Maginnes steps back into golf, remembers why he left

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John Maginnes last played a U.S. Open in 2003 and has refreshed his appreciation for the difficulty of the game.

Have you ever wondered why the "door close" button on the elevator almost never works? It is because most hotels and large buildings disable it for whatever reason. Let's blame it on the insurance companies or rude guests. Even knowing that, I still push the darn thing all the time -- it makes me feel better.

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Imagine being on the 21st floor of a hotel and getting on the elevator only to discover that some kid had lit the panel up like a Christmas tree so that it would stop on every floor on the way down. You have a hot date waiting in the lobby, and the darn button doesn't work. All you can do is settle in for the slow, constantly interrupted ride to the bottom and hope that you are greeted with a smile.

This is exactly how I felt when I teed it up in a U.S. Open local qualifying event last week in South Carolina. It was my annual day of real competition each year. I chose the qualifier at Secession Golf Club down on the coast of South Carolina for a couple of reasons. It is a terrific layout carved out of the marsh with no houses in sight and water hazards on every hole. Not to mention, the promise of sunshine and an inviting day at the coast was just too much to pass up even though there was a local qualifier 10 minutes from my house in North Carolina.

What is it they say about the best-laid plans? On Tuesday morning, we awoke to battleship grey skies and 35 mph winds. The local paper said that the 58-degree high on Monday was a record low by 15 degrees for that day in May and that Tuesday wasn't going to be any better. The weather man was right for once.

I am not sure why my hands were shaking so badly on the first tee, so let's blame it on the cold. The fact that my ball failed to clear the hazard by a couple of feet can be blamed on the inability of my body to do what I was asking it to do. The door close button had been disabled a long time ago. But the bogey at the first was quickly followed by a birdie at the second, and all seemed to be right with the world -- at least for a moment. We won't talk about the provisional that I topped because it didn't count.

I came into the qualifier more prepared than I had been the previous two years. I had actually played a couple of rounds of golf the week before with Curt Byrum in Greenville, N.C., where we were covering the Nationwide Tour's BMW Charity Pro-Am. Byrum was trying to get ready for his Champions Tour debut at the Senior PGA Championship, and I made sure he had a little extra cash for the trip. But even with those two days of golf the week before, I was playing the golf course blind, rusty and ill-prepared.

Needless to say, the day was long, hard and ultimately fruitless in terms of the golf. The company was good, though -- a beautiful friend came down to caddie for me, and the kid from Clemson whom I played with was respectful. The property manager from Myrtle Beach was amusing and a pretty good player, although none of us was within six shots of advancing. Days like Tuesday require a level of precision that demands practice, patience and fortitude. At times, I did manage to show signs of each; however, it was rarely at the same time.

The irony of the weather, the situation and the ultimate outcome was actually compounded later that night on Sullivan's Island just north of Charleston. We drove up to meet a friend for dinner. The decided destination, Poe's Tavern, was a familiar one to my companion but new to me. I didn't realize that the Poe in question was in fact Edgar Allen himself. The lively crowd and the well-lit atmosphere were in direct contrast to the foreboding quotes on the wall and the ominous ravens that stared from every corner.

"Once upon a midnight dreary while I pondered weak and weary," echoed from my past, memorized in its entirety back in fifth grade -- never to be forgotten.

I think that it is important for someone in my position to leave the comfort zone of the media center and remember just how humbling this game really is on occasion. It is easy to forget the enormity of the moment even when ultimately those moments don't matter now, and the ones that did are gone forever -- "quoth the raven, nevermore."

Once again, my decision to step away from the game was confirmed, but without Mr. Poe's bitterness or resignation. I was lucky enough to enjoy the ride to the higher floors of professional golf. Although the key to the penthouse eluded me, it was a great ride. And the best part was that I stopped on nearly every floor on the way up. Let's just say that the descent was a bit more rapid and far more permanent. Turns out the "door open" button doesn't work on that ride either.

John Maginnes is a columnist for PGATOUR.COM. His views do not necessarily represent the views of the PGA TOUR.