
This week marks the start of the 2008 PGA TOUR Qualifying Tournament, better known to you and all those involved as q-school.
I've been around the game of golf my entire life. I've had my short-term flashes of brilliance just like the rest of you hackers out there -- and I'm one of you, so that's not a put-down -- but I've never been q-school material.

| Your take? | |
|
Even still, that hasn't stopped me from going to the first of the three stages twice -- no, not as a player. As a caddie for a good friend of mine.
Through those experiences, I learned quite a bit in terms of what q-school is all about. I figured I'd share a little of that here, seeing as 'tis the season for realizing dreams ... or having them broken.
When you arrive to your first-stage site, you're allotted a couple of practice rounds before the tournament begins. What really struck me the first time I set foot at TPC Tampa Bay during one such q-school adventure was the fact that you could pretty much look at the guys on the practice green or the practice range and easily distinguish between the contenders and the pretenders.
The contenders had their heads down, so focused and so meticulous on every practice shot that it was as if each ball they struck had major championship implications. They were practicing with a purpose.
The pretenders, on the other hand, were in awe of watching the business-like contenders on the range, rather than focusing on what they needed to get done.
Players taking naps during q-school weeks is as common as 3-year-olds napping at pre-school.
Silly, but true. After a practice or competitive round, it wasn't uncommon to hear guys making plans for the evening, saying, "I'm going to head back to the hotel to take a nap for a couple of hours, head back here to practice for a bit and then do you want to grab dinner?"
Maybe it just seemed odd to me, being a no-nap kind of guy, to listen to grown men scheduling nap-time into their daily routine.
While all these guys are competing against one another, they're also one another's biggest cheerleader. It's the gentlemanly thing to do in golf, you don't root against someone. But at q-school it's at a whole new level.
Part of it may stem from players not bringing their coaches to q-school. I suppose the thought is you don't want to over-think situations on the course. Just go out and play.
However, if a guy does struggle in a practice round, or any of the competitive rounds thereafter, it's not uncommon to see another competitor walk over and offer up some unsolicited assistance on the practice green or on the range.
These guys truly are each other's friend, coach and therapist.

Even before I experienced q-school for myself, I always held the belief that you could just as easily call it cruel-school.
The reason is it only happens once per year. In a fickle game like golf, that just doesn't seem fair.
Imagine working your tail off for 12 months on your golf game -- a fantasy for most, I know -- but needing it to absolutely peak for three specific weeks in order to gain playing privileges for the following season on either the PGA TOUR or the Nationwide Tour.
Suppose in the weeks leading up to the first stage, you're firing rounds in the 60s like nobody's business, dominating all comers. Then you tee it up at q-school, have one lousy day and in turn, have your dreams shattered, wondering what in the world you're going to do with your life for the next 12 months until q-school comes around again.
Unfortunately for most, that's reality.
Through the years there's been so much written and said about the q-school process. It's almost like listening to fishing stories.
When the ordinary Jane or Joe who works multiple jobs to support their family hears someone talk about the grueling nature of q-school, their first instinct is to thumb their nose. After all, how hard can life be when you're playing golf for a living -- and scheduling nap-time?
But q-school can make you sick. Literally. I've seen it, which brings me to this final beauty:
This happened at my second q-school looping gig in Houston a few years back. A much-heralded Texas amateur player had just turned pro and was expected to cruise through the first stage.
I can't recall the precise circumstances, but on the final hole he needed something like bogey or better to finish on the number and advance to the second stage. I was standing just to the left of the 18th green with my player and a bunch of others. That's where the scores were all posted and many guys were exchanging congratulations and good luck to those who were already locks to advance.
Meanwhile, back on the 18th green, the can't-miss-amateur-star-turned-pro three-jacked from about 20 feet. The disgust was evident in his mannerisms as he walked off the green, berating his putter before throwing it at his bag.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the scoring area after signing his card, walked over to the enormous board that showed all the scores, saw the cut line, saw that his name would be posted just below it, and proceeded to lose his lunch on the spot.
For the guys teeing it up at q-school, it's like an annual date with your first love. It either goes perfect and you live happily ever after, or you have your heart irreparably broken, complete with lovesickness and condolences:
Better luck next year.
T.J. Auclair is a columnist for PGATOUR.COM. His views do not necessarily represent the views of the PGA TOUR.