Singer Solves His Pressing Problem : Maverick Golfer’s Casual Attire Will Yield to Tradition for U.S. Open

The United States Golf Assn., a stodgy and conservative group, gave all entries advance notice.

The dress code at the U.S. Open will be strictly enforced, the literature said. Those with a scruffy appearance--a subjective call to be made by the USGA--could face disqualification.

In short, better look GQ or face DQ. Unshaven Mark Singer, an unknown professional from North Hollywood, went shopping.

“Man, I don’t have a thing to wear,” he said. “All I found that I liked was a plain white shirt. . . .

“I kind of like earth tones, too.”

How on earth Singer qualified for the storied event, the colorful centerpiece of golf’s Grand Slam, is a mystery to many. There isn’t much in Singer’s recent past to suggest that he should be pressing callused palms with the privileged few.

Shoot, up until a few months ago, Singer’s daily garb rarely varied. He formerly worked part-time as a locker-room attendant at Valencia Country Club. Hardly glamorous stuff.

“Shined shoes sometimes,” he said. “Wore a little uniform.”

The uniformity of American golf’s most-hallowed event has been shattered. There’s a rogue in the rank-and-file ranks at Baltusrol Golf Club, and he is a self-professed golf bum who shaves when he feels like it, works when it’s absolutely necessary and tees it up whenever possible.

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Singer said with a smile. “But believe me, I’m not gonna choose hard work if I have a choice.”

Some of the folks in Springfield, N.J., may work overtime on this fact: Ben Crenshaw, Hal Sutton, Tom Purtzer, Bobby Clampett, Jodie Mudd, Bobby Watkins and Phil Mickelson didn’t qualify for the event.

But Singer, 27, has a player’s pass in his back pocket, where it isn’t likely to get lost in a wad of hundred-dollar bills.

*

Many people spend four years in school. Singer has played on the Golden State Tour since 1990, plying his trade, honing his game, learning, soaking it up. Believing better things and bigger bucks are ahead.

He wants to graduate.

A brief synopsis of the PGA Tour’s qualifying process: Player enters qualifying school hoping to earn his tour card. Hundreds try, few succeed. Owning a PGA Tour card is like carrying American Express plastic: You Don’t Leave Home Without It.

Second-tier players compete on the Nike Tour, formed three years ago for those whose games weren’t quite up to PGA Tour standards. It is pro golf’s equivalent to Triple-A baseball. And mini-tours such as the Golden State?

“Double-A is a good analogy,” Singer said.

Singer’s best season on the Golden State came in 1990, when he won the Central California Open, got his name in the local papers and finished in the top five for the year in earnings. He estimates he made a little more than $30,000 in prize money.

This season, Singer is 16th on the Golden State earnings list with $8,192. He is coming off a second-place finish in the Buenaventura Pro-Am earlier this month, for which he earned $1,750.

Make no mistake, it is not an easy way to make a living. In a typical three-day tournament, Singer said, as many as 125 players each put roughly $450-$500 into a pot. Organizers subtract greens fees and expenses; the remainder is prize money.

“It’s like gambling,” Singer said. “I’m 16th on the list, but about even money-wise on the year. That barely covers living expenses.”

Not that he has much in overhead. Singer lives at his girlfriend’s apartment in North Hollywood. The telephone is listed in her name. Most of the time, he drives her sports car. The company she works for pays much of the rent because she works at home.

Her boss last week gave Singer a $500 credit line at the posh Lake Sherwood Country Club to buy clothes for the Open. Singer didn’t bother to shave before he went browsing. Other than giving a few lessons now and then, he has doesn’t have a job.

Singer doesn’t seem to mind the arrangement, by any means. Sure, he has sacrificed job security and anything vaguely resembling a credit rating in choosing this lifestyle, but who cares?

“Basically, I’m a golf bum,” he said, grinning. “Believe me, I am so much still a kid. I don’t really ever want to grow up too much.

“Don’t let me fool ya. I don’t have my (stuff) together.”

*

Singer, rooting around in his closet, can’t seem to find what he’s looking for. “Oh-oh, a casualty,” he said, pulling a broken Ping putter from the pile and tossing it aside.

Finally, he finds the scrapbook. The clippings have yellowed. See Singer with the Pete Rose haircut, circa 1983. See him make headlines in his hometown paper.

See him in the seminal stages.

Singer took the traditional route into the professional ranks. He was a standout player in high school and led Simi Valley to the Southern Section team championship as a senior in 1984.

Turn the page.

See him progress.

The following year, at Ventura College, he won the state junior college individual title.

Two years later, he was one of the top players at San Jose State, a nationally competitive NCAA Division I team. He quit school and turned pro after his junior year.

He set his sights high, though he failed to earn a berth on either the PGA or Hogan tour in his only attempt at qualifying school in 1990.

No more pages.

See him hit the wall.

All golfers reach it sooner or later, the point at which improvement and advancement grind to a halt.

“It’s been a little frustrating,” he said. “It’s not that simple, though, not like I’ve really had the opportunity to go to that next level.”

Sure, it takes money to attend qualifying school, which is why he said he hasn’t tried the past two seasons. It also helps to have sponsors to underwrite expenses. Singer once had a sponsor, but didn’t like all the strings attached and ended the relationship.

He just can’t seem to put it all together.

“He’s always had a tremendous amount of skill,” said Jay Paris, Singer’s high school coach. “It’s always been a matter of focusing-in on anything.”

Paris has followed Singer’s career closely since high school. Not much has changed, the coach said.

“He’s a journeyman who can’t seem to find himself,” Paris said. “He’s got all the shots. He just can’t seem to zero in. If he does, I think he could play on the PGA Tour.”

Singer always has been somewhat, well, unpredictable. Somewhat unstable. As a sophomore at Simi Valley, Paris said, Singer and future pro Sam Randolph of San Marcos were locked up in a memorable battle when Singer came upon a dogleg hole.

Singer chose to hit a driver off the tee, and belted the ball through the fairway and out of bounds. After the penalty, Singer hit the driver again, with the same results. Randolph blew past Singer as the latter self-destructed out of sheer stubbornness, Paris said.

“I hope the Open is a turning point for him,” Paris said. “I hope it helps him get his game, and his life, straightened out.”

So do many others. Even Singer’s friends say he’s a little flaky. Don Fiala has known Singer since junior high and both played at Simi Valley.

“He’s never had a real good sense of responsibility,” Fiala said.

Like Paris, Fiala believes that Singer has the right stuff on the course. Once Singer gets his priorities in order, look out. The question, of course, is when .

“When he grows up,” Fiala said. “Maybe when he gets forced out on the street. Maybe when his back’s against the wall.”

Singer sees no real barrier between himself and the tour bigwigs. He is steadfastly convinced that the difference between the PGA princes and the bush-beating paupers is almost nil.

“Guys like Couples and Faldo and Norman, I want to play with them,” he said. “I want to play with them and beat ‘em, then look at ‘em like I’m looking at you.

“That’s my whole mission in life, man. That’s all I’m here for. That’s what inspires me.”

In terms of the four majors, the U.S. Open ranks second to none. The pressure has gotten to the best of them.

Singer (6-foot-2 1/2, 170 pounds) didn’t sleep well last week. He hopes to battle the anxiety by taking things one jittery step at a time.

“Just get the ball on the tee, then get the club on the ball,” he said, laughing. “I’ll just keep my hat pulled down.”

Has Singer pulled the wool over his own eyes? He is confident of his ability, to be sure. Perhaps overly so, because there is no room for self-doubt or negativity in this sport.

“I’ve got the same type of game those guys have got,” he said. “It took years to get it, but I do and I know it.

“Getting out there is what’s so hard. And then staying out there’s pretty hard, too.”

Singer got his foot in the Opendoor with a slight assist from the USGA schedule-maker. The first qualifying tournament Singer entered was in Santa Cruz, at the same course on which he played at San Jose State. He advanced to the sectional qualifier June 7 at oh-so-familiar Valencia, where he was once employed.

He tied for third in a field of 59 amateurs and professionals at Valencia, earning one of four Open berths with a 36-hole total of even-par 144.

Now, his tee time has come. And the blue-blazer crowd at the USGA tent better stand on alert.

Singer, you see, has a few ideas that separate him from the standard pro player. Or, at least, from the upper echelon.

“One reason why I want to get on tour--and this will sound a little crazy--is because I saw this thing last fall where they polled 50 guys on tour and asked who they were going to vote for,” Singer said, referring to the presidential election.

“I’d like to think that professional golfers somewhat mirror everybody. But 49 guys said Bush and one guy said Clinton? Have all you guys just sold your souls? That’s pathetic to me.”

No matter what he claims is his motivation, Singer is hungry for a shot at the big time. He would like a piece of their professional pie and their La Mode clothing sponsorship. He wants their courtesy cars. He would like them to gag on their silver spoons.

“A lot of those guys are total (sissies),” he said. “A lot of them know no adversity at all.

“I want to drill these guys. I want to get out there and beat them, then tell everybody about it.”

If it doesn’t work out, Singer will have to retool his aspirations considerably. Many players who fail to eke out a living on tour become club pros. A life of competition and pressure gives way to marketing plaid slacks and hosing down the cart barn. It’s not all that bad.

“I have no interest in being a club pro,” he said. “It’s management, retail, and a little bit of P.R.

“Playing golf has nothing to do with being a club pro. This is my life. This is what I do.”

At least, when he’s in the mood. But what the heck, everybody has a few flaws, right?

“You don’t have to swing perfectly,” he said. “You don’t have to putt perfectly. But you have to play at a certain level, and you can tell if guys are there.

“I feel I’m there.”