The first edition of the Rockford morning paper was distributed mostly in southern Wisconsin and I quickly became "The Wisconsin Guy" on the staff.

Growing up in Madison and attending the University of Wisconsin gave me ``local knowledge,'' as far as my sports editor, Rick Talley, was concerned.

The first college football game that I covered in the fall of 1967 was in Beloit, WI, just 18 miles north of Rockford. Beloit College beat St. Olaf 14-13 in a defensive struggle that featured two goal-line stands. But I wasn't really concerned with the action on the field - although I took copious notes and kept a play-by-play.

It was a beautiful fall day, I was sitting in the press box and somebody was paying me to be there. That was the first of many college football games I covered, but it was a glorious moment in my budding career and I almost couldn't believe my good fortune.

The next week was even more exciting. I was being sent to Madison to cover my Badgers playing against Michigan's powerful Wolverines. Never mind that the Wisconsin football team was awful - on the way to a winless season, with one tie, and in the midst of a 23-game winless streak. I was pumped to go "home," and be seen in my new role.

I had to work the desk on Friday night, so I didn't leave for Madison until around 10 a.m. on Saturday. When I arrived at Camp Randall Stadium around 11 o'clock, I reached into my briefcase for my parking pass. That's when it hit me: In the excitement of the day, I had left the envelope with my parking pass and game credential on the kitchen table in my apartment in Rockford.

I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and nearly burst into tears. What to do?

Fortunately, that "local knowledge'' came into play. I had spent countless hours roaming the halls of Camp Randall's athletics building and being a pest to Jim Mott, UW's longtime sports information director, during my time as a football manager.

I parked my car on the street, a few blocks from the stadium - right where dad always parked when we went to the games. Then I made my way to Mott's office. He appeared happy to see me, standing to shake my hand.

``Hey, the new Rockford guy. You just saying hi?'' he asked. I was so embarrassed, I had trouble speaking. But I eventually got it out that I had somehow managed to forget my credentials at home.

``So what do you want me to do about it?'' Mott asked with a grimace. My heart sank.

Then he smiled puckishly and said, ``I think we can find a duplicate around here somewhere. You're not the first guy to forget a credential. But don't let it happen again.''

The Badgers lost to Michigan that day, but I got to sit in the press box and visit the dressing rooms as a professional writer. It was all very gratifying. And, in a sports writing career that went on for more than 40 years, I never again showed up at an event without my credentials.

My next trip to Madison for an assignment didn't come until the spring. I was sent to cover the state high school basketball tournament, an event I attended numerous times as a spectator over the years.

It was held in the cavernous and drafty UW Fieldhouse, adjacent to the football stadium and only blocks from my high school, Madison West. The last time I had been in the fieldhouse was in January 1967 when I took part in my UW graduation ceremony.

My time in Madison was recent enough that I still knew a lot about the schools that were playing in the tournament _ some of their top players, team records and history. And I got to spend five days at home, seeing Judy, my parents and my brothers and sisters.

Beloit made it to the tournament, so I even had a "local" team to write about. It wasn't quite a Cinderella story since unbeaten Manitowoc beat Beloit in the championship game, but it was definitely a worthwhile and fun few days.

I turned in my expense account on my first day back at work in Rockford. It included a couple of 50-cent tolls from the short roundtrip on Interstate 90, one tank of gas (probably about $4) and another $5 or so for hot dogs and peanuts at the games.

The next evening, as I arrived for work, Talley called me into his office. He literally threw my expense report at me across his desk and said, "This is unacceptable. If I send somebody else to Madison next year and they turn in an actual expense report, the bean counters will go crazy.

"I want you to redo this with four nights of hotel, three meals a day, laundry, tips and whatever else you can think of that you might have spent."

"But what about receipts?" I asked. "You let me handle that," Rick replied.

I wound up turning in an expense report for $235 dollars. My salary at that time was $140 a week. Talk about found money.

In between those Madison visits, I got an even more intriguing Wisconsin assignment - the Green Bay Packers hosting the Cleveland Browns at Milwaukee County Stadium in November of 1967.

I grew up a Packer fan, but I had never attended a game in Green Bay or in Milwaukee, where they played three or four "home" games a year in those days.

The Packers, under the direction of Vince Lombardi, in his last season as the team's coach, were on their way to another Super Bowl win _their third straight NFL championship _ and they easily handled a good Browns team that day, winning 55-7.

As I sat in the Mezzanine Level press box, I was struck by the fact that I was not only covering the team I grew up following from the best seat in the house, but I was being paid time and a half because it was Sunday and that was considered a holiday.

Since the Star didn't publish on Monday mornings, I had all the time in the world to get material for Monday afternoon's paper.

I went to the Browns dressing room and got a quick quote from the coach, Blanton Collier. Then I walked over to the Packers dressing room, where I got into a conversation with an old UW friend, center Ken Bowman.

By the time I headed for the coaches' dressing room to try to get a quote from Coach Lombardi, the whole place was clearing out and the door was closed.

I knocked and, after a short pause, I heard a deep gravelly voice say, "Yes?"

I opened the door and there was Coach Lombardi, half dressed, buttoning his shirt.

It was an awkward moment and I finally said, ``Coach, I'm really sorry to be so late coming in here, but I would appreciate it if you would let me ask you a question or two about the game.''

``Where were you when everybody else was in here?'' he grumbled, glaring at me. ``Well, it's my first football game here and it took me a while to figure out where everything was. And then I got into a conversation with Ken Bowman. We were at Wisconsin together.''

Coach Lombardi shrugged and smiled, ``What do you want to know?''

I asked a couple of obvious questions about the game and, after giving me typical answers, Coach Lombardi said, ``Where did you say you work?''

I told him the Rockford newspapers and that I had only been there a few months. By this time, he was dressed and ready to leave. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card and a pen. He wrote something on the card and handed it to me.

``If you ever need to talk to me, call this number and tell my secretary I said to put you through,'' Coach Lombardi said as he walked away.

I put that card in my wallet as a cherished souvenir.

A few weeks later, Lombardi announced he was stepping down as the Packers coach to become the full time general manager. I was in the office in Rockford and thought about that card he had given me.

I fished it out and nervously called the number. ``Coach Lombardi's office,'' said the female voice on the other end. I said, ``Hi, my name is Mike Harris and I work for the Rockford newspapers. Coach Lombardi gave me this number and said to tell you to put me right through to him when I call.''

I honestly expected her to hang up on me. Instead, she said, "Hang on."

The next voice I heard was Coach Lombardi's.

"Hi young man. What can I do for you?"

I got some quotes about his reasons for deciding to step down as coach. We talked about his health and time with his family. Then I thanked him for talking with me and, a bit breathlessly, hung up.

When I turned in the story, the desk supervisor asked me, "Are you sure it was really Vince Lombardi you were talking to?"

I laughed and said, "Oh yeah, it was definitely the coach.''

My quotes got picked up by the wire services and that was the first big scoop of my career.