Pearson, a Late Starter, Making His Mark at Riviera

Let’s try to put Rick Pearson’s rise toward the top of the leader board at the Los Angeles Open in perspective: If he wins the tournament, he will earn $125,000 more than he has earned in eight tumultuous years as a professional golfer. If he finishes 19th , he’ll more than double his career earnings.

Pearson repeated his opening-round score of 67 despite bogeying the 18th hole on Friday. His two-day total of eight-under-par 134 left him in a five-way tie for second place, just one stroke out of the lead.

Not a bad show for a guy who had:

--No invitation to play in the tournament as recently as Thursday morning.

--No PGA card as recently as last year.

--No golf swing as recently as three years ago.

Some golfers arrive at tournaments amid much fanfare, buzzing the course with their own jets or screeching up in enormous limousines. Comparatively speaking, Pearson comes to golf tournaments at night, his face painted in camouflage streaks as he crawls through the shrubs, hoping the security guards don’t spot him.

Then, at daybreak, he changes into golf clothes and hopes several of the real golfers get sick.

Thus far, the 29-year-old has been a career alternate, playing in a tournament only if enough regular PGA Tour players cannot or do not want to play that week. His is a life of going to tournaments and waiting for openings that usually do not occur.

Pearson got his first PGA card in 1982, then proceeded to haul down a whopping total of $4,200 in prize money, roughly the same amount earned by the head of valet parking at the Masters each year.

His dismal showing left him 210th on the money list, and only the top 125 get tournament exemptions for the next year. The rest get asked to go away, which Pearson did. But he came back in 1983 and earned his tour card for the second time. And promptly lost it again by earning $3,964 and finishing 212th on the money list.

During the past four years, Pearson failed four times to regain his playing rights, settling instead on mini-tour events in Florida that had no names.

It was during this period in his life that Pearson, who had never taken a golf lesson, came to the conclusion that his golf swing, if one could call it that, could stand improvement.

In three years under the teaching of Jimmy Hodges at Sea Island, Ga., Pearson thinks a new golfer has been created.

“When I realized how bad my swing was, it frightened me,” he said. “It just didn’t work. Under any kind of pressure, it just went off. It was bad.”

How bad? Well, during his attempt to regain his tour card in 1986, he needed only to shoot a 78 on the final round to qualify. He shot an 81, including a 10 on one hole.

But soon his new swing began to feel more comfortable, and the old machete-like chop that had dragged Pearson into oblivion disappeared.

He worked out a few more kinks early this year at Pebble Beach, finishing at one over par and in 38th place in the AT&T; tournament. He finished 29th the next week in the Hawaiian Open, but missed the cut by two shots last week at San Diego.

But the swing was feeling even more solid, and Pearson headed to Los Angeles as the third alternate in the L.A. Open. Two players withdrew early, and Pearson moved into the on-deck circle. And when Mark O’Meara bolted from his bed at 3 a.m. Thursday and headed rapidly for the bathroom with the flu in close pursuit, Pearson was in.

He was notified at 6:30 a.m. as he walked across the practice green at Riviera, his Friday morning airline ticket back to Jacksonville, Fla., tucked safely in his pocket.

“To be honest, I figured I was outta there,” Pearson said. “At that point, I was just thinking about what I could do to kill some time for a day before my flight left.”

Third alternates seldom even get into a tournament let alone being one stroke out of the lead after 36 holes.

And perhaps just as remarkable as Pearson’s performance thus far is his firm belief that he just might be the guy who gets the winner’s check Sunday.

“If I had my old swing,” he said, “I’d be thinking right now, ‘I’ll probably shoot 80 tomorrow.’ Now, I don’t feel that way. I’m under control. I’ve played above average for two days, but I haven’t played really terrific. I’m not playing way over my head.”

Perhaps part of the reason that Pearson is feeling no pressure is that very few people know Pearson is playing in the tournament. O’Meara’s withdrawal was so sudden that officials didn’t have time to replace his name with Pearson’s in the program.

“For two days, every time I’ve made a birdie I’ve heard, ‘Great putt, Mark,’ ” Pearson said. “At first I wanted to wear a T-shirt that said, ‘I’m not Mark O’Meara.’ But now I don’t care. As long as they send me the check, the people can call me whatever they want.”