Golf: Devenport has a bag of unusual tricks

By CHRIS RATTUE

Paul Devenport did not have a golf bag of magic wands at Middlemore. But after scoring two over in his first round he is still called Magic by his fellow pros.

And today, whether the 36-year-old makes the cut or not, he will be up to his usual tricks running a coaching clinic at the New Zealand Open.

Devenport, who started out at the Paraparaumu Beach club, has always had a fascination with magic tricks.

At 21, he saw a magician in action, worked out one of his tricks, and so started a sideline in sorcery.

He always carries a deck of cards in his golf bag, along with other props such as a cigarette lighter and rubber bands.

They don't often come out during professional tournaments - not unless Devenport knows his playing partners really well.

His wife Kim - who caddied for him at Middlemore - is Canadian. They have a house in Victoria, British Columbia, and Devenport is seeking residency.

His magic acts, which include a couple of golf tricks, are part of the package when he looks after small groups of corporate clients there.

And if you ever end up with Devenport in a Pro-Am, or go to one of his coaching clinics, you are likely to see him turn a $5 note into a $20 before your eyes.

"I don't saw people in half - nothing like that. Mine are about sleight-of-hand," he says.

"I just always had a thing about magic. I was always good at solving puzzles.

"It's just for entertaining friends most of the time, like some people play the guitar.

"Most of my tricks are only suited for small audiences. I could have my biggest-ever crowd here so I'm not sure how it will go."

The magic act is an unusual club in the bag of a professional golfer who has battled the usual struggles of life on tour.

Devenport has had his triumphs, winning four times in Canada. His best years have brought in about $200,000.

He still dreams of making the US PGA tour, and has had five attempts at making it through the qualifying school.

Each costs about $15,000, which includes the entry fee and expenses.

He has missed making the final school by a shot on two occasions and during the past few years, his bank account has persuaded him to give qualifying school a miss.

"I'd love to play the tour, but it's not life or death," he says.

"Qualifying school is just another tournament, although it's expensive for blokes like me, and at the end of it you can end up with nothing.

"The past year has been miserable for me. You spend a lot of time looking into a suitcase in little hotel rooms.

"It's a pain in the arse sometimes, then it's the greatest thing in the world. Suddenly you have a couple of good tournaments and life's fantastic.

"But only a very small percentage of players lead a life of luxury."

One day, Devenport hopes he will have both the tricks and treats.