Bob Cramer's Blog

I’ll admit it, over the past 30 days,  golf has consumed my life.  

From the moment Delta’s wheels touched down on ATL terre ferme, completing an early August no-golf trip to Sweden and Denmark (fabulous countries by the way), golf has jumped up, grabbed me by the throat, and demanded much of my attention.

I’d like to blame my good friends at Buckhead Golftec for much of this, especially Emily, my instructor, for creating an animal.  Me. She has worked to transform a mild mannered Clark Kent into a country club Superman, without even needing an S on my chest.

They say hard work pays off, and handicaps do not lie.  My index is falling right alongside the Nasdaq.   My GHIN phone app keeps asking me if these numbers are correct, a question I find a bit disrespectful but sort of tantalizing as well.

No more than 36 hours after my jet lag return from Europe, there I was on the first hole, being announced to absolutely no one listening.   “From Atlanta, GA via New York City, the two-time Dessert eating champion and most boisterous man in the locker room, Bob Cramer on the tee.  Play away please.”   

And with that, I was off, competing in the highly coveted Senior Handicap-Stableford scoring,  55 and over, 36-hole championship.  My fancy schmancy country club takes the Handicap part of this equation very seriously:  you must have had a replacement part installed and light up an airport metal detector to qualify.  Since I now fit the bill with the November, 2021, new hip addition to Team Cramer, the Vegas odd makers had me as a solid contender, especially if I started with the frozen vodka drinks before teeing off.

I do want my loyal reader(s) to know there is no monkeying around in country club tournament golf.  You must putt everything out.  I mean in the hole.  No begging, no asking for your Momma, simply shut up and make it.  Now that is harder than expected especially with the early morning start, too much coffee, and slow body absorption of Advil and alcohol.  On the first hole both days,  I missed a 12-inch putt and a 6-inch putt respectively.  So I said it.

This story has a happy ending.  Despite these slight hiccups, yours truly rallied back, trounced some good friends I was playing with the first day, and shot a personal best 78 day two to jump all the way into the Runner Up position.  So there.

My post-tournament press conference was filled with the usual questions: what have you been offered by the LIV tour?  Why is your two-ball putter missing one of its white circles? How can you possibly hit it so short?  After completing my media duties, I wandered into the pro shop to see what to buy with my well-earned shop credit.

But I am not done yet.  There is much more to share.

A few days later, I went to Day One of the Coke-sponsored Tour Championship at East Lake where the top 30 players who have not deserted to LIV play for what seems like a billion dollars.  With an offer of a free ticket, I  coerced a buddy of mine from boarding school who loves golf to go with me, and we made our way out onto the course, with no umbrellas, under very threatening skies. 

Anyway, the weather started getting rough, and our tiny ship was soaked.  My friend and I took refuge in the trees hoping this was just a passing shower.  Dumb move.  The trees did nothing and we decided to take decisive action and run for it.

Leading the way, the first covered place I could find was the backstairs exit to one of the many hospitality suits on the property.  Declaring this an emergency as the heavens opened up on us, up we went, barging into a hospitality suite, throwing ourselves on the mercy of the court.  That just happened to be the nice people from United Rentals, who were quite sympathetic to our plight.  So sympathetic that we stayed with our new friends for three hours, drinking their drinks, eating their food, watching the TV coverage, and promising to rent a forklift sometime in the future.

Inspired by watching the pros and with my faith restored in the kindness of strangers, I decided to invite another friend to play with me in the annual Lobster Boil tourney at my fancy schmancy club.  It is quite a nice event, and while it required taking out a home equity loan to pay for it, the combination of competition, food and friendship was too alluring to resist.

So you may guess where this is going.  Let me just let the Club’s email to all the contestants speak for itself:

“Thank you for participating in the 2022 Lobster Boil.   What a great day it was on the course. There were some fantastic scores out there and the camaraderie and fellowship followed suit. Congratulations to our North Course Lobster Boil Champions Bob Cramer and Steve Ficarra who shot an impressive 60…..”

Enough said.  Golf is very fickle and the golfing gods don’t like too much bragging or bling.  So I’ll just say this:  while it’s true that I have tremendous upside from here, with my new winnings I am contemplating buying an 11 wood. Seriously.  So if you know the game, that probably says everything you need to know.