It was Saturday at the 2008 Masters. My nine year old son was on the hallowed grounds of Augusta National for the first time in his young life. We had spent the entire day on the course with his mouth agape at the sight of the floral and the fauna and the greens.

Most of our time was spent behind the 12th tee box waiting for Phil to come around Amen Corner. After he made his pass we walked back to the 18th green to wait for him again.

On the 18th, Phil blocked his approach badly to the left and hit the TV stand. His ball landed over by the ninth green. My son ran over to the ball and stood near Mickelson as he hit a spectacular shot onto the green.

After the round was over they were doing interviews behind the scorer’s tent. We saw Amy, Phil’s wife walking around and then saw Phil emerge for his round of questions. Again my son was desperately trying to get close to Phil.

After the interviews broke Phil walked over and hugged Amy and the two started walking toward the clubhouse, arm in arm. My son, wide-eyed, looked at me and said, “Dad, can I follow Phil?” I said sure and watched from a distance as my son trotted off to walk a few steps with his golfing idol.

After seeing Phil and Amy go behind the ropes my son comes racing back and breathlessly said, “Dad, Dad, he smiled at me and we bumped knuckles!”

That may not seem like much but it meant everything to a young boy, aspiring to be a golfer. And it means even more to this dad, who wants his son to follow in the footsteps of a man like Phil Mickelson.