Bi-o Kim couldn’t help himself. A flash of rage overcame him after his drive on the third-to-last hole of a tournament he was leading by the thinnest of margins managed to travel a mere 100 yards. He was bothered on his downswing by the sound of a cellphone camera in the gallery, and, angered by the result, he turned to flip the bird at the offending party, pounded his driver to the ground, and gave a death stare that would have made hardened men look away. For avid followers of the sport long used to the sight of players momentarily losing their temper, his lapse in decorum seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.
There were just three problems. First, the transgression was immortalized in live coverage. Second, Kim was playing in South Korea, a country whose cultural norms frown upon public displays of hostility. And, third, the DGB Financial Group Volvik Daegu Gyeongbuk Open was under the auspices of the Korean Tour, long committed to protecting golf’s reputation as a gentleman’s endeavor. Thusly, reaction was swift; while those on hand to see his flareup were speechless in shock, organization officials quickly called for a disciplinary hearing to look into the matter and, if necessary, issues the appropriate penalties. And “quickly” means exactly that: He would hold on to victory, his second in the circuit, but, knowing what awaited him, also wind up apologizing profusely for his outburst.
As things turned out, Kim’s mea culpa wasn’t enough to sway the Korean Tour’s sentiments. In a decision that was unanimously carried, it banned him from participating in any of its stops for three years. Yes, three whole years. To add insult to injury, it likewise fined him a relatively modest 10 million won ($8,350). Its contention: He “damaged the dignity of a golfer with etiquette violation and inappropriate behavior.” Judgment was swift, issued two days after the misstep. And it was done without regard for his position as the circuit’s only two-time winner and leading money winner.
Needless to say, the development was met with incredulity out West. Across continents, bursts of emotion from heralds of the sport occur more frequently, perhaps even commonly, and without governing bodies feeling compelled to step in. Only fines are issued, if at all, and never announced lest the penalized quarter be subject to embarrassment. For the Korean Tour, however, humiliation is what it was dealt, and humiliation is what it dealt in return. Kim was on his knees, tearful, and exceedingly contrite after his suspension was announced; scribes were around him, and video monitors and microphones trained on him to capture his every move and utterance. He was wrong, but was he then also wronged? All and sundry will have the next 156 weeks to determine the answer.
Anthony L. Cuaycong has been writing Courtside since BusinessWorld introduced a Sports section in 1994. He is a consultant on strategic planning, operations and Human Resources management, corporate communications, and business development.
