Tadd Fujikawa turned professional yesterday, but fully acting the part is, thankfully, going to take a while.

I mean, how many young golf phenoms suddenly gone pro act as doormen at their own press conference, clearing the way for arriving TV cameramen? Helping misdirected media find the right place? Working the room, signing autographs for Waialae Country Club staff and passersby?

In that the Moanalua High junior-to-be was hardly changed from the grinning, glad-to-meet-you 16-year-old who charmed thousands when he made the cut at the Sony Open in Hawai'i there six months earlier — and then tried to personally thank every one of them.

For all the attention and accolades garnered in the interim, Fujikawa's head was still able to fit in the red golf cap. "He's just so humble it is unbelievable," marveled autograph-seeker Alice Yee. "So genuine," said Waialae pro John Harman.

"The only thing that has changed is there will be a 'p' after my name instead of an 'a' " on official lists, Fujikawa maintained.

Coming from anybody else that statement would be greeted with John Daly-sized cynicism. With the 5-foot-1 Fujikawa, whose chin barely topped the podium, you were inclined to believe him — and pray it will hold up.

If such a momentous day could be said to be low-key, this one was. Especially in contrast to Michelle Wie's dazzling coming-out press conference 21 months ago. Although the sites of their announcements were little more than the swing of an 8-iron apart, the differences between them were remarkable and, of course, telling.

Fujikawa did not make a grand entrance into a swank hotel ballroom as part of a full-orchestrated, invitation-only production flanked by representatives of multi-national corporations. Instead, Fujikawa, ever his own man, did a solo stand-up on the lawn outside the Waialae dining room as curious tourists sauntered by on the beach behind him.

There was nobody from a Beverly Hills agency to powder his nose and adjust his shirt, just a proud and anxious mom as dad documented it with a video recorder. And the event was not part of a live satellite hookup to New York, Los Angeles and San Francisco. It was just family and a circumspect agent in the background while Fujikawa promised to "try and make Hawai'i proud."

Nor was there an eight-figure guarantee to celebrate and a phalanx of corporate spinmeisters to discuss it. Just the hope that in the beginning he can attract enough money to pay for coaches and travel, the staples needed to advance a just-beginning-to-bloom career until he can try to win a PGA Tour card in 2009.

For all of those reasons, there was little doubt this was Fujikawa's press conference and, apparently, his idea of turning pro. It had his signature all over it as surely as if he had scrawled it with one of the Sharpies constantly thrust at him to sign autographs.

You came away with the feeling the leap at the pro dream is very much his doing. That it is a concept he finally sold to reluctant parents who, for months, have been torn between not wanting to deny their son what he needs to grow his game but not ready to go crushingly broke trying to finance it at upwards of $60,000 a year, either. Nearly the amount of money he walked away from because his amateur status did not allow him to collect checks earned competing against pros at Sony and the Pearl Open.

Too bad, really, especially with that box of letters from colleges that was always filling up at Moanalua High. But, perhaps, inevitable, too.

"When you look at the total situation, I'm not sure there were a lot of other feasible choices for him if he really wanted to make progress with his game," said Mark Rolfing, NBC and Golf Channel commentator. "He wants what will give him the best chance to improve his game."

Time will, of course, render a verdict on the wisdom of the decisions and whether Fujikawa's game can back up the step those hopes and dreams have taken him to.

In the meantime, as for how will going pro change Fujikawa the person? We'll have to get back to you on that because as close as anybody could tell yesterday, he was the same Taddster.

And, that was a good thing. Maybe the best thing that could have come out of the day.

Reach Ferd Lewis at flewis@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8044.