Seve Ballesteros was the champion of the people and his passing has been mourned worldwide. Golf writer Paul Fraser remembers being in his company.

WHEN news broke in the early hours of Saturday morning that Seve Ballesteros had passed away, the world mourned the loss of a true sporting great. A golfing genius.

Tributes arrived throughout the day from those who he played with, others he inspired to follow his lead and even those non-golf followers who had been won over by his infectious smile and approach to life.

With the exception of watching him pull off amazing shots from the bunkers, the rough and even the car park on television over the years, the North-East of England rarely had an opportunity to see him at first hand.

But the memories of six years ago will have come flooding back for thousands over the past 48 hours. After all, it is not every day one of the greatest golfers of all time graces the region’s soil.

The sight of the legendary Ballesteros driving a buggy up and down the fairways at Wynyard Golf Club, jumping out and enjoying a walk around the course, will never be forgotten by those who caught a glimpse of him.

Whether it was Michael Owen – who was offered some swing advice in the pro-am before the Seve Trophy in 2005 – or the waitress in the clubhouse serving him tea, everyone has their own recollections of his charm.

Meeting your heroes should never be recommended.

When you do, more often than not it can be a bit of a let down because how could they live up to the expectations we have of them as sporting gods? Yet what the past few days have proven is that Ballesteros was different.

Despite his incredible success, he never forgot his roots and he very rarely had an entourage following him around.

He was the perfect example of what happens if sporting heroes connect with their public – their public will worship them just like they do from afar. It is for this reason, along with his precocious golfing talent, that he will always be remembered as the People’s Champion.

Eleven months before the Seve Trophy was played at Wynyard in September 2005, Ballesteros arrived to confirm the Tees Valley course had been chosen to host the team event.

There was a press conference, where lucky businessmen and sponsors who had been invited had the chance to ask questions to their hero.

He posed for photographs, signed autographs and left everyone with a sense they had been touched by greatness. His effects over the past three decades were perfectly summed up that day by renowned commentator Renton Laidlaw.

He said: “When Seve Ballesteros plays well, we are happy, when Seve Ballesteros plays badly, we are sad. That’s the sort of respect the golfing public has for a man we have all taken to our hearts over the years.”

Ballesteros’ generosity that day did not stop there. Away from the glare, he invited me to chat with him in the comfort of his hotel suite at Hardwick Hall Hotel, near Sedgefield, in County Durham.

It is not very often exclusive interviews with former US Masters and Open champions come along – and to be given such access was even more unusual.

As he sat on the edge of his bed, he chatted about his regard for the course, his love for the UK and his memories of his only other visit to the North-East – when he finished 39th at the Compaq European Grand Prix when it was held at Slaley Hall in 1999.

He had also done his research. “In Spain, people could try the tapas, people could try something else if they come and have a look around this area for the first time, maybe the fish and chips. I have and they were lovely,” said Ballesteros.

With the exception of watching him post a birdie at Wynyard’s first hole that day – having taken a free tee shot after striking his first drive left – I never had the privilege of watching him live. Yet, having been mesmerised plenty of times by his game on the television and having heard the stories about him since, we all know the man who won 87 titles, three Opens and two Masters thought there was no such thing as a lost cause.

He had a feisty side after a bad day at the office. That was evident at Wynyard, when he issued a public apology after claiming none of the 20 competitors had class, which caused something of a stir worldwide.

He was also renowned for biting the head off a reporter that threw him a daft question at the wrong time, but he was charming with it. Polite, funny and pleased to stop and chat.

There will be the older commentators that say their finest memory of him is his famous fist celebration after winning the 1984 Open at St Andrews or holing for a birdie after playing from the car park on his way to glory at Royal Lytham five years earlier.

For me, it will always be sitting in his suite at the Hardwick Hall Hotel, where I enjoyed 20 minutes in the company of a sporting legend that made a normal moment feel magically memorable.