MEDINAH, Ill. — The American team can’t stand Tom Kim. At least this week, and he should take that as a compliment because athletes don’t hate what doesn’t matter. Kim may not be the Internationals’ best player, their heart and soul or their X-factor, but he is the most important player on either side, because for the Presidents Cup to work Kim needs to be a pain in the behind.
“Going to be a little bit different than the last one obviously playing on U.S. soil,” Kim said on Tuesday at Medinah, nodding to his breakout at the 2022 Presidents Cup. “Sure we're going to hear a lot of boos.”
Kim is the rare player, maybe the only player in the history of the Presidents Cup, whose identity is tied to this event. Golf prefers its emotion in measured doses and tends to recoil once enthusiasm becomes loud or unruly, but Kim treated the Presidents Cup like it was everything its organizers had desperately trying to claim it was, dropping screams and pumping his arms and pounding his chest, and for a few hours it became exactly that. The competition felt personal and the air carried some danger. For once, it felt like what was going on mattered.
The displays bordered on too much, although the excess was part of the charm. Here was a golfer openly enjoying himself, aware that this was an exhibition and that people had come to be entertained. His emergence at age 20 as one of the game’s brightest young talents added to the intrigue. The Internationals appeared to have found a fireplug, and more importantly, a face.
Ben Jared
Kim and that energy returned at Royal Montreal in 2024; alas, it no longer felt powered by an undercurrent of charisma. What had once felt infectious began to seem forced, as if Kim was trying to play a part rather than live in the moment. His accusation on Saturday night that the Americans had crossed the line on sportsmanship landed worse, making him appear bitter after the circumstances (and his own shifting explanation) failed to support it. The record did the most damage, as Kim finished 1-2-1. Swagger only works when the scoreboard plays along.
The Americans found absolutely none of this endearing. Their private description of Kim’s behavior at Royal Montreal would require more asterisks than this website allows; the printable version is that they considered it bush league and annoying as hell. Without speaking out of school or providing the Internationals bulletin board material, time has not softened that judgment. Kim can say everything is settled, and the Americans can answer with the usual lines about respect, but team events have long memories. Players remember who celebrated in their faces, who questioned their character and who tried to make them look small. Because Kim has ensured that when the Americans see him, they see more than another name in the opposing lineup.
Which is exactly why this week needs Kim to be the agitator the Americans don't want him to be.
For a competition that has been around since 1994, the Presidents Cup has retained remarkably little of its past. There have been close finishes and the occasional flare-up, yet little has carried from one match to the next. The Ryder Cup has spent generations accumulating upsets and drama and resentments that those things are now part of its inheritance; the Presidents Cup returns every two years and asks everyone to accept its significance because we are told so. Some players have hardly concealed that they see the week as another obligation and the atmosphere has too often suggested corporate outing.
Kim offers a vibe the event cannot produce in a marketing promo, which is someone to root against. A little sports hatred, kept within the boundaries, is healthy. A made putt becomes more satisfying when it breaks someone else’s heart, just as defeat lingers longer when delivered by a player you cannot stomach. Nobody is asking for genuine hostility or hoping things turn ugly, especially given the provincial nature of America against the world. It’s just, the event needs someone whose presence changes the mood, and Kim does that as soon as he steps on property.
Jared C. Tilton
There should be allowance for youth. He’s been around so long it’s hard to forget he’s just 24. Yes, he’s occasionally made a fool of himself. In that same breath the Presidents Cup has spent most of its existence begging for a pulse, so why are we being hard on the one player whose heart was beating too fast. And reducing Kim to an obnoxious kid also ignores why he connected with people in the first place. He leaves the rough edges exposed. The sport cannot ask players to reveal themselves and complain when it dislikes what it sees.
“I think you just got to enjoy it as much as you can. Team golf is so special,” Kim said. “The more years I play on the PGA Tour the more I realize how special these events are. You don't really get a week where you get to really be with the guys. Golf is such an individual sport, but it's important we get together, and to be able to root for your teammates and when your teammates make a putt, there is not a better feeling.”
The career imagined for Kim after Quail Hollow has not arrived, at least not yet. Other young players have surged past him while his results have flattened, leaving his celebrity slightly ahead of his accomplishments. Yet team golf has always made room for players who find another version of themselves once the uniform goes on. Ian Poulter was accomplished without living among the game’s elite, but the Ryder Cup turned him into this mythological beast the Americans feared and Europe trusted beyond all measure. American players hated the performance because Poulter kept giving it an ending they didn’t want to see.
Kim has the chance to occupy similar ground. He doesn’t need to be some juggernaut, just the opponent the Americans are tired of before the first match begins, the player their fans most want silenced and his teammates most want standing over a meaningful putt. But the play has to accompany the performance because noise without results becomes parody. If Kim wants to bark he has to give the Americans a reason to fear what comes after them.
The Presidents Cup has spent three decades waiting for relevance. An International victory at Medinah would narrow the competitive gap and give the event some badly needed credibility, but a closer scoreboard can only do so much. Rivalries take hold when the players stir something in the audience and opponents that can’t be quantified by score. Kim may decide whether this becomes another result or the beginning of something the Presidents Cup has never had.