Tom and I have chatted on the phone on occasion over the years, usually in the course of our arranging links golf for him prior to his Open Championship visits. Trips to Ballybunion, Royal Dornoch and several other notable courses were planned in this way and we were debating the merits of Kingsbarns when Tom dropped the bombshell "why don't you come over and make up a four? We're planning to visit after the Open at Royal Lytham." I thought it might be possible to rearrange my schedule - hell, if necessary I would have taken a substantial sabbatical to accept that invitation. But to say I was nervous would be an understatement. I have never played as much golf in my life as I did last summer, practicing assiduously and visiting my local Cornish/Silva course every weekend.

Having eased my jet lag with a couple of days at Prestwick, my 'home' club, I went over to St Andrews the day before the match. Five hours on the practice ground there did little to soothe my nerves, but I can recommend an extended session at the Dunvegan Inn in that regard. Next morning I arrived early at Kingsbarns for our 10:30am tee time. How early? Well, the starter asked me to remove my tent and sleeping bag from the first tee as play on the course would commence at 8:00am, so I repaired to the practice ground to hit balls. In between shots I was glancing anxiously at my watch. Would the great man turn up? He had missed the cut at Lytham - maybe he had gone home early. After a couple of hours on the range, and with an air of resignation, I packed up my clubs and was loading them into the trunk of the car when a station wagon rolled into the parking lot with Tom at the wheel.

Hastily, I began to retie my shoe-laces, while doing my best to affect the nonchalant air of a man who habitually arrives at the course with only minutes to spare. After the introductions we returned to the practice ground, I, for my part, carefully avoiding the small pile of divots which were the evidence of my earlier visit. My confidence soared as I realized that my 3 wood traveled as far as Tom's 8 iron. Then, balls were thrown and partners decided. I think Tom had intended to partner me himself but I must say Bud made every effort to disguise his disappointment when he realized that he had drawn me instead.

Stan and Bud may be in their seventies, but they still power the ball almost 300 yards off the tee, so in return for a few handicap strokes I wisely negotiated to play off the society tees. The other three took on the full challenge from the back - all 7100 yards of it - and all three sent immense drives down the first fairway. Tom's drive finished only 60 yards short of the green (the hole measures 416 yards!), but my 5 wood second set up a four-net-three for the win. Bud visibly relaxed and I resisted the urge to tell him that was premature.

Tom's game is really quite simple: he drives down the middle of the fairway - a very long way - and hits his second shot to within 15 feet of the pin. On the par 3s the pin distance is the same and, on the par 5s, it's a bit closer if he needs three shots to get home. Bud and Stan play a similar game, if not quite as controlled as Tom's, and mine, as you will have guessed, falls into a different category altogether.

I will mention a few highlights of the round. At the long 3rd hole I was faced with a short chip. Should I 'bump and run' or loft a short wedge? I chose the former, which came to rest some 30 feet from the pin. Although I had promised Tom I would re-read his book "Getting Up and Down" I must have missed a few chapters. On the 5th hole Stan Thirsk pointed out that I had out-driven Tom easily, and with a 3 wood at that! Of course, the forward tees had been placed adjacent to the ladies tees so 337 yards from the back had become 241 yards from the front. At the 10th hole Stan again complimented me for out-driving his protége. However, my second to the green put me furthest from the pin by some 40 feet. The ensuing putt gave me a "USA" which was translated for me by Tom as a "U are still away". On the long 12th, perhaps the signature hole at Kingsbarns, my partner found the sea with his drive. Tom remarked that, as the press was on, the pressure was now on me. I aged five years during the walk between the championship tee and the forward tee but managed a drive straight down the middle. This however exhausted my reserves, and caused my snap hook 3 wood second shot into the sea and subsequent loss of the hole.

We managed to recover, though, and pull even by the time we reached the dramatic par 3 15th, some 212 yards across the sea from the back and 151 yards from the front. Bud hit into unplayable rough; Stan hit over the green and was stymied by a bunker; Tom hit his only bad shot of the round into the water. It was again up to me to carry the team. I responded with a smooth 5 wood that had a slight draw which carried perfectly to the only rock that could provide a clever bounce to just short of the green, coming to rest in a deep divot. A career shot that cannot be duplicated. My subsequent chip was almost a T.C. Chen Open double hit, but found the green and the win.

Resting on my laurels from this hole, I managed to lose a ball in the wee burn at the next hole but by the time we reached the 17th it was obvious the word had spread that Tom Watson was on the course. Players began to drift into our fairway requesting autographs and pictures from him. As I addressed my second shot some 190 yards to the green I heard someone call out "Hey, Tom, how about a picture!" There was no point in waiting so I proceeded to hit a fairway metal to the edge of the green. Tom even called this a "golf shot" and with a routine three-putt we managed a half.

Compared to club golf, playing the 18th was like the final round of the Open Championship. Watson-supporters materialized from every nook and cranny. Noted photographer Brian Morgan began snapping away (where did he come from?) and individuals pleaded for photos - not just of Tom, but group shots with them and their friends. As the crowd swarmed off the 18th tee I had some difficulty persuading them to clear a way for my own tee shot, which miraculously found the fairway despite the mélee around the tee. My second into the burn was entirely predictable, but Bud rescued us with a superb 12 foot par-saving putt. We collected £40 each for the win. Modesty prevents me from repeating that line, but, what a moment!

I am now obviously asked what is it like for a mortal golfer to play a round of golf with Tom Watson. Firstly, if one can judge a man by his friends, Bud Williamson and Stan Thirsk are two fine gentlemen who reflect exceedingly well on Tom. Secondly, he has a great sense of humor and that coveted ability to put everyone at ease and make the round enjoyable and relaxing. We talked a lot about golf course design and of which courses we considered to be the great courses in Britain and Ireland. We also shared our admiration for the hidden gems.

But I think what struck me most was his handling of fans who came from all directions and with all sorts of requests. He treated their requests with the utmost respect, and, for example, when asked to pose for a picture, would always ask the name of the lady or gentleman concerned. Finally, as I stood talking with my Scottish partner Jamie Gardner in the parking lot, Tom stopped his car and rolled down the window and said " I bet you're telling him about your golf game". " No" I replied, "I never tell anyone about my golf game". Tom answered "that's because it's so good". Bless you! I will play this game until I drop.