For Sam The Price Is Always Right

"Loose," he said.

He stopped at the bunker by the practice tee and deposited another bouquet of balls.

"I used to be the best sand player on the tour," he said matter-of-factly, moving into the trap. "Put it where I wanted, whichever side I wanted." His wedge flashed, and a ball popped through the cloud of sand and hit to the left of the flag; another hit right. The third skidded too far past. "At least I thought so," he said. "Here, I'll open the blade a little. See?" Another soft explosion, and the ball popped out, hit, ran gingerly and rimmed the cup.

"I've always had keys for myself like that. I don't understand it when I read, 'Nicklaus says he has to go see Jack Grout to check his game.' Shoot, I never took a lesson in my life except for shagging balls for my brother Homer. When I was a young pro at The Homestead I asked Fred Gleim to help me a couple times. He said, 'Hell, you're a pro.' "

You gotta understand what Sam came from. Nothing. A barefoot hillbilly with a couple shirts and a pair of wool pants, and it was a new world. The first exhibition I got for him he said, "Be sure to say I'm from The Greenbrier. They pay me $45 a month." Well, he learned early. The Greenbrier docked him $11.25 for being nine days late after he almost won the Masters that year. The thing about Sam is that he wants to win at everything he does. Golf, cards, pitching pennies. My eight-year-old daughter was in her room one time, and Sam went upstairs to visit her and play some gin rummy. My daughter said, "Uncle Sam cheats." I said,' 'Sam, did you fool around with that deck?" He said, "Sure. I was just having fun." I asked him once when he was at the top of his game if he'd play my brother John for $5 even. He said, "Well, how good can he play?"
FRED CORCORAN , VICE-PRESIDENT, INTERNATIONAL GOLF, SNEAD'S EX-MANAGER.

On his way to the first tee Snead stopped long enough at the Pine Tree snack bar to purchase a hot dog and a diet cola. His companion ordered a chicken sandwich.

"Half or whole?" the waitress asked.

"Only place in the world you can buy half a sandwich," said Snead. He stuffed the hot dog in his mouth and put his foot down hard on the throttle.

Chuck Kelly was already on the first tee, waiting with a florid-faced man named Jim Raymond, who draws the comic strip Blondie, and the tall golfer from the practice tee. His name was Chuck MacCallum, a Florida real-estate man. He had been Pine Tree's club champion twice. At age 15, in Midland, Mich. , "when I was young and full of myself," MacCallum said, he got promoted into a driving contest with Snead. He said he hit three balls, the last one "about as far as anybody could hit it. Sam got up and hit his first one past me on the fly. With a four-wood." Snead said he did not remember the episode.

"How many shots you giving me?" MacCallum asked.