Nick Westby: From Australia to the Alps – golden ticket to globe’s greatest occasions

“I want you to take this and...” before he can finish his sentence the mind begins to race and the blood pressure shoots through the roof with excitement.

The boss had just presented me with a golden ticket to the top sporting events of 2012.

At least one for each month of what will be a memorable year of sporting action.

An access-all-areas pass to some of the finest stadiums, most colourful venues and most emotional locker rooms in sport.

Anywhere I want.

It has to be Down Under this month for the Australian Open tennis.

Will Andy Murray make it third time lucky in a final? Can Novak Djokovic repeat the feat of the last year and is Roger Federer still a force to be reckoned with?

More pertinently, how much sun tan lotion should I pack for the Australian summer?

Because I do not want to turn up to the bitingly-cold Mid West of the United States for Super Bowl XLVI looking like a blotchy tomato.

They say tomato, but who cares on February 5 as the best two teams in the NFL go head-to-head in the most-watched sporting event in America.

The Green Bay Packers will likely be there as they chase a second successive title and the only other certainty from an unpredictable NFL season is that the host city of Indianapolis will not be represented.

For the Colts, in American parlance, have ‘stunk’ and the consolation is that they ‘Suck for Luck’, an ongoing media-driven campaign that will result in Indianapolis earning the first round pick in April’s draft that should see them select Andrew Luck, a young quarterback touted as the next great thing in the sport.

Keeping the winter coat on, it is back to good ol’ Blighty in March for the Cheltenham Festival.

Long Run versus Kauto Star in the Gold Cup. Mouth-watering stuff.

Jaw-dropping is next on the agenda as it is back on a transatlantic flight to Atlanta for Augusta in April.

Golf’s Masters tournament has to be the most aesthetically-pleasing of sporting spectacles.

The beguiling green fairways, the blooming azaleas, the crunching of pine needles as Phil Mickelson heads into the trees to search for another lost ball around Amen Corner.

Write the three-time winner off at your peril. But what about the supporting cast? Will Luke Donald or Lee Westwood finally deliver on their major promise? Will Yorkshireman Simon Dyson prove he can mix it with the elite?

And will this be the tournament when Tiger Woods finally puts the turmoil of the last two years behind him?

May is for Munich – the Champions League final at the Allianz Arena.

Bayern v Barca for me. The dexterity of Ribery, the ticky-tacky of Iniesta, Xavi and Fabregas, the bewitching footwork of Messi and the predatory instincts of Mario Gomes.

I still have a football shirt on my back as I head to Poland and the Ukraine in June for the European Championships.

A three-week festival of football culminating in the final in Kiev on July 1. Can anyone stop Spain? Are Germany the continent’s emerging force? Will England end 46 years of hurt?

Probably not.

July is a busy month in its own right with the culmination of Wimbledon, the British Grand Prix and the Open Championship but the hottest ticket in town has to be a seat in London’s Olympic Stadium and the opening ceremony of the 30th Summer Olympiad.

Nine years in the making, the country’s staging of the sporting extravaganza will define an era and echo down the generations, so expect the opening ceremony to reflect that promise.

Nine days later and the most storied of all sporting events will take place in London – the men’s Olympic 100m final.

The audible intake of breath as the eight men get down on the blocks, from not only the 80,000 lucky enough to be in the stadium but from the millions watching around the world, is enough to send shivers of anticipation tingling up the spine.

Does anyone draw breath again until the tape is breasted? I won’t be, Usain Bolt won’t be, unless like in Beijing he has the race won at 75 metres and can showboat over the line.

Either side of the Olympic 100m final, it is back up to good old Yorkshire for the second Test match between England and South Afrcia at Headingey Carnegie.

Then later in August, the pivotal third Test between the two best Test nations in the world at the most famous cricketing venue on the planet, Lord’s.

After the grandeur of the Olympics and a summer at home it is time to get our breath back before a flight to Chicago in September for the Ryder Cup.

The golden ticket is getting crumpled in my back pocket but security lets me through and the wonderment of the Windy City unravels before me.

The Windy City, Willis Tower, the John Hancock Building and Medinah Country Club, the scene of golf’s ultimate team game. The fiery passion of Jose Maria Olazabal against the measured tactician Davis Love III.

Two greats of the game who will be represented by their 12 warriors in three days of the most exacting and nerve-jangling of sporting arenas.

Back home I head in October – the Samuel Ryder trophy in my overhead compartment – to Manchester and Super League’s Grand Final.

Leeds Rhinos could finish eighth and still reach Old Trafford, such is their propensity to move through the gears when the chips are down.

Warrington, Wigan, St Helens, Huddersfield, Hull FC – can anyone stop them?

November and the Brazilian Grand Prix is my first international race of the season, but the last for Formula 1 in 2012.

Six world champions on the grid at the iconic Interlagos, but will anyone match Red Bull for pace? Can Lewis Hamilton channel his aggression in the right way? Will Jenson Button continue to punch above his weight?

From the samba and sunshine of Sao Paulo to the bitter cold and dense atmosphere of the French Alps and the stunningly beautiful Val d’Isere for the latest round of skiing’s World Cup in December.

The awkward Frenchman on the gate allows me through but only after my ticket – which was once golden but now resembles an overused handkerchief – is approved by the authorities after a few calls have been bounced back and forth between the Alps and Yorkshire Post towers.

Evenutally, the swoosh of the skis, the clanging of the cow bells and the screeches of the fans who line the course make it all worthwhile, and offer a perfect backdrop on which to reflect on a year of countless highs in the wonderful world of sport.

It is then that the smashing of the sports editor’s fist on the desk snaps me out of my daydream.

“I want you to take this and... get me a bar of chocolate,” he says, the glint of gold in his hand not a priceless ticket, but a pound coin. The fact that his other hand points to the tin of tea bags sat almost apologetically at the edge of the desk ends any hope that this dream could become a reality.

Still, what a dream...