As I walked into the sports department for my first day as an actual professional sports writer, Rick Talley, the paper's sports editor and columnist, called me into his office.

"I'm glad you're here,'' Rick said. "We've been a man short for a while and, on an eight-man staff with two newspapers to fill, that can be really tough. I know you don't have a lot of experience, but we're going to drop you into the mix as quickly as we can. We'll keep you busy.''

Those words were music to my ears. I could hardly wait to get started.

And then I sat and answered the phone for two days.

Of course, Rick and the rest of the staff were simply trying to orient me to the heavy demands of a small daily sports department by watching and listening. But I was champing at the bit to do something - anything - besides answer phones and watch everyone else work.

Finally, on the third day, assistant sports editor Phil Pash - who frankly scared the hell out of me - walked up and said, "Harris, we're putting you to work. There's a high school football game tonight at Boylen. Go cover it. When it's over, come back here to write and, remember, we need two stories - one for the Star and one for the Register-Republic. So you'd better have quotes and stats.''

I didn't even know where Boylen High School was. And I sure didn't know how to cover the game. I had watched hundreds of games, but taking notes was new to me. And it was raining. I found the stadium and went to the old wooden press box and looked around for someone to guide me. Nobody seemed very welcoming.

I asked the public address announcer if we would be getting statistics during or after the game and I got a blank stare and a shrug. Finally, someone said, "We always count on you guys to keep the stats.''

The game began and I tried to keep track of yardage and passing attempts by using the players' numbers. I certainly didn't know their names and I couldn't find a roster. But, first things first.

The field was muddy and, soon, the numbers on the jerseys were disappearing. To make matters worse, it began to get foggy and it was hard to see the other side of the field.

At the half, I toted up my numbers and finally found the Boylen athletic director, who gave me rosters from both teams. He also gave me a major tip: cover the game from the sidelines so you can actually see what's going on. He even gave me a piece of plastic to cover my soggy notebook.

I talked to both coaches after the game and got some so-so quotes that would be just enough.

Somehow, I got through it and got back to the newspaper office to write my story. The game wasn't very memorable, but seeing that byline in the paper the next morning was a real thrill. And I never got any complaints about the statistics I used, even if they were pretty much guesswork.

The next high school game I covered, I was prepared with a clipboard, paper, a plastic bag to cover it with in case of inclement weather and an assortent of pens and pencils and markers. From then on, I walked the sideline and kept what I believe to be very accurate statistics.

The only other time I covered a high school game from the press box was the first game I went to after getting married the next year. Judy went with me but she wasn't allowed in the press box. However, it was a mild day and the windows were open, so Judy sat in the last row of the grandstand and we newlyweds held hands through the open window when I wasn't taking notes.

She decided after that it was probably better for me to concentrate on my work and stayed home.

Two parts of the newspaper business that I had never really thought about or prepared for were headline writing and laying out the paper, both of which proved very stressful.

I've always prided myself on my vocabulary and I won spelling bees when I was young. But writing headlines never was my forte. Some people are naturals at it and can come up with witty or newsy headlines that fit perfectly in the space allotted.

My headlines were often dull and too long or too short. It just wasn't my thing, and Phil Pash never let me forget it.

"Geez! How tough is it to write a simple f...ing headline?" he would yell at me.

I was particularly anxious the first time I was told to do the page layout. Somehow, in all my Journalism for Majors classes at Wisconsin, I never took one on setting up the pages.

Finally, the dreaded day came - a Friday night with lots of high school football and previews of college games in our area.

I got the bright idea to look at the previous Friday's pages and try to copy the layout. It worked to a degree - until I realized at around midnight that I had no room for an important late game from the west coast, which I had forgotten about.

I scrambled to make it work and, somehow, I did. It was no prize winning effort, but I didn't get yelled at and I learned a valuable lesson: make notes on what you have to get into the paper that night.

Those were also the days of hot type, meaning I had to go down to the print shop a couple of times during the evening to check the layout, reading the type upside down and backwards. It was an acquired skill that I was never very good at. But the paper had some great people working in the back shop who walked me through the process without making me feel stupid.

Those first few weeks on the sports desk were like taking a graduate course. It was a lot of work, a lot of stress and anything less than an A was not acceptable.

The learning curve was precipitous but, even with the stress, I couldn't wait for the next lesson.

As scared as I was of Phil Pash, I learned to relish his criticism and seek out his tips. I learned more about the art of being a sports writer and editor in the year working under him in Rockford than I did in the rest of my career.

That was an exciting time and there was so much more to come.