Who is Anthony Kim?

In that case, we might as well start at Oklahoma.

"In college," Kim hardly has to say, "kids drink every single day. That's what I did. When you're in college, you feel invincible. You don't have to make a tee time because you're on full scholarship at OU. Whether you go to class or not, it doesn't matter. I tried to go to class as little as possible."

What was his major?

"I majored in not picking a major," he says. "I just kept it undecided, biding my time until I turned pro."

He planned to spend just one golf season in Norman, mainly to please his mother. But she wheedled two more out of him. However, in Anthony's third and final year, he went a little haywire, which is to say backward. Not so much on the merits as on the demerits, Kim slipped from first-team All-America to second. How could I be second team? he thought at the time. "In one of the best fields we played all year, I won by eight shots. Before that -- another good field -- I won by seven." But he says now, "It's also true that I was benched for a few tournaments -- I don't know, probably five tournaments. And I said stupid things all the time. I still say stupid things. The bottom line -- and it's taken me a while to come to this -- is that it was mostly my fault. You can't screw up yourself and then expect the best from someone else."

Kim could have worked harder. He could have led more. He could have been less vocal about and disgusted by what he calls "the politics of college golf." Still, despite all of the headaches Kim brought him, Oklahoma coach Jim Ragan says, "That kid has a really good heart."

Speaking of headaches, Anthony wasn't finished with the vodka. In 2006, previewing the PGA Tour at two stops, Kim had either the good or bad fortune to succeed instantly. Debuting at the Valero Texas Open on a sponsor's exemption, he tied for second place and earned 300 grand. Until that moment, Anthony wasn't completely sure he could make a living with his golf clubs. "This may sound crazy," he says, "but at Valero, I kind of figured it out." After that, and for a long while, he was a little too sure.

In 2007, the youngest rookie on tour had finishes of third, fifth and ninth, was 60th on the money list and banked a million and a half dollars. Only by his own yardstick did Kim fail to measure up.

"That first year, I don't know what happened," he says. "It was a train wreck of a year. I did everything wrong that you could possibly do. I didn't deserve to keep my card. I don't know how many golf balls I hit in 2007, but it couldn't have been in the thousands. Sometimes I wouldn't hit 10 for the week. I'd just play the tournament. And that's not me -- that's Carlos Franco. I need to hit balls and loosen up and go through my routine. I didn't do that. I stayed out every night. Everybody saw it. I didn't respect the game. I didn't respect myself."

On "a hung-over day," he'd sit back and reflect, What are you doing? But he knew the answer. "You're screwing off instead of working, and then you're tired for the next three weeks. To try to take some of that tiredness away, you go out on the town again, looking for a rhythm. Now you're two months' tired. Exhausted. Ashamed. That's how my year went."

A number of people helped turn him around, including himself -- probably especially himself -- but Eric Larson, Mark Calcavecchia and Mark O'Meara deserve honorable mention. Kim says, "I didn't have the best -- I want to say -- influences around me, as far as somebody to kind of guide me, who talked to me like a man and not like a kid, even though I behaved like one. I think I needed that respect. I got it from Eric."

Kim with two members of his inner circle, Paull Veroulis and Rocky, the cat-loving pit bull.

Caddie Larson is grateful to be measuring time by the week again, instead of by the month and year. In 1995, he was sentenced to 156 months in prison for his role in a cocaine-selling conspiracy. He served 11 years. At the Federal Correctional Institution in Butner, N.C., near the Research Triangle of Durham, Raleigh and Chapel Hill, he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Business Administration. On a 4.0 scale, his grade-point average was 3.8.

Larson's old boss and friend, Calcavecchia, stood by him. He has always seemed like a tough guy, Calcavecchia. He's a gentle guy. "I was in four different institutions," Larson says, "and Calc was the only one who made it to all four. [The Grand Slammer.] We talked a lot on the phone, too. Through Calc, I was able to keep in touch with golf and the tour. I can't tell you what that meant to me. When I was released two years ago, he got me started again. Steve Marino and a few others helped, too, until I landed with the perfect young player. 'If it doesn't work out,' Calc said, 'you can always come back to me. But it's going to work out. It's going to be great.' "

To make sure he wasn't poaching, Kim contacted Calcavecchia, and they made a connection. "Calc has been nothing but supportive," Anthony says. "It's been my experience generally that, the better the player is, the nicer he is to the younger guys. It's the ones struggling to keep their cards who have the chips on their shoulders."