As the private jet flew seamlessly through a Western azure sky toward Denver on a late June afternoon in 1982, the pilot announced to an air traffic controller:

“Alpha Papa One.”

The response was:

“How you doin’, Arnie?”

Arnold Palmer was, and always will be, Alpha Papa – the One and the Only.

The lone passenger lounging in the sleek Citation airplane behind Palmer and his co-pilot guffawed.

Palmer turned and said: “Would you like an Arnold Palmer … or something stronger.”

I couldn’t believe my good fortune. Arnold Palmer was giving me a ride home and offering His drink.

On Sunday evening, sitting alone at home, I wept and thought: The King is dead. Long reigned and lived the King.

During that flight, Palmer talked about his significant connections to, and love for, Colorado.

Arnie had so many remarkable achievements in golf, but the pinnacle occurred in 1960 at Cherry Hills in the greatest U.S. Open finishing day ever. It was a perfect-storm gathering of Ben Hogan near the end of his career, Jack Nicklaus near the beginning of his and Arnold Palmer amid the glory years of his. As the last 18 started (36 holes were played then on Saturday at the Open), Palmer, who had won the Masters earlier in the year, trailed by seven shots and certainly appeared out of the competition.

As he hitched up his pants, swung as hard as he could and started his famous charge, Arnie birdied the first four holes and six of the first seven to frighten the field, which featured Hogan making par on the first 16 holes, and playing partner Nicklaus, briefly grabbing the lead. Palmer prevailed, and flung his visor over the 18th green.

At Cherry Hills on the par-4 first tee is a brick wall with a plaque that states: “Palmer drove this green in final round scoring 65 for a 280 total and victory.”

Everybody familiar with Palmer and golf remembers that historic day in the Denver suburbs.

But there was another time and another place several miles away 16 years later – when I first met Palmer. He was stepping down, in a yellow golf shirt, from another private jet and from the longest, fastest drive for fame in his life.

Few recall that Palmer, with two co-pilots and an observer, set the business jet record for an around-the-world flight.

He had departed from old Stapleton Airport on May 17, 1976, and returned May 20 – 57 hours and 25 minutes later.

A young columnist, I was among the hundreds who were waiting on the tarmac for Arnold. He graciously talked to me.

“Those two moments in Colorado I’ll never forget,” Palmer would say later in conversation. “I don’t think anyone will ever match doing both.”

Also, in 1976, Palmer and his golf design partner, Ed Seay, completed The Broadmoor’s South Course. (Interestingly enough, Palmer’s rival, and eventually one of his closest friends, Nicklaus, would redesign the course 10 years ago, and its name would be changed to the Mountain Course.) Palmer and Seay would be responsible for three other courses in Colorado (Lone Tree, Bear Creek and Eagle Ranch) and do an update at Cherry Hills for another major tournament.

That Cherry Hills comeback was Arnold’s only U.S. Open victory, but he would win four Masters and two British Opens, and he would bring golf and his enormous personality and his aggressive game to the people and to television. He was named – above football, baseball and basketball players – the athlete of the decade for the 1960s in a national Associated Press poll. He has a drink and more than 200 golf courses as part of his legendary legacy.

In early 1982 I wrote a column suggesting that a PGA senior tour event be brought here – primarily because Arnold was in his early 50s and still playing, and wouldn’t it be something if he won again in Colorado? The newspaper I worked for decided to host The Champions of Golf.

Arnie won. How appropriate.

I’ve watched Arnie play 41 tournaments in the U.S. and Great Britain and, on a relaxed weekend at the Senior Skins Game in Maui, where he would win the most bucks. “I still have a little bit of game,” he told me.

In 2004 The Greatest Golfer of All Time (GGOAT) played in his final PGA Tour tournament – the Masters. His partner Seay and I followed Arnie that day at Augusta. On the second hole, a par 5, Arnold shanked his third shot and walked over toward us. We shook hands, and I thanked him for all the great days and incredible shots … and the flight. He and Seay spoke and laughed, and Arnold went back to the job he had done so well over six decades.

“What did he whisper, Ed? Was he talking about his best Masters memory?”

“No,” Seay would say, “He told me we shouldn’t have opened that second bottle of bourbon last night.”

I hope Arnie’s playing a round today in heaven.

Arnold Palmer was Alpha Papa 1. Indeed.