Editor's note: John Maginnes , a 10-year TOUR veteran who now works as an analyst for the PGA TOUR Network on XM Satellite Radio , has been sharing his expertise on PGATOUR.com this year. Over the next eight days, he's going to try to put into perspective the overwhelming pressure players feel at the final stage of the PGA TOUR National Qualifying Tournament.

By John Maginnes
Special to PGATOUR.com

As I sort through the boxes stored in the virtual attic of my memory, it occurs to me that there could be some labeling issues. In other words, the accuracy of my memories from q-school is constant fodder for my own internal debate. I tend to remember the year based on the hotel where I stayed. If I was coming off a decent year on the PGA TOUR, I stayed somewhere relatively nice. If I was coming off a mediocre year on the Nationwide Tour, it was several to a room in a Super 8 -- and there is nothing super about that!

The 1993 finals are more vivid in my mind for a couple of reasons, though. One, I was sponsored by a friend at the finals who rented a condo at La Quinta for my brother and me. I was coming off a decent, yet unprofitable, season on the Canadian Tour -- a year that saw me drive a Honda Civic from Vancouver Island to Prince Edward Island with Patrick Sheehan. So the digs in Palm Springs that December were a little nicer than some of the housing to which I was accustomed.

The second and far more important reason that I remember that q-school so vividly was that it was the first time that my name had ever appeared in a book. At the time the things that John Feinstein wrote about me in A Good Walk Spoiled were less than flattering, although he has since made up for it in other books. I was window dressing in a feature on Mike Donald. Mike had lost the U.S. Open to Hale Irwin three years earlier, yet here he was at the finals of q-school playing with me, a young punk coming of the Canadian Tour. So the 1993 finals are the only ones that I actually have a point of reference, unflattering as it is, other than the combination of memory and imagination that have filled all previous pieces.

Back then there was a cut at the finals, although there isn't anymore. After four rounds played over two golf courses the field was reduced and all remaining competitors played the same course over the final 36. Now all competitors play six rounds over two golf courses. Mike and I played together in the third and fourth rounds. I have gotten to know Mike over the years since, and he is the nicest grumpy person that I have ever met. That is exactly how I found him in 1993, too. Considering the heights to which he had climbed, it must have been heartbreaking to be in q-school that year. This is a man who had won the 1989 Anheuser Busch Golf Classic and lost that playoff at Medinah in 1990. However, playing with me he was nothing but encouraging and supportive.

I remember thinking that I needed a birdie on one of the final two holes to make the cut and guarantee that I would at least have exempt status on the Nationwide Tour for 1994. I hit my tee shot on the par-3 eighth, my next-to-last hole, just to the right of a back-right pin location. The ball landed on the green and then trickled off the green into the water. When I completed the hole, Mike, who was also struggling to make the cut, said to me, "This hole still matters." What he meant was that every player there would have some status on the Nationwide Tour the following year, and your access to tournaments would be based on your finish at the finals.

I honestly don't remember what I made on the final hole. Maybe it is in John Feinstein's notes somewhere, but I doubt it. What I remember most vividly was sitting in the clubhouse an hour or so later with my brother. He had caddied for me that week and we were trying to figure out how many tournaments we were going to get in the following year. We were also trying to figure out how we were going to pay the mounting bar tab. Mike walked through the lounge and I invited him to join us for a beer. He graciously declined the invitation. He obviously didn't want company and I couldn't blame him. However, when my brother and I asked for our bill the bartender informed us that Mr. Donald had taken care of it.

I learned a lot that week. One of the things I learned is that when you don't make it through q-school your phone does not ring. No one knows what to say. Mike was telling me that with his gesture. I also learned quite a bit about motivation. Feinstein did not leave much doubt about what he thought my future in golf would be, and looking back I can't really blame him for his impression. I write and broadcast now because I can't play anymore. However, I get paid for those things -- not because I am necessarily good at them but because of the miles I traveled after that q-school.

As you read my accounts of q-school you will find that they always involve other people. Some are people you are familiar with and some are not. I often wonder, looking back, if I would have had more success as a player if I had been more single-minded in my focus. For example, I can recall every shot that Tiger hit the first two rounds of the B.C. Open in 1996 when he played with Joe Daley and me. But to paraphrase something that I have heard Mike Donald say many times, "Do you think Tiger was paying one bit of attention to you?" (Or, words to that effect.)