During his heyday as one of the pro golf tour's authentic superstars, Snead earned a reputation for tightfistedness. Nor does he give away much in this cheap-jack memoir, which adds virtually nothing of substantive interest to the public record. The episodic, first-person narrative takes Snead (now 74) from barefoot boyhood in Virginia's hill country, where he taught himself to play golf with homemade clubs and balls on a makeshift farmyard course, to affluent eminence as an older statesman of a sport that his accomplishments helped popularize. Along the way, there are sketchy replays of a handful of the 165 tournaments won during a career that has spanned six decades and is still going on the senior circuits. Included as well are brief tips of the baldish author's trademark straw hat to celebrated playing partners--the Duke of Windsor, Ike, Jackie Gleason, archrival Ben Hogan, et al. Just what has kept the smooth-swinging Snead at the top of a demanding game for all these years remains something of a mystery, however, and even receptive fans will have trouble buying the lame explanations as to why he's not really disappointed by his repeated failures to win the US open. As a practical matter, Snead has taken the easy way out, putting his slyboots persona at stage center in a performance that's subpar even by the modest standards of the sports-bio genre.