If I was a professional golfer, I would celebrate every win like Jordan Spieth did Sunday.

In the sudden death round of the Traveler’s Championship, tied with Daniel Berger at 12-under, Spieth hit a lackluster drive that ricocheted off a tree a little shorter than he probably would have liked, then approached with a 5 iron that dropped him into a bunker by the green.

Berger’s approach shot landed on the far end of the green and rolled off. He would need a miracle putt to win it before going for another playoff round.

I wanted to see classic Spieth so badly. I’m talking 2015 Spieth, where every weekend he somehow willed his way to the top of the leaderboard. Crazy birdie putts that edged him above the rest of the field. Chips that landed mere feet (or inches) from the cup.

Pure insanity. That’s what I craved. As if reading my mind and every other mind watching the 23-year-old line up for his shot in the bunker, Spieth wedged it out and sent it rolling into the hole.

That wasn’t even the best part, though. With what I can only imagine was every molecule of adrenaline firing through his body at once, Spieth throws his sand wedge and leaps into the air to bump his caddy.

A few fist pumps later, and the crowd quiets down to let Berger attempt and miss his putt.

Spieth wins. In amazing fashion. Talk about a sight.

That’s how I would celebrate all my big wins (assuming I was even good enough to win anything). Spieth is part of a generation that watched so many athletes from football and baseball take to the air for a celebratory body slam. It’s like the new, more adrenaline-fueled version of the high-five.

Where those other sports have teammates to celebrate with, golf is much more of an independent sport, but there is the caddy off to the side.

Spieth has always made it known how big of a companion his caddy, Michael Greller, is. He even goes so far as to say “we” when talking in post-round interviews referring to himself and Greller, because it’s a team effort. Spieth has his teammate, and he celebrated with him in such an awesome way.

Maybe if I can convince my little brother to caddy for me whenever I squeeze in 18 holes, I could celebrate like Spieth did.