Trepidation often accompanies meeting a childhood idol. As in: What if they don't fit the profile you've hatched in your noggin?

Example: I met Reggie Jackson once at Dodd Stadium. How to put this delicately: If Reggie and I decided to play horse, I'd have been the front end and Reggie would have been himself.

Happily, though, Tommy Heinsohn restored my faith. I met the once and future king of Celticdom 10 years ago at Mohegan Sun. Tommy and the great Mike Gorman had the broadcast of the Connecticut Sun game that night. Tommy Heinsohn was as approachable, welcoming and gregarious as his persona always suggested.

Tommy, as you probably know by now, died Tuesday at 86. Another piece of our childhood is gone.

Quick background: My first foray with sportswriting came in 1974. I was 6 and in first grade. I wrote about Dave Cowens and Tom Heinsohn. (My mother still has it somewhere). There was a period of my youth that I insisted I was left-handed because I loved Cowens. There was another when I opted for plaid clothes because of Tommy's sport coats.

Anyhoo, I walked into the media dining room that night at Mohegan Sun. Gorman introduced me to his partner. Some of you know I've been afflicted with a stutter that comes and goes. Upon meeting Tommy Heinsohn, I sounded like the unfortunate offspring of Mel Tillis and Porky Pig.

But we talked and talked anyway. He was insightful and hilarious. We talked about the old days, Havlicek and Cowens, the triple-overtime game with Garfield Heard in 1976 and how much he hates referees. Ironically, one of the refs that night was Tom Mauer, whose brother, Ken, is an NBA referee. Earlier that season, an exasperated Heinsohn said during a Celtics game, "Kenny Mauer better go home to his wife ... because nobody here loves him."

That one was right up there with, "He's a young referee and I hope he doesn't get much older."

Kara Lawson, a Sun guard at the time, thought about visiting Heinsohn while the Sun were in the layup line before the game. All Lawson could think about was "Waltah."

"I was going to tell him that if he needed somebody to be 'Waltah' in this game, I'd volunteer," Lawson said.

"Waltah," otherwise known as Walter McCarty, became part of Celtics lore and legend thanks to Heinsohn. During most broadcasts, Heinsohn would bellow "I ... love ... Waltah!" louder than a lawn mower. Enough so that they even made "I love Waltah" T-shirts in Boston.

Tommy said there would be no "Tommy Points" during the night's game. There would be "Sun Spots" instead, he said, drawing a giggle from anyone listening.

It was a small step for women's basketball's growth that night, too. A Hall of Famer who knew his stuff and wanted to be there.

"Having Tom here shows how far we've come as a league when people who have made their name in other areas come here because they like it," said Mike Thibault, who was coaching the Sun at the time. "He likes the passion that girls and women bring. He knew our players."

Tommy said: "Over the years, I've done a lot of camps and clinics with girls and women. I've found them to be much more cerebral than the boys. We know the difference between the WNBA and the NBA is quickness and athleticism. But women, out of necessity, understand the importance of playing a more cerebral game. They adapt to the geometry of the game easier."

Pretty neat having Tommy and geometry under the same roof.

People who knew him better could probably tell you better stories. But he'll never know what it meant to learn the guy you wanted to be as a kid — I still want to be a basketball coach to this day — is as good of a guy as you hoped.

I'll leave you with this Tommy quote that they dug up on Twitter the other day:

"Look, all I know is, Bill Russell won two NCAA Championships, 50-some college games in a row, the ('56) Olympics, then he came to Boston and won 11 championships in 13 years," Tommy said, "and they named a bleeping tunnel after Ted Williams."

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.