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Most players can tell how they’re hitting the ball by the way it sounds coming off the club. Hall doesn’t have that luxury. He depends entirely on feel.

“Hearing is huge,” Paul Azinger said. “There is no mistaking the sound of a bad shot. I bet that if you stuck earplugs in any player’s ear, it would neutralize his game. I think this guy is amazing.”

Hall doesn’t have casual conversations with his caddie as they stroll down the fairway. They must be face-to-face for Hall to read lips. And if that doesn’t work, Hall keeps a pad of paper in his bag to write notes. His caddie at Pebble Beach, Dennis Mitchell, tapped him on the shoulder on the fourth tee, then used hand motions to remind Hall to keep his hand cupped on impact.

These are moments when spectators realize Hall is deaf.

“I don’t act like a deaf person,” Hall said. “I talk, I laugh, I can read lips. But when they see my signing, then I see their eyes going, ’Oh, what’s he doing? What’s that?’ And then their faces look like idiots, and my dad has to explain I’m deaf. Their reaction is priceless.”

Matt Hansen played two rounds with Hall in New Orleans and called it one of the best moments of his rookie season.

“I had to make sure there was eye contact, and I was better at that today,” he said after the second round. “It’s amazing he can compete on this level. I would have thought being deaf would be a big hindrance. But this is a special player.”

Percy Hall wasn’t sure how to proceed when doctors told him his son was deaf. He learned sign language and devised games to teach Kevin how to communicate. And he was determined to treat Kevin as a normal kid, telling him that being deaf would not keep him from doing whatever he pursued.

“My wife and I promised to do whatever it took to give him a chance to be successful,” Percy Hall said.

Kevin joined a bowling league and carried a 205 average. He played baseball. But he found his passion in golf, and he found inspiration from a junior clinic in 1998 when Tiger Woods came to Cincinnati.

Woods made his way down the long line of juniors, stopping to give a word or two of advice and encouragement. When he reached Hall, the teenager was hitting the ball over the range and into the backyards of houses. Woods spoke to Hall’s mother, Jackie, who signed the instructions — for more length, extend his arms to get a wider arc in his swing.

The next tee shot went 30 yards farther, and Hall’s smile lit up the practice range.

Woods also smiled and left Hall words to consider: “See you on tour someday.”

Hall believes he will get there eventually. The sponsor’s exemptions — Milwaukee and the Texas Open last year, Pebble Beach, New Orleans and the Memorial so far this year — have shown him how far he has come and what he needs to improve, mostly his short game.

Even while missing the cut, he has never felt he doesn’t belong. He doesn’t believe he is dreaming too big.

“I see life differently than other people,” Hall said. “I almost died when I was very young. I was sick. When I got through that, I lost my hearing. And I said, ’I’m not going to give up.’ I got a second chance at life. God gave me a second chance. So I don’t see myself being out of my league. I don’t have time to say, ’Oh, my God, I don’t belong here.’ What I do have time for is to enjoy life one day at a time.

“If I think that I’ll be good, then I probably will,” he said. “I just have to keep on working hard and never give up.”