DINGED DIGIT ADDS TO WOES; EX-UCLA STAR PAVIN STRUGGLES TO FIND CURE FOR WHAT AILS GAME.

Byline: KAREN CROUSE

One of the shots that killed Corey Pavin's first round on Thursday was fired into a grassy knoll.

Discharged from the tee box at the par-5 No. 1 hole at Valencia Country Club, the projectile whistled through the trees and disappeared into grass as thick and coarse as straw. A search party that included Pavin's playing partners Woody Austin and Gabriel Hjertstedt quickly fanned out in the area.

Pavin's longtime caddie Eric Schwarz stumbled upon Pavin's golf ball less than a minute before PGA Tour rules would have dictated that it be left for dead.

There are plenty of conspiracy theories as to why Pavin's game has steadily gone downhill since 1995. That year he won his second consecutive L.A. Open title at Riviera Country Club and his first major, at the U.S. Open at Shinnecock Hills.

The evidence itself is incontrovertible; it's as sharp and clear as a freeze-frame of Pavin standing sideways on the hill alongside the first fairway, holding a wedge in his hands to do a weed-whacker's work.

It's hard to resurrect rounds riddled with poor drives and bad lies. Pavin's putter performed valiantly on Thursday, never more so than on the first green (his 10th hole of the day) when he stroked in a sloping 12-footer from the fringe to escape with a bogey.

All told, the former UCLA standout would take 24 putts in fashioning his 4-over-par round of 75. That's one fewer than first-round leader Billy Mayfair recorded on his way to a 65 and nine less than Tiger Woods needed for his 68.

The difference between contending and confounding? Pavin, 38, hit just five of 14 fairways and six of 18 greens in regulation. The golfer who hit a 4-wood as pure as ivory to set up his winning putt in the U.S. Open is now just as apt to chunk a pitch shot.

Cold, gusting winds merely heightened Pavin's misery.

``My swing was just a little off,'' he said. ``It's not quite in sync.''

Pavin's rhythm hasn't been right since he switched clubs, from Cleveland to PRGR, after his nifty '95 season, in which he won a career-high $1.34 million in official money and another $1.46 million in three unofficial events during his so-called offseason in November and December.

To be sure, he spread himself thinner than a skulled shot as money-making opportunities presented themselves by the Brinks truckload. He paid for it dearly last season, recording only one top-10 finish (a tie for eighth in his first event) and failing to finish among the top 80 on the money list for the first time since 1983.

Of the 11 cuts he missed in 22 starts in 1997, four, including the U.S. Open, were by a single stroke. That gave Pavin a little something with which to rebuild his confidence along with his game during this past offseason.

He worked hard and so far this year the results have been encouraging if not headline-grabbing; three consecutive sub-70 rounds at the Bob Hope en route to a 43rd-place finish, a 3-under-par 141 through two rounds of the weather- suspended Pebble Beach tournament and two rounds in the 60s at the Hawaiian Open on the way to a tie for 64th.

If Pavin's going to get a grip on his game, he's got to be able to properly clinch his clubs. That hasn't been easy this week because of an infected left index finger.

Pavin, an Oxnard native who now resides with his wife and two sons in Orlando, Fla., attended the Lakers' game against the Magic at Orlando Arena on Sunday. While there he decided he might as well have his finger, which he had noticed was swollen and discolored around the cuticle, checked out.

Pavin sought out the Magic's orthopedic surgeon, whom he knows, and the doctor strongly suggested removing the fingernail at once. To do anything less, he said, would be to risk having the infection spread into Pavin's bloodstream.

The 15-year Tour veteran covered the finger in a bandage on Thursday, but he couldn't hide from his caddie the discomfort he felt whenever he gripped a club.

He could have fooled his gallery on some of his shots, including a chip for a birdie on his first hole (No. 10) that grazed the left lip of the cup. But for every shot like that there were a few like his drive on the par-4 13th, a dogleg left, that crossed the out-of-bounds markers on the far right on the fly.

Pavin clearly does not have the same look as the guy who shaved 29 strokes off par on his way to winning his two L.A. Open titles. Last fall he took a razor to the mustache that had been, from the time he joined the tour, as much a part of his game face as his steely stare.

Some of Pavin's fans on Thursday were overheard talking about his clean-shaven face with a wistfulness borne of superstition.

``Someone,'' said one fan in Pavin's gallery to another, ``should tell him to grow the mustache back.''

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Photo

PHOTO (Color) Corey Pavin watches the progress of the ball after making a little chip from the rough. He finished with a 4-over-par 75 on the windy day.

Tina Gerson/Daily News