PEBBLE BEACH, CALIF. - On your scorecard, mark down a whiff for George Lopez on his first swing at this week's AT&T National Pebble Beach Pro-Am.

When I offered Lopez a chance to kick off his favorite event with a big bang by making headlines from here to Hollywood, he foozled his niblick, so to speak.

Here's the deal: Bill Murray is the absolute king of the Pebble Beach Pro-Am, the top drawing card (when Tiger's not around) and a crazed, amazing, nonstop, 18-hole show.

Lopez, America's Mexican (that's the title of his Grammy-nominated comedy album), began playing the Pebble Beach event four years ago and he is a huge hit with the galleries.

A rumor has circulated the past couple of years that Murray and Lopez don't get along. Comedy egos collide. Murray considers Lopez an interloper, or Lopez is envious of Murray's legend status here.

And really, what's juicier than a good superstar feud?

Murray isn't in the field this week because of his day job, movie-acting. In fact, there are rumors that he might have played his last AT&T. So it's the perfect time for Lopez not only to take top billing, but also to go public with the feud.

No dice.

"For some reason, man, some people don't think me and Bill get along," Lopez said over the phone last week. "I don't think [that's the case]. He seems to be pretty cool."

Lopez said the rumor probably started four years ago in the Wednesday Celebrity Shootout, an anything-goes giggle-fest with heavy celeb interaction. Some observers observed that the two big comedians, Murray and Lopez, didn't interact with one another.

Lopez said that was because the two had not met. To this day, they haven't spent much time together at the tournament.

"Are we friends?" Lopez said. "No, because we really don't know each other."

But respect? Lopez has tons.

"Bill Murray wrote the handbook [of celeb-golf comedy]," Lopez said. "The greatest thing I've ever seen was when he pulled the fish out of his bag."

Murray left some huge shoes to fill this week, but Lopez can work a gallery. Comedy-wise, he swings big, doesn't lay up. He studied Murray but has his own style.

Gives his time -- and money

At the first tee every year, Lopez stands on a brick wall and flings $1,000 worth of 20-dollar bills into the crowd.

"I'm like Pacman Jones, man," Lopez said, "I make it rain on the first tee."

He crowd-surfs, he cavorts with dogs, he kisses old ladies, he sips beer and shoots tequila with the folks.

Under the clowning, Lopez is a dead-serious golfer who credits the game with saving his life, reshaping his personality. Growing up, he was a sad, angry dude, abandoned by his real parents and raised by grandparents who were as cold as a bad putter.

Lopez had a huge chip on his shoulder, and he played golf angry -- cheating, swearing, throwing clubs. He eventually came to realize that the only way he could come to terms with the game he loved was to treat it with love and respect, which were foreign emotions to him. He had to work hard, and learn. When he broke through, his golf improved, and his life changed dramatically.

"Golf taught me patience, honesty and balance," Lopez told me a few years ago. "It helped me find a center."

Last week he said, "Golf saved my life. I repay it by going to church every year."

Church is the pro-ams. Lopez plays a few other events, and is the official host of the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic. But Pebble is Lopez's home, literally. He and his family have a home just up the hill from the third fairway.

And it's an honor for him to play here. He repays the honor by spreading laughter. He'll do whatever it takes, including -- like Murray -- playing the wardrobe card. One day this week, Lopez will sport a kilt.

"Sans undies," Lopez said. "Just a kilt and Gold Bond. You can't get any more refreshed than that."

But a feud with Murray, that's one sure-fire attention-getter Lopez won't touch.

"I hate to see him not be here," Lopez said. "I'll just have to pick up the slack. I always pack a bag of tricks. I'll just pack a bigger bag this year."