I've thought of three special memories before narrowing it down to one. First to come to mind is the celebrations at Muirfield Village in 1987 when Europe won the Ryder Cup for the first time in America. I treasure the photographs I have of that occasion, of Tony Jacklin, my great friend Sam Torrance and myself, with the famous trophy.

Then I thought of seeing Tiger Woods winning at Augusta last year. Instinctively, one felt that it was the start of something special in the history of the major championships.

But the one that stands out most occurred during the Alfred Dunhill Cup in 1994, when the BBC had asked me to do a long interview for a Christmas special with Nick Price, who had won the British Open at Turnberry that summer. We did it upstairs in the New Club, which overlooks 18th green and has the famous clubhouse as a majestic backdrop.

On a beautiful autumn evening, the Old Course was bathed in golden light as the sun was going down. Just the perfect setting in which to talk golf.

It was complemented beautifully by the presence of a player whom I would rate as the nicest man in the game. And he happened to be in superb form. We sat for 40 minutes or so, talking through the various aspects of his Open victory that year, when he overtook Jesper Parnevik over the last two holes.

Nick remembered every shot, every emotion and every little detail. And to have a thorough gentleman describe the greatest moment of his career made it a special experience, the most fascinating golfing conversation I've ever had. Now, nearly four years on, it is particularly poignant to think of the way he talked about his caddie, Squeeky, who, sadly, is no longer with us. They were closer than any of us could imagine. In their separate ways, they became part of a great moment for John Daly when Squeeky caddied for him in his 1991 USPGA Championship win, after Nick withdrew to be with his wife at the arrival of their first baby.

But they were together again for the same event a year later, when Nick triumphed and Squeeky completed a double that will probably never be repeated. And one could sense the remarkable empathy he felt with the caddie, when he described the now famous 50-foot eagle putt on the long 17th at Turnberry.

Both of them knew how important that putt was in terms of the destination of the championship, and they threw their arms around each other.

Some time later, I did another interview with Nick and I inquired about Squeeky, who was then quite ill with leukaemia. And I remember being very touched by his saying to me: "Thank you for asking that. He's the most important man in my thoughts right now and it's difficult to concentrate on my golf."

Not surprising, the St Andrews chat made a very good programme. I still have a tape of it at home and I gave one to Nick, which I'm pleased to say he seemed to like very much. In truth, I played very little part in the whole exercise; it was Nick's programme. The setting, the man and his memories, became an irresistible combination.

Arising out of it all, I like to think that a sort of bond has developed between Nick and me. In the work I do, there are some players one develops an extra special friendship with. I would be drawn, naturally, more towards the Scots lads like Sam.

But Nick Price stands apart. From my experience, he would have been successful, whatever he had done, mainly because of the gift he has for treating people correctly. This becomes all the more remarkable when one considers him as a wealthy, successful sportsman.

Even after he has had a bad experience, like the crushing 81 in the third round of this year's Open, he is always amenable to being interviewed. There is invariably a ready smile and an appreciation you're simply trying to do your job.

For me, he will always be a very special player, not least because of the memorable chat we had, when an October sun was setting over the Old Course.