It didn't take long to get back into the swing of covering basketball and hockey after returning to Cleveland from Tucson at the end of March. But, no sooner had I developed a rhythm for covering those two sports, it was May and time to head for Indianapolis.

It was only a six-hour drive from Cleveland to Indy, but it felt like I was traveling back in time. After missing the 1976 Indy 500, I was feeling a little uncertain about being back at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and how I would fit into the AP team.

I needn't have worried. I was greeted happily by the writers and editors from the Indianapolis bureau as well as the other out-of-town writers sent to cover the big event. And I was put to work in a hurry.

And it turns out I picked the perfect year to make my return. The 1977 Indy 500 was one of the most historic in the long  and storied history of the 500-mile race.

The first story I wrote that week was about Janet Guthrie, the first woman to qualify for the 33-car starting field at Indy. Reams of copy had already been written about her that month, but Janet and I seemed to hit it off and she gave me some previously unreported details of her life and racing career that made the story national news.

She gave me her phone number that day and, in the years since, I've used it more than once to get comment from her as more women have followed her to the top level of the sport. She has always been gracious and quotable.

Tom Sneva posted the first 200 mph qualifying lap at Indy that year on the way to winning the pole position. And then, to top off the historic month, A.J. Foyt became the first driver to win four Indy 500s.

Again, I wrote the main story for the afternoon papers. And, this time, there was no writer's block. This story was easy to write.

That year at Indy was also significant as the second time I was offered the auto racing beat - and the second time I turned it down.

Wick Temple, the AP's national sports editor, called me at the speedway on Friday afternoon.

"Listen, I want to make a change," he said. "We're not happy with the way things are going on the racing beat and I'd really like you to take over, starting in January."

I was caught off guard and asked if I could have a little time to think about it. He agreed.

After talking with Judy that night, I called Wick back on Saturday and said, "Nothing has changed since the last time. I still have a wife I adore and two little kids in diapers at home and I don't want to be away from them most of the year. So thanks but no thanks."

He was very gracious about my refusal and I got off the phone hoping I hadn't made a gigantic mistake with my career.

Judy and the kids came to Indy with me and we managed to find a baby sitter after we were invited to a party early in the week in a suite at the old Atkinson Hotel in downtown Indianapolis. Among the other guests that night was Tony Hulman, the owner of the Indy speedway and a really nice man.

Judy decided she wanted to get Mr. Hulman's autograph and found some plastic cups and a Sharpie pen.

Mr. Hulman broke into a huge smile and signed each of the four cups before sharing a hug with Judy. Unfortunately, Mr. Hulman died of heart failure later that year. But we still have those signed cups.

The week in Indy went by in a flash and back to Cleveland we went.

At that time, the election campaign of Dennis Kucinich, who was running for mayor of Cleveland, was just heating up. Although I generally pay little attention to politics, I found Kucinich, who was just 31 years old and had consistently lost every election campaign he had previously run - although by close margins - an interesting figure.

As the mayoral race heated up, AP Cleveland correspondent Neil Bibler made arrangements to spend a day on the campaign trail with Kucinich. Bibler was then called out of town and the duty somehow fell to me.

I found Kucinich to be easy to deal with and far less of a con man than most politicians. He had an entourage, of course, but we somehow managed to spend some time together, just the two of us that day,and I got some great insights into his personality and vision.

A week or so after my story appeared in newspapers around Ohio and the rest of the country, I got a thank you letter from Kucinich. 

Kucinich won the election and became the youngest mayor of a major American city. He was immediately dubbed "The boy mayor of Cleveland."

We'd run into each other at sporting events on occasion and he was always friendly and welcoming. I followed his career closely after that and was pleased when he won election to the U.S. House of Representatives from Ohio in 1996. He was re-elected seven times.

Kucinich wasn't my first experience with a political candidate, though. A year earlier, Jimmy Carter spent a day in Cleveland campaigning for the presidency. I guess I was the only available body and was sent to shadow Carter, along with a host of other journalists from Cleveland and from around the country.

One stop that day was at the Ford plant in Berea, a suburb of Cleveland near Hopkins Municipal Airport. I fully expected we'd be marching through the plant, wearing hard hats and trying to hear what Carter and any of the other officials were saying to one another.

Instead,  we wound up at a baseball complex behind the plant, where Carter picked a team of journalists to play a game of softball against a team from the union at the Ford Plant.

The future president asked if any of us had ever played baseball and I raised my hand. He said, "What's your name? You're my second baseman."

That's how we played a three-inning game with Jimmy Carter pitching and me playing behind him in the infield. I don't remember if we won or lost, but I do remember getting two hits and a couple of high fives from the man who would be the 39th President of the United States.