THE COURSE CLOWN

Billy Balata grew tired of putting for dough. Too much strain on the nervous system.

Now, he putts for show. He drives for show, too -- right through the front door of bookstores behind the wheel of a golf cart. Then he sets up his kooky putting green and the fun begins.

Customers of all ages and sizes try their hands at sinking three putts beneath the “broken golf club mobile” for prizes like T-shirts and playing cards.

Sometimes, Balata -- his real name is Billy Muster (“I never even used Balata balls,” he said) -- slips the contestant a lopsided ball that wobbles like an egg when struck. Customers giggle, but the golfer gets a break.

“How’d that one get in there?” Balata says. “Just for that, you get a mulligan.”

The schtick is part of a book signing, of course. Balata, who will appear at Borders in Northridge at 2 p.m. Saturday, is there to plug his paperback, “Being the Ball: A Self-Help Golf Satire.”

But he tends to spend more time clowning with customers than signing copies of his book.

“That’s the goal,” he says. “People take golf too seriously.

Balata, 42, reached that conclusion while knocking his head against the cart path -- that’s only a slight exaggeration -- trying to become a pro.

Finally, he gave up, adopted a pen name and went from competitor to humorist.

“There was a time in my life people wouldn’t want to play with me, “ he said. “I was an extreme case. I got so close to the flame, I got upset about everything. I was too wrapped up in the game.”

Balata was born in Encino but grew up in Phoenix, where he competed as “just another high school golfer.” He failed to make the Arizona State team as a walk-on and gave up the game for several years.

At 28, Balata, figuring practice would make perfect, began playing 36 holes a day and started competing again. He never broke 70, but he broke more than a few clubs.

He walked away from competition for good after taking a 16, believe it or not, on a par-four hold at Oro Valley Golf Course in the Arizona stroke play championship. “I hit a three-iron out of bounds, a five-iron out of bounds, a seven-iron out of bounds. . .” he said. “I threw each [club] out of bounds.”

Among the book’s tongue-in-cheek chapters is “Anger and the Fine Art of Club Tossing,” which includes throws like the “tomahawk” and “helicopter.” Illustrations are provided.

Through poking fun, primarily at himself, Balata says he’s just trying to get golfers to lighyen up.

“It’s a lot of joking around, teaching people to laugh at their shortcomings,” he said. “But it teaches people to enjoy the game.”