Maginnes: An equal opportunity disappointer

I can't imagine having to play the Stadium Course at PGA West every day. If you are a high handicapper before long you'd probably want to take up tennis. A good therapist and antidepressants might be required for a low handicapper.

Don't get me wrong, I think that it is a great q-school venue. It tests every part of your game. But any miscue and you are either short-sided with no hope or you have drowned your Titleist in one of the water hazards that Pete Dye scooped out of the dessert. The Stadium Course is, without question, the most visually intimidating golf course that I have ever seen. It reminds me of an imaginary course on Golden Tee.

John Maginnes escaped disaster in 2002 at PGA West. (WireImage)

In 2002, after a little help in the second stage, I was headed back to the finals for the first time in several years as a grizzled old veteran. It had been more than a decade since my first trip to the final stage. I had lost my PGA TOUR card in 2000 and played a couple of seasons, primarily on the Nationwide Tour with the odd TOUR event thrown in for good measure. I had reached a point in frustration where I was considering getting an honest job. The game was at the dawn of the power revolution and starting to squeeze out the powder-puffers like me. I needed one more season on the PGA TOUR, though, to become fully vested in the TOUR's retirement program. Not to mention, there were all the unrealized goals and dreams that hung in the closet of my career.

The qualifying tournament is an equal opportunity disappointer. It doesn't discriminate based on age or anything else. My attitude going into that q-school could not have been worse. Barry Williams, who won with John Rollins at the B.C. Open, was caddying for me. It was his first q-school finals. Looking back, I have to say that he was more motivated than I was. He was young and excited and throughout the week his exuberance became contagious.

I actually played consistently well all week. Going into the final round I had shot par or better in every round and was inside the number by three shots. Of course, I made three bogeys on the first nine to fall hazardously close to the line. On the 10th hole, a diabolical little par 4, my fortunes changed. You hit your drive over the water to a sliver of fairway that is lined by a lake on the left and then you are faced with a short iron to a green with water in front. The hole location was just on the front of the green about 12 feet from the water. I had 137 yards to the flag. Barry and I agreed that it was a perfect 9-iron. After further discussion, we agreed that I hadn't hit a perfect shot all day so I should try to hit the 8-iron 30 feet or so behind the hole. We didn't want to throw it all away on one swing. I can't tell a lie; I chunked the 8-iron. Not a Wednesday pro-am chunk but a TOUR player chunk. One that flies about 10 yards shorter than the player wants.

Barry knew immediately from the sound of the sod-grabber that this ball needed to get up and before it had flown 40 yards he was begging. I started begging, too. It cleared the water by no more than 12 inches and because it had the kind of spin that a 14-handicapper puts on a 3-wood, it bounded forward toward the hole. When we reached the green my ball was a mere 18 inches from the hole. All we could do was laugh.

From there, we generated some momentum and got the other two shots that I had thrown away on the front nine back. With two holes remaining, I knew that I was well inside the number. If you haven't seen the 17th hole on the Stadium Course at PGA West, I can tell you that it has the same effect on a golfer as blue lights in the rearview mirror when you are transporting a corpse. It is a downhill par 3 with an island green. Comparisons have been made to the 17th at THE PLAYERS Stadium Course at the TPC Sawgrass but they are unfair. The 17th in Palm Springs is 30 yards longer and plays from an elevated tee. It is aptly nicknamed Alcatraz because there is no escape.

When my group reached the 17th tee there were four groups backed up there. Vance Veazey was on the tee. He immediately shanked his ball into the desert, missing the lake entirely. Amazingly, his ball bounced off a rock and kicked back toward the lake. And through one of the luckiest breaks I have ever seen, it ended up on the ladies tee just short of the water. From there he actually wedged it on the green and made the putt for par. He went on to par No. 18 and finish inside the top 30.

There was complete silence on the tee as this was going on. Every player knew that you could spend an afternoon on the 17th. Two or three bad swings and you could shoot yourself out of the tournament. You could literally run out of balls.

After a long wait, I managed to keep my Titleist dry on No. 17. I even made a long putt for birdie. A scrambling par on No. 18 and I finished safely inside the top 10, which would insure a few extra starts on the West Coast the following year.