Lynch: A second coming of Anthony Kim would mesmerize his cult, but it wouldn’t save LIV Golf or the PGA Tour.

As the cockiest among the PGA Tour’s young flat-brimmers back in the noughties, Anthony Kim has long been venerated by aging millennial bros as the apostolic leader of golf cool, but as with most cults, the enthusiasm for a second coming says less about the promise of the savior than the desperation of those wishing to be saved.

It is understandable why fans continue to be fascinated with Kim. In a sport where even older and less impressive players continue to compete, Kim stood out as a bold and captivating personality. At the age of 26, he decided to walk away from professional golf, without seeking a career in broadcasting or public speaking. His final competitive round took place on May 3, 2012, at the Wells Fargo Championship in Charlotte, N.C., where he had previously celebrated his first victory on the Tour four years prior. Kim had been living a wild lifestyle, had lost a major sponsor, and was on the verge of losing his professional status.

“This was the start of my career,” Kim said that week. “Hopefully, I can start a new one here.”

Instead, he withdrew citing wrist and thumb pain and hasn’t competed since. He’s rarely even been seen, the few sightings of him posted to social media being analyzed with an intensity worthy of the Zapruder film.

Kim’s lengthy absence reportedly owes to a lucrative insurance payout for career-ending injuries, compensation that could be jeopardized if he returns to competition. If a rumored comeback happens on the PGA Tour, it would suggest his old confidence is intact, since out there money and status is hard-earned. Signing with LIV Golf, on the other hand, is more plausible and would be a slick arbitrage, the quality of his play being irrelevant to the rewards he’d receive and with guaranteed money far in excess of any insurance clawback. He may even think he can beat a handful of Greg Norman’s finest.

In lieu of results, the cult of Anthony Kim took over. A dozen years of applying Vaseline to the critical lens has obscured the reality that his prime was as brief as it is distant: three wins, three top 10 finishes in 15 major starts, one standout Ryder Cup. Revisiting performance statistics from his injury-free period suggests that Kim’s greatest weapon was his confidence, and how much of that can we reasonably expect now? Discount the messianic cult and you’ve got a 38-year-old with three wins and a bit of moxie.

He’s Scott Stallings, except that we actually know Stallings still has game.

Two things have sustained the Kim cult for a dozen years: an unshakeable belief among a subset of fans that he would have accomplished much more in his career, and the convenient fact that he hasn’t returned to test that belief. Among his peers, mild interest remains. “I’d be interested in watching Anthony Kim play golf for about five minutes,” one Tour veteran wrote in a group text Thursday evening.

“Four more than me,” another player responded.

Beyond fans who genuinely want to see what he has in the tank, the constituency most thirsty for a Kim comeback is parasitic industry executives — those hoping to skim a percentage of any deal and those urgently in need of eyeballs on a failed product. A deal between LIV and Kim would be hailed as genius marketing by those who splash in shallow waters, but it would more accurately expose a tour reliant on gimmickry.

,Signing Jon Rahm signals what LIV Golf aspires to be. Signing Anthony Kim would illustrate what it is.

When Kim last played a professional event, Jordan Spieth was an amateur with a robust hairline and Nick Dunlap was playing peewee games. In 2014, it was reported that Kim was no longer even playing recreational golf. During a random fan encounter five years ago, he described his golf game as “non-existent.” Broken down, washed up, cashing in. Kim would check every box, so it’s unsurprising that LIV sees a potential asset.

If Kim decides to make a comeback, a similar parallel can be drawn to the career of Bjorn Borg. Exhausted and burnt out, Borg retired from tennis at the age of 25 after losing the 1981 U.S. Open final to John McEnroe (he had already left for the airport when McEnroe was presented with the trophy). A decade later, which was longer than most professional careers, Borg made the decision to return to the sport, armed with nothing more than a wooden racquet and his reputation.

However, the results were extremely poor and only served to create a disappointingly ordinary chapter in his once-impressive career.

Although Kim cannot be compared to Borg in terms of achievements or status, there is a valuable lesson to be learned. It is important to understand that even if someone possessed immense talent in the past, their return to sports after a long absence is more likely to be seen as a disappointing curiosity rather than an exhilarating new chapter.