MacCallum laughed with the others.
On the 18th Chuck Kelly put a long midiron inside Snead's ball, which was already on the green, eight feet from the pin. Snead, standing on the fringe, threw his putter into the air. "Gee whiz" he shouted. "There's one in every crowd." The putter came down and stuck handle-first in the green.
Then Snead got down into his slalom and punched in the eight-footer, and Kelly missed the shorter putt and the match was over. Snead was delighted. "That was a $25 putt," he chortled, scribbling on the scorecard at his cart. "A $25 putt, Chuckie baby." He twirled the cart handle toward the clubhouse, where the attendant intercepted him outside the pro shop and began unleashing his clubs.
"You playing in the Seniors at Disney World next week, Mr. Snead?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Snead. "I'm going up there to play with those old geezers. They're giving the winner another Continental this year, you know."
All I got from the first golf job I ever held was a free lunch and a spare-time chance to hustle a few guests into taking lessons.
SAM SNEAD, The Education of a Golfer.
I spend as much time now on Snead's activities as I do on Johnny Miller's. That's how popular he is. He could make money all the time if he wanted to.
ED BARNER, PRESIDENT, UNI-MANAGERS INTERNATIONAL.
"I'd rather play with friends like that than play in a tune-ament any time," said Snead, turning the Cadillac out the long drive from Pine Tree and accelerating south toward Boca Raton. The windows were down, the air conditioning off.
Then why go to tournaments at all?
"The competition. Quit competing, and you dry up like a peach seed. But a lot of times I get out there, and I wish I was someplace else. Fishing or hunting. Then I say, 'What the hell, I'm here now, I might as well play.' "