Between recording, touring, acting and amor -- he married Jennifer Lopez in a surprise June ceremony -- Anthony hardly needed another time-consuming activity. Golf just happened. He was in Hawaii in January 2003 for the Sony Open to sing at a party for pros and VIPs when he accepted an invite to the Wednesday pro-am. "I had never played in my life," says Anthony, 35. "When I birdied the 4th hole, I didn't know what a birdie was."

Ever since, the man whose velvet voice makes entranced fans sweat has had a serious case of golf fever. He bought a fairway home at Doral Golf Resort & Spa in Miami, where he takes regular lessons from a pro at the Jim McLean Golf School and plays four or five days a week. And if you think winning two Grammys puts you in elite company, know that Anthony is also among the Friends of Tiger. The two hit it off when the crooner appeared at Tiger Jam VI in Las Vegas in 2003. Woods sent his new pal a thank-you note and a Nike putter.

When Anthony's not trash-talking, he's just plain talking. Chatting away on the 17th tee, he needs to be reminded why he's there. "Sometimes I forget to hit," he says sheepishly. "I hate when that happens." At the 18th green, a crowd watches as a film crew rolls. "He's a true performer," says Scott Kraul, 29, Anthony's teacher and friend. "When there's a camera or an audience, Marc focuses and just nails it." True to form, Anthony stalks his slippery 12-footer, steps up and knocks it in. "My first legitimate par in tournament play," he says with a killer smile.

Like a young Frank Sinatra, Anthony has a svelte frame, chiseled cheekbones and a voice that can cover a stage with lingerie. And like Ol' Blue Eyes, the New York City native has real acting chops. He delivered a gritty, much-praised performance as a disturbed homeless man in Martin Scorsese's Bringing Out the Dead (1999) and recently played a wealthy Mexican industrialist opposite Denzel Washington in Man on Fire. (In the latter film, Anthony got to show off his swing on a golf simulator. He liked the simulator so much, he went out and bought his own.)

After today's round, teacher and student hit the range to work on the basics. Square feet and shoulders. Head still. Stay balanced. "I didn't know you could have so many thoughts at once," Anthony says. Balance isn't a big problem -- he weighs only 130 pounds. "The hardest thing on earth is finding shirts," he says of his men's small polos. "I have to go on the Internet." When it comes to his sticks, though, the world's best-selling salsa singer doesn't surf eBay. "I went into the shop and told them, 'Gimme the most expensive clubs you got,' " he says of the day he bought his Honma irons, Japanese imports which sell for up to $22,000 a set. "It was a testosterone-fest."

Marco Antonio Muniz grew up in Manhattan's Spanish Harlem, one of eight children born to Puerto Rican emigres. His father, Felipe, worked in a hospital cafeteria while his mom, Guillermina, looked after the kids, who two days a week had to speak only Spanish. (The tattoo on Anthony's right arm is a Chinese symbol that means singer, but don't tell Guillermina: "I told her it means 'Mom' so she wouldn't kill me.") The house rule paid off when, in 1993, Anthony's first of three salsa albums propelled him to Latin music stardom. His 1999 hit, "I Need To Know," cracked the top 10 and made him a crossover star. He's now planning a fall tour of North America to promote his latest CD, Amar Sin Mentiras (To Love Without Lies). When he's on the road, he plays golf whenever and wherever he can.

Maybe it's the solitude that draws Anthony to the course. In January he split with his first wife, former Miss Universe Dayanara Torres, the mother of his two young sons. (He also has a 10-year-old daughter from a previous relationship.) Then he married Jennifer Lopez, which boosted the media heat. The couple exchanged vows during a small ceremony at Lopez's Beverly Hills home, placing him square in the crosshairs of a J.Lo-obsessed press. Goodbye, Bennifer. Hello...MarLo?

The Ocean Club's range is blessedly free of paparazzi, so Anthony can swing without harassment. He's fighting the dreaded chicken wing, and Kraul wants his charge to release the club through impact. "He's the best 28 handicap I've ever seen," says Kraul. "He'll make a gorgeous birdie, then he'll have an eight."

After a long day -- 18 holes and two hours of range time -- Anthony returns to his room to study tape of his swing. His next tee time is just hours away, and he's counting the minutes. "I can't wait!" he says, sounding very much like a man in love. It won't make the tabloids, but this relationship is built to last.