CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA | Nearly 12 years ago, I stood with two other golf writers in a secluded section of the practice area at Quail Hollow Club here, watching Anthony Kim hit balls into the afternoon sun.
It was Wells Fargo Championship week and Kim had dropped a pile of balls in the grass, far from the actual practice tee. Wearing headphones, Kim did his work alone, aware that we were watching and waiting.
When he was done, Kim turned to the three of us, smiled and said, “If you guys are here, that can’t be good news.”
There was no bad news, just three writers wanting to catch up with Kim who, despite a miserable start to his 2012 season, remained one of the game’s most dynamic personalities.
We talked for a while and Kim referenced injury issues that were bothering him. In nine previous starts that year, Kim had missed four cuts, withdrawn twice, been disqualified once and counted a T42 at the Honda Classic as his best week.
No one knew he wasn’t coming back, but as the weeks and months went by, Kim’s absence – and his intentional anonymity – became a curiosity. He was Bigfoot in soft spikes.
A day later, Kim would open with 74 at Quail Hollow and withdraw.
Poof.
Anthony Kim was gone for good.
There were sights and rumors, snippets of gossip about Kim’s whereabouts and his lifestyle, a magazine story here and there about where he was and what he was doing. The stories centered around a reported eight-figure insurance policy Kim had exercised, thereby preventing him from playing professional golf again.
As good as Kim was on the course – and he was brilliant at times – the second half of his story enhanced his legend. He was a shooting star, spraying sparks, leaving a gasp-inducing trail, and then he vanished.
Now there are reports that Kim is on the verge of returning to professional golf, looking into playing PGA Tour events again (he would be eligible under the past-champion category and open to sponsor exemptions). There have been discussions about how Kim could recoup the money to offset what he might owe the insurance company.
Kim is 38 years old now, and age is undefeated, but if Kim were to return, it would send an energizing jolt through the game.
It’s possible that Kim could join LIV Golf instead, and it’s no secret the organization has the money via its benefactor, Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund, to offset whatever insurance issues Kim’s return might create.
This time, it’s more than gossip.
“The game of golf needs him. People know nothing about him. They just hear the stories. Where did this talent go?” said Colt Knost, who has remained in contact with Kim through the years.
Kim is 38 years old now, and age is undefeated, but if Kim were to return, it would send an energizing jolt through the game. The possibility of it has caught fire like rumors of Beatles reunions back in the day.
What is it that makes Anthony Kim so captivating?
It started with how he played, a kid from Koreatown in Los Angeles who competed as if he were flying down an open highway on a hot August night. The only thing Kim was missing was fear.
“He’s the most fearless player I’ve ever come across – him and Phil (Mickelson),” Knost said.
“If he had a swing, he had a shot. You could put a pin behind a brick wall and he would find a way to get at it.”
Kim won three PGA Tour events and finished second four times in a relatively compact window. When he won at Quail Hollow as a 22-year-old in 2008, beating Ben Curtis by five shots, Kim walked down the hill in front of the 18th tee with his arms spread, looking like a man trying to take flight.
He already had.
In the fall of 2008, Kim fueled the bonfire within the U.S. Ryder Cup team. His 5-and-4 beatdown of Sergio García in the first singles match on Sunday at Valhalla was as loud as it was definitive.
The game was thumping to a new beat, and Kim, who knew how to have a good time, and often did, played the deejay role.
In the second round of the 2009 Masters, Kim shot 65 while making 11 birdies, still a tournament record. In his press conference on that Friday, Kim referenced a story he had read about a baseball player who recently had died, and it helped Kim that day when his round threatened to come apart.
“The last line in the story was: ‘You never know what can happen, even at 22. You have to live every moment of every day like it’s your last,’” Kim said.
Who knew that barely four years later, Kim would make an Irish exit.
“When your peers rave about your talent and how good you could have been, that says it all,” Knost said.
“From a talent standpoint, he had it all. He’s probably the biggest underachiever ever, and I mean it as a compliment.”
The legend of Anthony Kim has grown the longer he’s been gone. He was that good, at least for a time, and he did it his way, which may have led him down the hidden path that he took.
Legends don’t often have a postscript, but Anthony Kim’s may be – like the man himself – different.
E-MAIL RON
Top: Anthony Kim during the 2009 Masters
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