By James Corrigan
At the end of a year in which Andrew Johnston confirmed his cult status by smashing a cheeseburger off a tee with a driver, he intends to hit the gym.
Whatever else can be said for certain about the maverick known as "Beef", it is obvious that he will never follow anyone's script.
Few would guess Johnston's one regret about 2016, the season in which he went from a nobody to one of the game's top newsmakers, featuring above Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy in the annual poll of the American magazine, Golf Digest.
"Fitness is one of my main goals for 2017," Johnston said. I had a good thing going in the gym but I've lost it in the last 12 months and that's disappointing. I don't intend to be ripped or be a muscle man or anything, but I do want to gain that power and that stamina. 'Discipline' is my buzzword for the year."
That does not quite fit with his roly-poly, laid-back image which has made him such a favourite with the galleries. In an age when the professionals seem more serious and, yes, aloof than ever, the 27-year-old from London has emerged as a blessed one-off.
Of course, the traditionalists have not unanimously approved, but that has only made him more appealing to the masses. The son of a bus driver and a school dinner lady, Johnston is the everyman between the ropes.
"It's been mad if I think about it," he said. "It was only three years ago when I was struggling to buy Christmas presents for my family. My dad [Noel] had died when I was 17 and when it was tough going on tour I used to think about him and it kept me going. And it works both ways because, when I've had these good times, I've thought about him and it drives me on to make him more proud. He would have said to me, 'What did you hit that cheeseburger for?' but he would have laughed and said, 'You silly boy'. He always told me to enjoy it."
There can be little doubt Johnston has done that. The perpetual gummy smile is as much a part of his celebrity as his shaggy beard and, as big as he is in his homeland, it is in the United States where he has truly taken off.
And it all started with one glib statement following his maiden European Tour victory at the Spanish Open in April.
"My ambition for the year had been to get that win," he said. "Until you do it, it's a 'can you, can't you' type of thing. The madness all began after I told the interviewer that I just wanted to 'go home and get hammered and see my mum'. It was amazing. I went to the US Open in June and John Hahn said that it might be crazy out there. I didn't know why and he explained that clip was shown over and over on Sports Center, which is on ESPN and is massive.
"When I went out they were all shouting 'Beeef" and I was like 'wow'. And then at the Open it went even more nuts." By then, Johnston had, on the wish of a photographer, taken titanium to a quarter-pounder on the range at the WGC Bridgestone in Ohio, so it was appropriate when "Beeef" also rang out on the Royal Troon links.
Johnston proved he was so much than merely a novelty by playing himself into the penultimate group on the final day, before finishing eighth. "I'll never forget walking down the 18th on that Sunday and all the cheers and screams," he said. "I thought it might cool down a bit but it became more and more barmy. The USPGA [at Baltusrol] was mental and then there was the British Masters when that bloke got me to sign 'Beef' on his forehead with a Sharpie."
There had also been fat contracts for Beef to sign, not least with Arby's, the US sandwich-maker who found its ideal poster boy. Yet through it all he continued to show that he had the substance to go with all the filling, first when winning his PGA Tour card and then by finishing in the top 30 on the European Tour money list.
"It gives me a buzz and I'd feel bad if I didn't do it and that would affect me on the course", Johnston said.
"Yeah, a few traditionalists might have raised their eyes and maybe I shouldn't have hit that cheeseburger.
"But it's not as if I punched someone on the course. It was harmless fun. The way I see it is that there are enough players for traditionalists to like and it's good to be different to attract more people into the game." Indeed it is, and Beef's missionary zeal is extending itself to playing in a burger-birdies-beer "triathlon" alongside John Daly, Boo Weekley and Steve Bowditch.
"I don't know if the powers-that-be will allow it, but I don't see why not," he added.
"We'll play when there are no other tournaments on and all the money will go to charity.
"It'll be a laugh and will put a smile on people's faces. That's what it's all about, isn't it?"
The Telegraph, London