by Bang Average Golf’s Archivist of Misunderstood Flatsticks.
Long before “MOI” became golf’s favourite buzzword and everyone started swinging putters the size of air traffic control panels, Ping dropped the Anser 5K, a blade with a complex.
It looked like an Anser that had been force-fed tungsten and guilt. Wider, chunkier, and heavier than your typical blade, it wanted to be forgiving without giving up its classic roots. In other words, it was a putter having an identity crisis.
Was it a mallet? Was it a blade? Was it misunderstood genius? Let’s find out.
THE LOOK: Anser After a Growth Spurt
If the original Anser is sleek and minimal, the Anser 5K is that same putter after six months of creatine and bulk season. Wider flange. Fatter sole. Slightly “what are you looking at?” energy.
From address, it still looked like an Anser… kind of…. if you squinted. But the back end was chunkier, heavier, and a bit weird. The offset is so far back that only memories and echoes remain. It’s not exactly ugly, just unexpected. Like someone gave a Porsche 911 a caravan extension.
Golfers who liked clean lines might have winced. Golfers who missed the centre of the face nodded politely.
THE FEEL: Like Hitting a Ball With a Frying Pan
The Anser 5K was built to feel solid. And boy did it. It had that heavy, planted sensation that made short putts feel like laying bricks. Great if you wanted something stable. Not great if you preferred soft, floaty feedback.
There was no click. Just a thud. A muted, mechanical response that told you, “Ball’s gone. Don’t ask how, just trust it.” It is not pleasant, there’s no point trying to pretend otherwise.
Even strikes from the centre were muted, dull, and vaguely functional. Catch it even slightly off? Thud. Clank. Pow. Like an old episode of Batman. It felt like putting with an old filing cabinet. Feedback was so blunt it was hard to tell if you’d hit it pure or just close enough to “meh.”
There was none of that responsive crispness you’d get from a milled Scotty or a soft carbon steel blade. The Anser 5K’s face basically shrugged at you. A functional, joyless shrug.
THE PERFORMANCE: Stability Without Soul
Now, to its credit, it was stable. Very stable. It held the line, it forgave your toe pokes, it stayed square when most blades would throw their hands up and veer wildly off course.
But the price of that forgiveness was feel, feedback, and finesse. This wasn’t a putter you’d use to caress a 25-footer into the cup. It was more like knocking putts into submission.
If your putting stroke lacked rhythm, the 5K didn’t help, it just added weight to the wreckage. Lag putting felt like rolling bowling balls uphill. Tap-ins felt like overkill.
The Anser 5k was a bit like a blunt scalpel – it worked but it sure as hell didn’t make you feel like an artist.
WHO WAS IT FOR?
Golfers who liked the idea of a blade but secretly needed mallet forgiveness.
People who wanted stability without the spaceship.
Mid-handicappers tired of three-putting with museum-piece blades.
Early adopters of “performance over prettiness.”
IN A NUTSHELL
Was it a classic?
Not even close. It was a detour in the Anser lineage – interesting, but ultimately a dead end.
Did it work?
Kind of. It was stable. It was straight. It just forgot to be enjoyable.
Would we recommend it now?
Only if you collect weird old Ping gear, or you enjoy numbing your hands on a frosty morning.
Why didn’t it take off?
Because traditionalists hated the chunk, and mallet lovers wanted more chunk. It was stuck in the middle, neither one thing nor another.
BANG AVERAGE VERDICT
2.5 out of 5 deadened heartbeats. A lesson in why more forgiveness doesn’t always equal more feel and why some clubs are better left in the archives.
Disclaimer: The Anser 5K won’t ruin your putting stats, but it might kill your passion for the art of rolling the rock. Handle with low expectations.
