So, when I started thinking about golf while a Wisconsin blizzard was raging outside, my thoughts turned to those youthful days, and then to The Cragin and the fact that 1998 was going to be the 25th anniversary of our tournament. Yeah, I knew that since we began in 1973, this year was actually the 26th time we'd be playing, but what the hell. Everybody kept messing up the real turn of the century, too. I wanted to do something special for those guys to commemorate our lives and friendship together. And, as my Dad always said, "It ain't gonna hurt to ask." So I did.
On that blustery day, I sat down and wrote letters to Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer. Both letters said basically the same thing -- we grew up in Chicago, we play The Cragin every year, we grew up pretending to be them, I thanked them for, at least in part, contributing to our love of the game. Much of what I also wrote to them is also covered in the page about the Beginnings of the Cragin, even our mixed sets of clubs and our 800 yard holes at Hanson Park. I also asked both men if they can be part of our celebration. To be honest, I asked them both to play at first. Now that would have been a real kicker, eh? I figured that they could both come and beat the pants off us and show us all how Hunter is supposed to be played. I also figured that the chances of me winning the lottery, becoming President, and beating Bear and Weasel all in the same day were greater than Jack or Arnie showing up. So I asked them for what I thought was the next best thing, autographed pictures. I asked for enough for everybody in the tournament.
After I sent off the letters, I went back to winter dreams of just playing golf, and didn't give Jack or Arnie much thought. Then, in March, I got a letter from Arnie's assistant. She very nicely told me that Arnie just couldn't meet all the autograph requests, and that 26 photos were simply too much. She kindly offered one photo of Arnie. I quickly accepted and started mentioning a surprise for The Cragin. I still hadn't heard from Jack, though.
After his exceptional showing in The Masters in April, I thought I'd write him another letter congratulating him on his fine play. In this second letter, I mentioned that I had not heard from him about the photographs. About a week later, I got a strange voice mail. I standing there and a woman's voice says, "Mr. Mocarski, this is Debbie Falcone from Jack Nicklaus's office." The Wife, who was watching me listen to the message, tells me that my jaw dropped. Then Ms. Falcone said that they had sent me email that must not have gotten to me, and that they were going to honor the request for all the photos I requested. The Wife tells me that my jaw dropped to my knee caps as I was grinning from ear to ear like a possum in a garbage can.
I did more than mention a surprise for The Cragin. I told Bear to tell Weasel that I had a surprise. I wrote Weasel saying that he better not have the damn tournament when I'm in Florida in August. I told them both that they better have a roll of toilet paper for the bricks they were going to have coming out of their rear ends. Fortunately for Dennis, he decided to hold the tournament in July. I told him I was going to be one pissed off Polack if he had it when I couldn't be there.
Bear tried to get me to tell him what it was when we got together for a round in late May. Dennis's niece in Burlington, whom I have in homeroom, tried to get me to tell her. Most everybody else just thought I was nuts. When I said Cragin Surprise, they thought I meant I was going to win this year with some secret weapon or something. Yeah, like there's anything I could do, secretly or otherwise, that would make me shoot any better. I just mentioned that everybody should be prepared to be surprised.
After getting the photographs from Jack and Arnie, I actually put them in our home safe. I didn't want them lost in the pit I call the basement or burned up in a fire.
In May, I figured there's more to The Cragin than just the photos. So, I wrote to the Mayor of Chicago, Richie Daley, and the Governor of Illinois, Jim Edgar. I told them, too, about The Cragin, growing up, yadayadayada. They both wrote letters congratulating us as well.
When Dennis finished the awards and trophy presentations, he turned the floor over to me to tell everybody about the history I wrote. I passed out the book and told people not to open them yet. I went into my spiel about the friendship and camaraderie of The Cragin, and started talking about the surprise ending. I mentioned the letters from the mayor and governor. Some jaws dropped. I mentioned the photo of Arnie. More jaws dropped. I think the kicker came when I didn't pass out a copy of the history to Bear, Weasel, or Bob. I held those back until everybody was impressed with just the photos from Jack. I waited a moment, and then told everyone that I grew up in a foursome of great guys. Bob, Dennis, and Gregg. When I golfed, they were with me. That's why I had Jack personalize the photo to them individually. I think their jaws dropped as far as mine did when I got that phone call in April. I could, I think, almost see the same dampness I have in my eyes whenever I think of true friends.
So that was The Cragin Surprise. It really is what The Cragin has always been about -- a bunch of old Polacks who grew up as friends and stayed that way all their lives.
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