With every small deed, an invitation to the Masters, more numbers in the top 100, a triumph in Europe, they are laying a path for future generations.

With every small deed they also suggest that golf perhaps suits the Asian body and mind, that in this sport where size and power are not everything, men from this continent could, in numbers, be counted among the best one day.

Part of Asia's sporting dilemma is the reality that it falls behind in many sports which depend on a formidable marriage of muscle and speed. Failure has many factors, but this is certainly one.

Flair and variety were nice in tennis, but they broke under Boris Becker's brawn. Asian dexterity in hockey was once compelling, but the sub-continent was then pounded by the athletic strength of Western teams.

Now a solitary Asian occupies a spot in tennis' top 100, and no Asian nation has won a hockey gold in 24 years.

Football's sheer physicality often leaves Asia breathless, and the planet's most populous continent has only two nations in Fifa's top 40. In rugby, the conversation is best not opened, and in athletics Asia won only five of 183 medals at the Athens Games.

To look at it another way, of the 18 men who have won Grand Slam tennis men's events since January 2007, 17 were 1.80 metres and taller.

It is not that Asia is standing still in sport, but there remains a sense that the Westerner often owns a physical, intimidating advantage.

But golf is another matter. There is no speed of foot required, no obvious muscle demanded, no contact between bodies, unless Steve Williams is unhappy with a photographing fan. Says Jeev Milkha Singh: 'Height, weight, build doesn't really matter. It makes a little difference, but if you're fit and strong, you'll surely hit a long ball'.

Distance of course is a weapon, but golf's explosions are different, powered also by technique and club-head speed and timing.

Among the longer drivers this year are a man whose belly obscures the sight of his shoes (John Daly, 296.8 yards average) and a slight fellow of Korean stock named Anthony Kim, who weighs roughly 73kg after a couple of Big Macs yet is belting it an average of 304 yards.

Singapore's charming Lam Chih Bing is no Hercules either at 1.70 metres and 80 kg, yet says he smacks balls 290 to 300 yards on average.

Golf fits the supple, coiled Asian (liberties with generalisations about Asians must be forgiven). It is a sport absent of overt aggressiveness, it demands no in-your-face manner, it has no use for sledging. All this suits us.

It is a leisurely pastime, and we do not mind this either. It asks for stillness and patience, and we own some of this (perhaps learnt while standing in long queues across the continent).

It beckons the contemplative man, and it is intriguing that Western players look to the East for this, for they are fascinated by the golfing benefits of yoga and meditation.

It is a game of subtlety which we enjoy (wristy cricket batsmen, delicate badminton dribbles), it is a pursuit strong in ritual and this, too, squares perfectly with people from ancient cultures.

It is an addiction that demands the fiercest discipline, and the brilliant brigade of Koreans on the LPGA Tour exemplify that. Their success is poker-faced proof that even the men's game, one day, when the sport spreads and sheds its class distinctions, could be littered with gifted Asians.

For now, we will just settle for the often-overlooked fact that the greatest player possibly of all time, that fellow called Tiger, is half of us.

rohitb@sph.com.sg