially “Certified Fresh” on Rotten Tomatoes, the series currently holds a 79% critic score, 70% among top critics, and a 59% audience rating.
Even positive reviews have caveats. THR’s Angie Han praised the show’s hangout vibe and chemistry, writing that Stick could be Apple’s “next big crowd pleaser.”
Yet even she noted that Zero feels more like a generational caricature than a fully realized character, “never totally stopping from feeling like a Gen Z caricature upon which Gen Xers can project their ‘kids today’ grievances.”
Despite Wilson’s strong lead performance and some glimmers of charm, the Owen Wilson Stick series hasn’t resonated with either golf purists or mainstream comedy fans. If the Owen Wilson Stick series wants to regain traction, it must find a clearer voice—both in its swing mechanics and its storytelling approach.
