A walk down memory lane with three-time Asian Tour champion and golf commentator Anthony Kang, who tamed the Cobra course at the Saujana Golf and Country Club for his career’s biggest victory 10 years ago.

By Anthony Kang

I stood on the tenth tee of Saujana Golf and Country Club with a two stroke lead just past 1:30 PM on Sunday, February 15, 2009 with an overwhelming conviction that I was going to win the Maybank Malaysian Open.  Like a fanatic, a radical, or an extremist, I could not be convinced out of my belief.  I turned my head 90 degrees to the right to look at the 18th green, the hospitality marquee, and the crowd standing behind the ropes and I was positive, without question, that I would walk off that green as the champion.

A little over two hours later I arrived at the right half of the 18th fairway, a dog leg right par 5, where my tee ball sat 260 yards away from the front edge of the green.  Tied for the lead at -16, I endured a decision as I waited for the group ahead to clear the green … lay up or go for the green.

From the right half of the fairway on this hole, which bends right, a direct line to the green was non-existent.  The ball had to start at least 15 yards to the left of the left border of the green and it had to cut.  If the ball took off even one yard to the right, it would clatter into the trees immediately ahead and leave me with a third shot in excess of 200 yards, at best, or no shot to the green at all.  Miss the green to the left because the ball did not cut and I am left with a down hill chip with a severe curve from left to right, like standing at the top of a spiral staircase, out of the thick and gluey rough.  Over-cut the ball and rows of dense palm trees, extending the entire length of the hole on the right, await to catch my ball.  A baseball coach would be proud of how many balls those palm trees nab out of the sky.

The most serious concern, however, was the cross bunker in the center of the fairway just 15 yards shy of the green, which left a 50 yard bunker shot to the hole … no man’s land.  245 yards was the carry distance to clear the bunker but a light breeze was against me.  The carry distance of my three wood, a 14 degree Ping G10 at the time, was 255 yards … Can I fly the ball at least 245 yards into this breeze?

Attempt to go for the green and bogey was a definite possibility just as much as a birdie.  Lay up and I saw no birdie, just par.

The intensity of my conviction, that I will win, had never been this high prior to this moment, or since for that matter.  In that situation of anxiety, with adrenaline pumping though my body ferociously and a rapid beating heart, as if I ran from the tee to the ball in the fairway, I asked myself a question internally.  ‘When will I have a chance to hit a shot like this?’  No answer was necessary.  I did not want look back to this moment and regret not hitting that shot.  I needed to hit that shot.

A 50 yard bunker shot on a peaceful afternoon at my home course is an unpleasant experience.  A 50 yard bunker shot at the final hole of a major tournament with title implications, the scrutinizing attention, and the ceaseless pressure could be an excruciating one. Much like standing naked on the stage in a sold out theater, I would be completely exposed.  That was the risk I had to take if I was going to win and there was no other way.

Fast forward ten years to now and I play tournaments sparingly, am a part of the broadcast team during live Asian Tour events, and have written a couple of articles for the Asian Tour website.  If I were asked on that Sunday in Malaysia ‘where do you see yourself in 10 years?’  my answer would be ‘playing the PGA Tour and getting ready for The Champions Tour.’  The thought of an ineffective golf game was not fathomable, TV commentary was never on my radar, and writing articles was not in my universe.

The reality is, my golf game is not competitive and my past golf is easily brighter than my future golf but I am still a part of the organisation that has provided myself an abundance … the Asian Tour.

Perhaps because I hit that shot, I was afforded the opportunity to sit next to Dom Boulet, the ‘Voice’ of Asian Golf and a man I consider my mentor, and Richard Kaufman, who possesses a remarkably diligent work ethic which I try to emulate.  Working with them, the ultra smooth Tim Low, and the resolute individuals that comprise the Asian Tour Media have opened my eyes to not only the TV production of golf, but the business of golf.

Everyone has a story to tell but maybe because I hit that shot, I was given the opportunity to keyboard my thoughts and put it on a screen for golfers to read.  The creative team responsible for Asian Tour’s website content has also enabled me to observe golf from another context.

Through these endeavors, I have gained a greater perspective, knowledge, awareness and an appreciation for the decisions and the actions of the personnel behind the scenes that make a golf tournament possible.  The unseen man power and the unnoticed work hours required, to stage a smooth and successful event, is staggering.  A Ferrari is a visually stunning vehicle but little thought goes into the engine parts that work in unison to provide the power and the speed. No thought goes into the nuts and bolts that hold the engine parts together.  Now I am grateful for the nuts and bolts that create a platform for professional golfers.

By the way, the three wood second shot at the 18th on that Sunday at Saujana cleared the bunker by two yards, maybe one, and bounced on to the green.  I hit the shot of my life to win the Malaysian Open.

Maybank is a tremendous supporter of golf and has graciously enriched the lives of golf professionals worldwide, from Argentina to Zimbabwe, with over US $31 million in prize money since 2006.

I will always be thankful towards Maybank for providing an occasion where, financial benefits aside, I made a bit of history and an invaluable memory.