Canadian Tim Nedow has thrown 20.77m, Australian Damien Birkinhead 20.75m and Glasgow champion, Jamaican O'Dayne Richards, 20.61m.
Don't expect the TAB to see too many wagers on them when the Kiwi bear performs his ballet in the throwing circle.
On March 25, Walsh heaved a new personal best of 22.67m, 36cm better than his last, when he defended his world indoor championship on March 3 in Birmingham.
He is now history's sixth-equal farthest thrower, level with American Kevin Toth, who delivered his put in 2003. The following year Toth was banned for a positive drugs test and retired.
No one has thrown further than Walsh since May 1990, when American Randy Barnes threw beyond 23m twice within a week. Barnes tested positive for steroid use in August that year. Recidivism saw him banned for life in 1998.
The other four completed their throws between 1975 and 1988.
A lot rides on Walsh's reputation for unimpeachable integrity since storming to his first major precedent; bronze at the 2014 world indoor championships in Poland.
Interviewed afterwards he said: "If you told me I'd be in this position at the start of the year, I'd have said you were bat-s**t crazy.
"Fingers crossed this is what I'll be doing every New Zealand winter for the next 10-15 years."
So it has proved. He has become a dominant figure in the discipline.
That makes him a sound challenger for flagbearer alongside the likes of swimmer Sophie Pascoe and cyclist Hamish Bond when the announcement is made today.
Games experience? Tick.
Olympic medallist? Tick.
World champion (indoor and outdoor)? Tick.
Articulate and self-deprecating? Tick.
Builder used to lugging 2 x 4 timber onto construction sites? Tick.
In Walsh's hands, the New Zealand flag might resemble something you'd pop in a cocktail at happy hour.
WALSH'S RISE to prominence has been about more than throwing a stone.
New Zealand sports fans appreciate the way his skills are matched by chutzpah and home-spun decency. His personality transcends the sport. We're not talking Muhammad Ali just yet, but there were whispers his home town of Timaru might become "Tomaru" to celebrate his return from Rio. He loves a beer and a pie; he sports a cheeky grin; and he wears his Mum's Ross clan tartan to the annual Halberg Awards.
Add the following bucket list items to appeal to a local audience since he became world champion in August:
1. Building and moving into his first home in Christchurch. Tick.
2. Constructing a deck. Tick.
3. Sourcing, sawing and sanding a slab of West Coast native timber for his dining room table. Tick.
4. Getting an operation on his nose to reduce his snoring. Tick.
5. Mastering his tight-rope walking across a 10m slack line before Christmas Day lunch. Tick.
6. Completing a trampoline somersault as part of a Twitter mockumentary. Tick.
7. Cooking a juicy pork loin. Pending.
Walsh brings a quirkiness that would be difficult to manufacture.
That came to the fore on a hunting trip in Marlborough last year with rival Americans Ryan Crouser and Ryan Whiting, and Birkinhead.
He and Crouser shared a love of hunting; he and Whiting enjoy swinging their golf clubs; he and Birkinhead bond as Antipodeans.
A pre-dawn stop prompted a Walsh query whether he could whip up the tarpaulin and delve into the picnic basket to "have a nibble" on the homemade bacon 'n' egg pie packed by the mum of Athletics New Zealand events manager Gareth Archer.
He held court from a beanbag during a tour of one of the region's local wine estates and gave an expert insight on a Sounds cruise into life as a builder and how houses are built without roads leading in (clue: helicopters).
During the deer stalking, Walsh switched into competitive mode, shimmying through the back country dawn with twinkle-toed stealth that would earn mute but nodding approval from the SAS.
"Tom's one of those guys who can be making a joke a minute before he throws, then he turns into a whole different person who is zoned in," said Crouser, the Rio Olympic champion.
Convincing such a stellar shot putting cast to visit New Zealand also reflects Walsh's industry clout.
The circumstance draws parallels to the bargaining power of running trio Sir John Walker, Dick Quax and Rod Dixon in the late 1970s and early 1980s.
Walsh's nature builds trust with rivals, but when he needs to morph gregariousness into a game face, his focus is as steely as the 7.26kg ball he heaves for a living.
A seminal moment at the end of 2015 helped. Walsh had beaten every major competitor at some point in the season and won his maiden Diamond League meet in Brussels.
"I feel like I belong," he said at the time. "I know how I got there and how it felt. It's a lot easier once you've done it, and thrown consistently over 21m in the process. I don't want to be a blip in the ocean.
"Two years ago, I thought 'these guys are gods'. Last year, it was 'how the hell am I here?' This year, they're starting to respect me and believe I'm a threat.
"I've definitely made some mates, but I hate losing to them."
He was crowned the overall Diamond League champion in 2016 and, despite his rise to throwing stardom, further endeared himself to Kiwis by refusing to relinquish his tool belt with Mike Greer Homes in Christchurch.
Walsh enters the Games as New Zealand's affable talisman. His performance will resonate across the team's campaign.
