From the outset he was different, operating in a world of his own with an uncanny knack for machine-like efficiency.
As the master of his craft, he was exceptional, constantly touching the heights with automaton brilliance. Seemingly emotionless, his poker face gave nothing away, whatever was happening, either good or bad. Most times it was good and more often than not it was very good.
You never saw his eyes - they were always shielded by dark glasses - and someone joked he might be an alien. There was a cool, almost cruel, aspect to his demeanour and when he took aim, he couldn't miss.
I called him The Assassin.
He spoke his mind when he had to, even if it meant slamming a national icon. Dismayed by her hypocrisy, he once described Oprah Winfrey as "pitiful". He was exceedingly wealthy, a very eligible bachelor, and he looked and sounded like a young Hollywood star who belonged in a notorious rat pack scenario.
His name was David Duval, and then he went away.
Some years later, in one of those strange surges of memory that you get from who knows where, I wondered what had become of him. I discovered I was not alone. On those websites designed to provide answers, the same questions were being asked ad nauseum: "Whatever happened to David Duval? Where is he?"
Most of the answers were unconvincing, one of them suggesting, "He's somewhere in this world!"
Eight years ago he was the world's No.1 ranked golfer before Tiger Woods, having won 13 titles in three years. Last week he was the world's No.882nd ranked golfer.
And all of this happened while he was in his 30s, an age when many golfers are gaining in success and maturity. From the entire history of sport, it is hard to recall a demise quite so spectacularly frightening.
And still we do not really know. There were injuries, and particularly a chronic back problem, and there was the collapse of his golf swing that killed his confidence, and there were "personal problems" of which little is said.
But somehow they do not fully explain how the world's No.1 golfer could play the next 200 tournaments without once finishing in the top 10 and mostly missing the cut by double-digit figures. They do not solve the mystery off how the 2001 British Open champion could never win a tournament again.
I watched him play for an hour on Monday evening. After a third successive birdie that propelled him to the top of the US Open leaderboard, a young fellow said to me: "So who is this guy?"
And I replied, "It's the David Duval we used to know."
He didn't win it on Monday - the one title he covets more than any other - but he finished joint runner-up.
I just hope he's come back again.