There is nothing quite as unsettling as sleeping on the cut line. After being taken off the course yesterday due to darkness on the 17th tee (a 230 yard par three surrounded by water), I went to bed at +3 (the cut line). I was the last player on the course. The other players that did not finish, withdrew because they did not have a chance to make the cut this morning. Par-Par would get me a minimum check of $1300 on my morning holes. Any score over par and I go home empty handed. I woke up at 3am and was restless until I went to the course at 5:50 to finish.
I hit a pure 4 iron to the back pin and left myself a 25 footer on 17...two putt. One par down. 18 is a 460 par 4 with o.b. left and right and water surrounding the green. Needless to say, these were not the two holes you wanted to have to finish with pars on at 6 in the morning to make a cut. But that's the job sometimes.
After two nervous swings and a misread chip, I had 7 feet straight downhill for par...to make the cut. My hands shook a bit as I stood over the putt. There could have been a million things that went through my head, I tried to focus on only one: my target. I struck the putt and watched it fade towards the right edge. It hit the edge, spun around the side and fell in the back of the cup!! I threw a Tiger-esque fist pump in front of the tour officials who cheered. I had made the cut. The putt was worth over a thousand dollars and I had come through in the cluth. It may have only been to make the cut, but it was an epochal personal victory.