I had the good fortune during my career to meet and sometimes even get to know sports stars and other celebrities. Sometimes, the interactions were totally unexpected.

While living in Wake Forest, NC, I was invited on a rare off weekend to enjoy a media day outing at Tanglewood Golf Club near Greensboro. The event was being sponsored by Winston and the PR man overseeing the event was old friend Earl Fannin.

I wasn't sure if I would even write a story about the day. It was more of a fun time, a chance to see some of the top golfers in the world up close and personal.

The biggest name on hand that day was Lee Trevino, a future Hall of Famer, who was far more colorful than most of his competitors. Lee chain-smoked and took almost no time over the ball before making a short, quick swing that was amazingly effective.

He played an 18-hole exhibition that day and I trailed along, enjoying the banter between Lee and his longtime caddie, Herman, a mountain of a man who gave as good as he got from his boss and did it with a straight face.

As we walked along, I managed to get in a few words with Lee between the greens and the next tee. At one point, I congratulated him after he had made a sweet 18-foot putt and he asked if my game was any good. I said, "I'm a duffer, but I can putt."

On the next hole, Lee was lining up a putt of about 20 feet. He suddenly stood up, looked at me and said, "You want to make this one for me?"

I'm sure I turned white as a sheet and said, "No thanks!" But Lee insisted and the small crowd on hand went along with it, cheering me on.

He handed me the putter and said, "It looks like it breaks right and then left. But I'll let you read it yourself."

Lee then started taking pretend bets from the crowd, assuring everyone I was a great putter and was going to make this snake.

My hands were shaking as I stood over the putt and I couldn't get my eyes to focus as I tried to read the green. It just looked like a long way to a very, very small hole.

I took a big deep breath, pulled the putter back slowly and tried to make a smooth stroke and send the ball somewhere near the hole and not embarrass myself completely.

Despite my efforts to stay smooth, the ball jumped off the club head and started skittering to the right. Then it smoothed out and made a slight turn to the left. As I held my breath and watched unbelieving, the ball made another quick turn to the right and rolled straight into the hole.

It was the luckiest putt I ever made.

The crowd gasped and began yelling and Trevino ran up and shook my hand and said, "Damn, boy. You really can putt."

I handed him the putter from my shaky hand and smiled. What could I say?

He finished the round and I thanked him for the fun time. As he walked toward the clubhouse, Lee looked over his shoulder and said, "You can putt with me any time, kid."

There was another pretty good golf story that took place when we lived in Westfield, NJ. In 1993, the U.S. Open was played at Baltusrol Golf Club in nearby Springfield on the week of my 50th birthday.

I had been talking about the tournament for a while, bemoaning the fact that I had a race that weekend and would not be able to attend an event I'd love to see and that was practically in my backyard. Judy surprised me with tickets for the Wednesday practice.

It was the first golf tournament I had been to since my days in Cleveland, covering the Firestone Tournament and several other major golf events.

After getting to the course, we sat down in the bleachers alongside the practice range and watched several of the big names warming up. It was a beautiful day and I was just enjoying being there and seeing some of my favorite golfers work on their swings.

The bleachers were pretty full after a while and there was suddenly a stir as Jack Nicklaus, one of the all-time greats and a tournament favorite, walked onto the range. He set up directly in front of us _ we were sitting in the front row _ and began to warm up.

After hitting some 9-irons and some lasers with what I think was a 7-iron, he stopped to wipe his face with a towel. As he handed it back to his caddie, Nicklaus glanced toward the bleachers and we made eye contact.

He got a big smile on his face, pointed toward me and said, "AP?"

I was stunned, but I smiled back and waved.

He gestured for me to come over to the fence, which I quickly did. We shook hands as he leaned against the fence and asked if I was covering the tournament.

I told him that I was just there with my wife celebrating my 50th birthday and that I was still working for AP but covering auto racing full-time these days.

"Well, it's really good to see you," he said, waving at Judy. "Say hello to my friend Mario when you see him."

He waved again and went back to work and I walked back to the bleachers, where a whole bunch of people were looking at me like, "Who the hell is that guy and how does he know Jack Nicklaus."

For some reason, I had been a little down about my 50th birthday. But, after that day at Baltusrol, I felt just fine.

There are certain major sporting events that I always dreamed of either covering or at least attending. The Monaco Formula One race was one. Others included the Kentucky Derby and, of course, The Masters golf tournament.

My dad, who was not a very good golfer, introduced me to the sport when I was seven years old. I took to it and, by the time I was in high school, I was a decent player. Then life intervened - college, the army, full-time journalism and marriage. Golf became a sometime thing and my skills eroded. I became a 20 handicap, which I still am to this day. I still love playing, though.

During my years at AP, I was always working in the office or covering an event on the week of the Masters. But, once I retired, I decided to try to find tickets to the tournament. I was willing to pay, but not $1,000 a ticket. Too rich for my blood.

But, in reading about the Masters on the internet, I found Augusta National had an annual ticket lottery, giving people a chance to possibly buy tickets to the event at face value. I entered and, voila, I won the chance to buy two tickets to the Wednesday practice day. My brother-in-law, Stuart, a good golfer and a golf fan, was as excited as I was to use the tickets.

We found a room at a dumpy motel near the golf course - very overpriced. We met at the Atlanta airport _ I flew in from MA and he from FLA _ and we rented a car and headed for Augusta.

We  went out for dinner that night to a very nice restaurant in the downtown area and overheard the people at the table next to ours talking about the tournament. They were finished eating, so I walked over and started up a conversation, telling them Stu and I were newbies and asking for advice. They were regular Masters patrons and gave us some wonderful tips about parking, buying from concessions and how to watch the golf. We took the advice to heart and it all worked.

Wednesday was a beautiful day. Parking is free and there is loads of it if you get there early. We were there when the gates opened at 7 a.m. I lost my little pocket knife at the gate because I was too excited about getting in to go back to the car to drop it off when I found out I couldn't bring it in with me. Once inside, we went immediately to the concessions tent and bought our souvenirs. Then we checked the bag until the end of the day. All of that was from the tips the night before.

The golf course is even more beautiful in person than on TV, with the Azaleas in full bloom and the grass an emerald green. The only discernible difference between TV and reality is that the course is much hillier than it appears on the tube. We got a real workout that day.

We spent the day walking the course - from the first tee to the 18th green, stopping at numerous places along the way to watch golf and talk to the patrons, who were happy to chat. It was a wonderful day and we were determined to come back again.

When I got home, I emailed or called everyone in my family and most of my friends, asking them to enter the lottery for the next year. Only one entry per household is allowed. Amazingly, my brother Rich won the right to buy tickets, again for the Wednesday practice. And, again, Stu and I met up and went. This time, we found a nicer motel an hour away in SC.

Again, it was a beautiful day and we enjoyed the experience tremendously. Everyone was great, smiling and pleasant, even the security people. The food is cheap and good. And the logistics of getting around the course and seeing the scoreboards is excellent. On this day, we followed Tiger Woods and Freddie Couples and watched them bombing drives and hitting multiple balls from different spots in the traps. It was fun and enlightening.

On the way back to the Atlanta airport, Stu and I tried to come up with a strategy for finding tickets to the actual tournament. But we were coming up empty.

The next month I was in Indy for the 500. I was retired from AP now, but writing for Racintoday.com and it was my 47th and last Indy. I was invited to the annual Team Penske dinner. I've known Roger Penske since 1970, my first year at Indy and his second.

I had heard Roger had a hole-in-one earlier that year at Augusta, where he is a member, and I went up to say hi and congratulate him on the accomplishment. He almost blushed, which surprised me. Roger isn't very emotional.

I told him about our visits to Augusta and said, "I would love to go to the tournament some time, but the tickets are impossible to get." He smiled and said, "No, they're not."

"For you, they aren't," I replied.

He said, "If you want to go, you can use a couple of my tickets. I get four a year as a member, as long as I remember to pay my dues."

I said, "You want me to start calling every day and reminding you to pay them?" He smiled and said, "No, I think I can remember."

That year (2015), Stu and I were in Augusta for all four days of the tournament. Again, we stayed an hour away in South Carolina, but the drive was worth it.

We watched Jordan Spieth get his win. We followed him from the first tee to the 18th tee on the final day, although we couldn't get close to the 18th green and had to watch the finish on one of the outside TV's. Still, it was an amazing experience and everything I hoped it would be. So, thanks to RP for helping me fulfill one of my dreams.

Maybe one of these years I'll hit the Derby or fly over to Monaco.