THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, July 12, 1995 TAG: 9507120512
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BOB MOLINARO
LENGTH: Long : 160 lines
The part of Carl Paulson's golf game that has developed the most this year sits under his cap.
``My mind,'' he says. ``Getting my mind in the right place at the right time. That's the secret.''
It's no secret that golf is the loneliest game. When putts won't fall and the fairways start to look like cart paths, a PGA rookie needs more than a strong back and a big swing.
Golf, Paulson knows, ``is probably the only profession where, if you're in the top one-half of 1 percent, all it does is give you a chance to make money.''
In six months on the big tour, Paulson's chances have been slim and none. After nine tournaments, he's won $5,056. Greg Norman spends more than that each month on jet fuel.
But if you're Carl Paulson, and everything is in working order under your cap, you come to the Anheuser-Busch Classic at Kingsmill feeling good and eager.
After missing the cuts in your first seven PGA events, you have steadied yourself by winning some pocket change at the Greater Hartford Open and the Memphis FedEx Classic. It's a start.
``I feel like I belong out there,'' the former First Colonial High and University of South Carolina player says. ``I've learned that golf is what I want to do and the tour is where I want to be.''
If Paulson has lost any enthusiasm for the tour, it is not obvious to me. The last time I talked with him at any length, we were in Honolulu - he to play in his first PGA Tour event; I to write about it.
Neither of us did much work that January week. Paulson and his caddie flew to the islands only to be bumped unexpectedly from the field of 144 when several more established pros entered the Hawaiian Open at the last minute.
``It's kind of a bummer,'' Paulson said at the time.
And then he hit the surf. As bummers go, it could have been worse.
Paulson's PGA debut was delayed two weeks. He was back in Virginia Beach when he got a phone call to hurry to California for the AT&T.
He jumped off the plane in time to tee it up that Thursday at Pebble Beach. But with no chance to practice or familiarize himself with the course, his game was as cold and stiff as the Pacific winds. In two days, he was back on the plane.
Counting the trip to Hawaii, Paulson had flown about 18,000 miles to play two rounds of golf. Too bad for him the PGA doesn't rate players according to frequent-flier mileage.
For six more weeks, it was two rounds and out for Paulson. But while his confidence took an occasional beating, his upbeat disposition held firm.
``I refuse to stay miserable all day just because I played a bad round of golf,'' he says.
I liked the kid's spunk in Hawaii, the way he handled the disappointment. But, then, being idle in the islands is not exactly jury duty.
To refuse to feel miserable after missing seven consecutive cuts is something else again.
``You've got to understand,'' he says, ``this is a five- or six-year process. When I get into my prime, which is in your early 30s for a golfer, I want to be one of the best players.''
He already is one of the tour's biggest hitters.
In Hartford, he opened some eyes by driving the green on the 300-yard par-4 15th hole during Thursday's first round.
John Cook, an established pro, was on the green when Paulson's group played up. Later, he told the rookie how impressed he was with his power.
He wasn't the only one.
``About 20 people were watching,'' Paulson recalls. ``They followed me the rest of the tournament.''
At 5-feet-9 and 180 pounds, Paulson is solidly built. He has a loose and easy swing. He concedes that Davis Love III and John Daly are bigger hitters. Maybe Fred Couples, too.
``But I'm a little longer than most of the rest,'' he says.
A little younger, too.
At 24, Paulson is the third-youngest player this year with PGA Tour privileges. He's just a babe. But in six months, he has come to see the tour with old eyes.
``The courses surprised me,'' he says. ``People don't understand how difficult these courses are out here.''
He also found out first-hand that if you shoot over par, ``even if it's just 1 over par, you get lapped.''
The lessons were learned the hard way. But after making the cut at Hartford, he got a glimpse of how good the tour could be.
``You get out there on Saturday morning and half the field is packed up and gone,'' he says. ``There are only about five other guys on the practice range. About 500 people are watching you warm up. At Hartford, I must have signed 1,000 autographs that weekend. It was so much fun.''
Paulson's mind must really be in the right place if he can focus on the fun and not the bottom line.
To finish in the top 125 this year, and remain eligible for the tour, he needs to earn in the neighborhood of $140,000.
``I think I've got a pretty good chance,'' he says. ``That sounds kind of funny when I've only got about $5,000. But I'm playing decent golf now. It only takes one week.''
Meanwhile, there are bills to pay. Helping with expenses are eight sponsors - family, friends and one member of the Cavalier Golf & Yacht Club.
With the help of his father, Ned, Paulson raised $60,000 to get his carer off the ground. Almost all of his early winnings this year will be used to pay back the debts.
He is also promised $5,000 for wearing a shirt by Pure Point 5, a clothing company that, like Paulson, is a tour newcomer. This is in addition to the $250 he gets for every week he wears the Pure Point 5 hat in a PGA or Nike event.
Playing a handful of events on the Nike circuit has added another $5,750 to his bank account.
None of this helps him climb into the magic 125.
How tough is it to stick on the tour the first time around? Well, Paul Azinger and Mark Calcavecchia, just to name two popular millionaires, attended qualifying school three times before becoming mainstays.
Paulson knows all about the obstacles. He's just not ready to give up on the year.
``It's a real streaky game,'' he says. ``Eighty percent of the money you make is won in 20 percent of the tournaments you play.''
He figures he'll play in eight or nine PGA events after Kingsmill.
``That's plenty of time,'' he says. ``That's plenty of chances. I know I'm good enough to play out there. It's just a matter of doing it.''
And believing you can do it.
About a month ago, after missing two cuts by one shot, Paulson paid a visit to Bob Rotella, noted University of Virginia sports psychologist. He spent two days at Rotella's home, working on his inner game.
The sessions with Rotella dealt mostly with putting. Putting means money. Why do you think they call them greens?
But putting has not come as easily to Paulson as other parts of the game. Rotella set out to change his approach, to put his mind in the right place.
``He told me to remember three things,'' Paulson says. ``One, it's a putting contest every week. Two, you hit the ball as well as anybody, so you'll be in the putting contest. And three, you love that it is a putting contest.''
Armed with this positive reinforcement, Paulson went on to Hartford and Memphis. Suddenly, the holes started looking bigger.
``It worked,'' he says. ``I've still got a ways to go, but I'm putting better than I ever have.''
At Kingsmill, Paulson will be more than just another flat-belly.
``There will be a million people out there who know me,'' he says.
If they had a chance to see him up close, away from the course, they might be convinced that golf is not the grim business it is sometimes made out to be.
``When I'm with other rookies,'' he says, ``we're always laughing a lot. There's time for goofing off.''
And for savoring a special lifestyle.
``Golf has already given me a free education,'' he says. ``All the travel I've done and the people I've met have made this a great year. If anybody ever comes back and says I've failed at golf, they're crazy. Everything from here on out is an added bonus.''
If Hartford provided Paulson with a feeling of relief, Memphis was a sign that more is within his reach. All of a sudden, Paulson is getting impatient.
``I don't want to take this step-by-step,'' he says. ``I'd like to win this year. That may sound crazy to you, but it is a possibility to me. If I can play four rounds of golf without getting in my own way, I think I can win.''
The rook makes two cuts and he's already got himself lifting a crystal trophy and waving an oversized check.
But why not? Why keep your ambitions under your hat? Why not dream big?
Isn't that what getting your mind in the right place is all about? ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
MORT FRYMAN/Staff
CARL PAULSON
by CNB