In all his years of going to Augusta National since his US Masters debut in 1980, Mark O'Meara had never ventured there outside of tournament week. Until three weeks ago. That was when his father Bob joined him as he savoured the scene of Mark's remarkable breakthrough to "major" status, 12 months ago.

"It was a dream come true for my father," said the champion, who will start the defence of his title next Thursday. "And even though it was cold and not the best day to play golf, it was really a treat."

Bob O'Meara has been very much a part of his son's golfing career, going back beyond their visit to the Irish Open at Portmarnock in 1987. And it says much about the son that he should continue to want it that way.

Though Mark O'Meara shot a level-par 72, the March 9th date with the dogwoods was more of a sentimental journey than a dress rehearsal. With the course almost to himself, O'Meara needed a three wood to get home in two at the long 13th and 15th holes, which his friend Tiger Woods has reduced to little more than a short-iron approach.

And when he later progressed to the 18th green, he remembered every detail of the 20-foot birdie putt that had secured him the title. He remembered how while studying the break of the green he had said to himself: "This is what it's all about. This is what you play golf for. There doesn't have to be a play-off. I've got it all in my hands. Why not finish it off?"

Though he raised his arms aloft and hugged his caddie in that moment of triumph, O'Meara quickly regained his composure, aware that his playing partner, Fred Couples, still had a short putt to claim a share of second place. "If it had been me, I'd have been jumping and running around," said Couples, the 1992 champion. "But you saw Mark. That's the kind of guy he is."

Indeed his general demeanour since reflects the thoughts of Henry Cotton at Royal St George's, Sandwich in 1934, after he had captured the first of three British Open titles.

"I feel very much like a medical student who has passed an exam," said Cotton. "That person is just as clever one month before the exam as he is immediately afterwards. But once he has passed the exam, he is qualified. I don't think I am a better player today than I was a week before the championship. But I am qualified."

Reflecting on his return to Augusta last month, O'Meara confessed: "I tried to recreate that winning putt, you know. The cup was in almost exactly the same place, so I threw the ball down where it landed last year. And I made the putt again."

Then he went to the champions' locker room, which holds such fascination for Masters aspirants. Greg Norman was certainly aware of its significance as he sat down to change in the general locker room on the Saturday evening of the 1996 Masters, with an apparently unassailable lead of six strokes. "You won't be changing here next year, Mr Norman," the attendant remarked, innocently.

The attendant was wrong, of course. But he was correct in his assessment of the importance which competitors attached to the ascent up the staircase into the holy of holies.

O'Meara knew about such matters when making his Masters debut in 1980. Aged 23 at the time, he was the same age as eventual winner Seve Ballesteros. But as the reigning US Amateur champion who wouldn't be heading for the tour's qualifying school until the autumn of that year, he had no such lofty ambitions.

Indeed he made a decidedly undistinguished debut, carding rounds of 80 and 81 to miss the cut by no fewer than 15 strokes. Still, there were compensations. Like other amateurs before and after him, including Ireland's Garth McGimpsey in 1986 and 1987, O'Meara accepted the offer of clubhouse accommodation in the Crow's Nest, which is close to the champions' locker room.

One night, he tiptoed into the room to which Norman failed to earn access. And he stared at all the famous names. Names like Ben Hogan, who had inspired him with his stories of rebuilding his swing in the quiet isolation of a remote practice ground.

O'Meara also remembered the early mornings when, dressed only in boxer shorts, he stood at the window and looked down in awe at the hordes of spectators jostling for position around the first tee.

The player who returned to those upstairs rooms last month had a thicker waist and thinning, greying hair. But through splendid deeds on golf's most celebrated parkland terrain, he had earned the right to study the great names as an equal. He also discovered he will be sharing the same locker as the 1935 champion Gene Sarazen next week. "I don't have to worry about Gene stealing any of my golf balls," he said, smiling.

Over the last 12 months, O'Meara has travelled 400,000 miles in pursuit of his craft, including a visit to this country for games at Waterville, Ballybunion and The K Club, with Woods, last July. And he has also joined the growing list of tournament professionals to get involved in golf-course design.

His first venture will be in Huntsville, Ontario where construction begins in the autumn on an 850-acre property which is part of a resort complex, two hours' drive from Toronto. "I'm thrilled to be associated with the project, not least because it's a great site in a beautiful location," he said.

Then there has been his progress as an enthusiastic skier. "Hey, I'm not much on bragging about it but I'd say, relative to golf, I am probably a good, solid four-handicap - an honest four," he said. "And I'm not a four who plays like an eight."

Over the winter and early spring, he spent about 25 days skiing and is unconcerned about the broken legs which professional colleague Phil Mickelson sustained in an accident on the slopes. "I can see why it happened to Phil, because I went skiing with him and he's an aggressive individual," he said. "He goes at it like he hits his flop-shots off a tight lie: living on the edge.

"I don't enjoy people telling me to be careful, however well-intentioned it is. That would be a bit like me telling a media guy to be careful with his pen in case he poked himself when he wrote.

"I think I know what I can and can't handle and I'm certainly not worried about burning myself out. Everywhere I go there are distractions; more demands on my time. But when I go on the golf course I'm not thinking `Gosh, if I don't play well, people will be saying the Masters champion should be better than that'."

Winners of major titles automatically fall in line for enticing offers to enhance their coffers. And O'Meara has more to offer than most, as the holder of both the Masters and British Open titles.

He received substantial appearance money for playing in the Desert Classic in Dubai in February and is returning to the European Tour for the Deutsche Bank Open in Heidelberg next month. Then, as a handy little aside, there was his endorsement deal with Bord Failte, which was reported to be worth £50,000.

It's a fine balancing act between capitalising on such opportunities and retaining sufficient time to keep one's golf game up to par. Americans Bill Rogers and Curtis Strange are notable among major winners who discovered to their cost that it is not possible to serve golf and mammon.

O'Meara is unlikely to fall into this trap, though he claims: "I think I will play better if I take more time away from golf. I need time to go skiing and to spend time with my kids before they disappear to college."

Since Augusta last year, admirers have been thanking him for making "us middle-aged guys proud". But in a way, they were also reminding him that in the context of fiercely-competitive younger men like Woods and David Duval, time is not on his side.

His willingness to acknowledge this offers us an insight into the remarkable ease with which he has coped with the pressures of the past year.

As he put it: "I try to keep a handle on things, like going out there first thing on Monday morning and washing my car. That is just me. I am not 27. I am not 29, I am not 30. I'm 42 and if I never win another thing I know I have been blessed."