As spring training goes on and the new season of baseball approaches, I generally start to reminisce about my days covering the game that I have loved since I was about five years old.

I've already written what I consider the best stories I have about my experiences in and around the game as a sports writer. But, as I watched a Red Sox preseason game on TV over the weekend, a few more interesting (I hope) tales popped into my head.

During my time covering the Cleveland Indians in the late 1970's, I had the opportunity to get to know some of the players on a personal basis. The one I got closest to for a while was a young right-handed pitcher named Len Barker.

He later gained fame by throwing a perfect game in 1981, but I was gone from Cleveland by that time. And his career never quite lived up to his potential.

When Len was traded, along with Bobby Bonds, to the Indians by the Texas Rangers in the fall of 1978, he was considered a future star. I got to know him while taking part in the Indians' preseason public relations tour and we hit it off, despite a 12-year age difference.

I invited Len and his new wife to have dinner with us and the four of us enjoyed a great evening. When it came time to pay the bill, Len said, "I got the big signing bonus. Let me take care of it."

About a week later, Len called to see if we wanted to join he and his wife for another meal, this one at a very fancy and pricey downtown restaurant. I said we'd go, but only if he let me pay our share.

It was a fantastic dinner, but our part of the tab was half a week's salary for me. Add to that the cost of the baby sitter and it was a really expensive evening. Turns out he had very expensive taste and the pocket book to enjoy it.

We went out with the couple several more times until I realized we were just living very different lifestyles. At that point, I told Len that Judy and I needed to rein in our spending and we wouldn't be joining them for dinner any more.

He said he understood, but things were considerably cooler between us at spring training and during the regular season. Then I left for racing and never saw Len again.

In another baseball story, I was scheduled to go to the Canadian Grand Prix in Montreal in late September of 1981. I got a call the week before from one of the bosses, who said, "As long as you're going to be in Montreal anyway, how about covering the Expos' final home series. They're playing the Mets and they have a small lead in the division over the Cardinals and it would be good to have a staffer there."

We usually got coverage of Expos home games from Canadian Press since the AP had no sports staffers in Canada. It wasn't very in-depth.

I had to cover practice and qualifying on Friday and Saturday afternoon at the track on Ile du Notre Dame, just outside of downtown Montreal. But I got done each day in plenty of time to make it to the baseball games. And it was an easy subway ride from my hotel to the old, dilapidated Olympic Stadium. I didn't even have to walk outside on the short trip between underground subway stations.

For obvious reasons, I wasn't able to cover the Sunday afternoon game, but the boss was okay with that.

The Expos had a really good team in 1981, beating the St. Louis Cardinals for the National League East division title by a half game in the second half of the strike-interrupted season before eventually losing to the LA Dodgers in the NL Championship Series. The tight pennant race after the 50-game strike made covering  those late season games more fun and definitely more meaningful.

Montreal won the first game 6-3 and there was a lot of music and laughter in the Expos clubhouse after the game. By the time I filed my first lede and got there, Expos manager Dick Williams, who I met in 1976, his last year as manager of Charlie Finley's Oakland A's, was wrapping up the post-game meeting with the writers.

He was sitting behind his desk, smiling and talking with the local sports writers when I walked in.

The moment he saw me, Williams did a double take and began to scowl. He stood up and walked around the desk and stood over me in a menacing manner. I was confused and a little bit scared. I took a couple of steps back.

He was a big man and I had no idea why he would be angry with me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked gruffly. "You going to ask me more stupid questions?"

The room got quiet as the other writers, most of whom had no idea who I was, stared at us.

I said, "I'm here for the AP to cover your last home games. Did I do something to offend you?"

At that point, he broke into a smile and said, "Just giving you sh.t. Actually, it's good to see you."

I got a handshake _ he had a grip like a bear _ and a bro hug. And everyone relaxed and started to laugh. I didn't feel much like laughing, but I was relieved.

We really didn't know each other that well, although I had told him the story about Charlie O trying to hire me. I guess he was just in a joking mood and I was the one who came in his sights.

Dick and I had a nice talk after the other writers went out to the clubhouse and we chatted again the next night after his Expos beat the Mets 4-2.

The next _ and last _ time I got to cover a baseball game was in the early fall of 1982.

I got called into the office in New York after one of the veteran AP sports staffers fell ill and had to miss a couple of weeks of work.

During the two weeks I spent in New York, I wound up doing a variety of jobs, including writing baseball and basketball roundups, turning handouts into short stories and whatever else needed to be done. It was a nice change-up from the auto racing beat.

I walked into the office for my 4 p.m. to midnight shift one afternoon and the desk supervisor said, "Harris, don't take your coat off. We need you to cover the Yankees tonight. Your credential will be at the will call window and we need pregame and post game notes to go with the game story."

I was excited. I had covered only those two games in Montreal since I left Cleveland after the 1979 season. But I was also a little nervous  because I had never worked a game at Yankee Stadium and I didn't know my way around the place.

Getting there early and finding my way around seemed like a really good idea, so I jumped on the D train in Rockefeller Center and rode it to 161st street, just down the block from the stadium.

It was about 5 p.m. when I got there. That left plenty of time to figure out where everything was and gather some notes before the 7:05 start.

As I made my way to the Yankees' clubhouse, it also occurred to me that I didn't really know any of the current players and none of them knew me. I was hoping that wouldn't be a problem.

I walked into the quiet clubhouse and the first face I saw was Jeff Torborg, the manager of the Cleveland Indians in my last couple of years covering the team and now a coach for the Yankees. He was standing just inside the coaches dressing room.

Jeff saw me as I walked into the room and lit up with a big smile. We  shook hands and began to catch up when I noticed that Joe Altobelli, the former manager of the San Francisco Giants, who I met and interviewed numerous times in my years of covering the Cactus League in spring training, was right behind him.

Joe also gave me a big greeting and turned to Joe Pepitone, who I had interviewed several times on visits to Cleveland Stadium, and said, "You know Mike, don't you?"

Joe Pep got up, shook my hand and said, "What are you doing here. I thought you only haunted Cleveland!"

The three coaches and I continued chatting loudly, with a lot of laughter, when I suddenly noticed that another Yankees coach, Yogi Berra, was sitting quietly at the other end of the room in front of his cubicle.

Yogi, who I had never met one-on-one, was staring at the four of us like we were from outer space.

Finally, I broke off the conversation with Jeff and the two Joes for a moment and said, "Hi Yogi!"

The Hall of Famer and master of the spoonerism shook his head like he was confused, looked at the other three coaches and asked,  "Who the f...k did he used to be?"

Then he couldn't figure out why we were all laughing.

Needless to say, I got some good notes from that group. And I even got a friendly wave from Yogi when I came back to the clubhouse for interviews after the game.

Looking forward to another baseball season.