Stick is not just one of those television shows trying to be deep and philosophical. When it comes to shows these days, whether it’s through gritty antiheroes, cynical plot twists, or monologues that are meant for an Emmy, much of today’s TV aims to make some impactful point. This Apple TV program, on the other hand, wants to do something entirely different: help you feel okay again.
Throughout the first three episodes, Stick reveals the story of a once-great athlete grappling with heart-wrenching memories, alongside a promising young talent desperately seeking direction, complemented by a motley crew of supporting characters who provide emotional scaffolding.
The show’s charm creeps up on you. The premise might not be revolutionary, but the show is warm, funny, and quietly satisfying.
Owen Wilson stars as Pryce Cahill, a former PGA player whose bright career turned to ash in front of millions during a televised incident. Now, consumed with grief and seeking forgiveness, he attempts to coach a young golfing sensation, Santi (Peter Dager). Accompanying him is a vibrant supporting cast: Marc Maron as a charming former caddy-turned-sidekick, Judy Greer as Pryce’s ex-wife, and Mariana Treviño as Santi’s stern yet tender mother.
Of course, the emotional arcs are predictable. Of course, golf is more of an art than a sport. Yet somehow, the show manages to captivate audiences without trying. The jokes are lighthearted, the lessons are genuine, and the show understands that sometimes, comfort TV is the only kind we desire.
Stick is based on a familiar playbook that still works

Stick realizes it isn't a genre reimagining – in fact, it leans harder into its own predictability. The show draws inspiration from a host of sources: Ted Lasso’s trademark optimism, Shrinking’s emotive sincerity, and even some nods to Happy Gilmore, like Pryce’s business card, “The Pryce Is Right.”
Rather than attempting to be clever, the show takes a straightforward approach and, for the most part, comes through. Although the premise of the show revolves around golf, it seldom feels like the centerpiece.
The audience watches Santi make perfect shots and feel milestones on an emotional level rather than a sporting one. However clean and easy it appears, that rhythm still exudes satisfaction, akin to a sitcom that features longer scenes and deeper cuts.
Safe, soft — and surprisingly thoughtful

Pacing aside, where Stick does impress is in its emotional intelligence. The show lightly grazes over several big themes, such as toxic masculinity, grief, and second chances, but does not delve into social commentary. Pryce is not a hero and does not fit the archetype, but he is certainly doing his best. Santi does not fit the mold of a stereotype, but rather comes with the kind of pain that one anticipates from a young genius who is desperate for a father figure.
By the third episode, the show shifts to embrace its wholesome side. Conflicts get resolved through open dialogue, and apologies are heartfelt. Change is glacial, but there is some development, albeit minimal. For some viewers, that order might come off as too overly tidy, but the show’s intent isn't to shock the audience — it’s to provide comfort. And in that regard, it has succeeded.
Final verdict
I'll give the first 3 episodes 7/10

Stick will not dazzle anyone with out-of-the-box thinking, and it knows it. But the lack of complexity is compensated for by the show being heartfelt. Owen Wilson brings the melancholic charm just right, the rest of the cast supports him perfectly, and yes, the writing is safe, but tender in places.
In case you’re after an unapologetic satire or a sob-fest wrapped in a sports drama, then this probably isn’t for you. But if you want a show that serves as an emotional release — a subdued, dorky, but real breather — then Stick might just emerge as your go-to comforting watch.