My journalism journey part 24

I didn't get to cover many big-name professional events. But every now and then, there was an opportunity to mingle with the big guys. The first chance was in 1991 when the Minnesota Twins were in the playoffs and the World Series.
Dubbed the "Worst-to-First" World Series, the Twins played the Atlanta Braves as a pair of teams made the jump from last place to first place in one season. We got a form from the Twins to apply for press passes because we were close. Well, if you considered a five-hour drive close, I guess we were. Anyway, our sports editor, Ron Feickert, filled out the form, submitted it with sports writer Matt Schmidt's name as well as a photographer's name and waited.
We got one press pass, I believe. Matt got the chance to cover a World Series. I was crestfallen. Baseball was my sport. Back in 1983, I had a chance to cover the American League Championship Series when the White Sox played the Baltimore Orioles. I had Game 5. The White Sox lost in game 4 when Tito Landrum hit a home run to beat Britt Burns. I was watching the game in the press box on a 10-inch TV while covering the Dundee football game.
So here was another chance to get to a World Series, and I was passed over. I would be stuck in the office, covering high school girls' basketball, football and whatever else happened while Matt was in Minneapolis.
Ron was apologetic and told me if we got a chance at press passes for the Super Bowl to be played in Minneapolis, my name would be submitted. Not my first choice, but I'd take it.
I should note that I did get to the 1983 Major League Baseball Old-Timers Game and All-Star Game at old Comiskey Park. I had a photographer's pass for the All-Star Game, which allowed me to roam around the park or stand behind rows of foreign photographers, who fortunately were shorter than me so I could see over them.
So here comes Super Bowl XXVI in January 1992. Ron got the letter from the NFL and filled out the form, which allowed for one press pass. My name was submitted. A week later, the request was OK'd. Our executive editor, Cindy Eikamp, approved the expense, but only if I stayed in a lower-cost motel. At this point, it was difficult finding anything available. It was about a month before the Super Bowl; just about everything was booked close to the Twin Cities. I wound up getting a room for $50 in a Super 8 (a chain based in Aberdeen) in Hastings, Minnesota, about a 42-minute drive. And I couldn't stay up there the entire pre-Super Bowl week, like the other sports writers. I was to go up on Thursday and come back on the Monday after the game.
We had a peg for our coverage, too. A player from Oakes, North Dakota, was the backup for the Buffalo Bills' defensive right end, Bruce Smith. Phil Hansen was a rookie from North Dakota State University. I already had written stories about his family being excited about going to the Super Bowl (when I asked his father if he was proud of Phil playing in the Super Bowl, he gruffly told me he was proud of all his children).
So with a local guy on one of the teams, my job was to get Hansen to write a diary of a rookie on a Super Bowl team. He didn't feel comfortable writing one, so each evening, I called him and we talked. Then I wrote about what he was doing each day, how it felt, how he was handling things, etc.
On Thursday, I drove to Minneapolis and checked into Super Bowl central at the downtown Minneapolis hotel. There, I got my press pass, a nice Super Bowl briefcase, notebook, pen and other goodies. I checked out the press room and all the munchies left out for the press. I was living large. I never got any goodies covering high school football games.
Every day, I tried to catch up with Phil Hansen; one day we were supposed to meet in person at his hotel. We made a date and a time. I stood in the lobby of the hotel for a long time waiting for him, called up to his room and nothing happened. Finally, I called him again and he came down to the hotel coffee shop.
Lots of Bills fans were in the restaurant, too. He signed a few autographs while we talked. By the time I got done, it was nearly 8 p.m. I could have written the story in the hotel press room, but decided to drive home. This was Friday; the players would be moved to another hotel for Saturday and we wouldn't have access to them.
A lot of the stuff I covered was feature-type stories, tidbits on the peripheral of the game. Aberdeen people who were at the game or who had provided something to the Super Bowl fun somehow. The newspaper was still going to use a wire story for the game story. My job was to find things that no one else would know about. I can't remember any of them off the top of my head, but I do know none of them would be found in any other newspaper.
By Super Bowl Sunday, I was pretty beat, driving back and forth from Hastings to Minneapolis. I woke up that morning to grab a doughnut and coffee from the free breakfast at the Super 8 and found a couple of ceramic ornaments hanging from my door: one a Redskins helmet and the other a Bills helmet. The matchup was set. I thought it was nice of the motel to do this for its guests.
I drove down to the Minneapolis hotel to park my car, then took the press bus to the Metrodome. But when I got there, I realized I had no ticket to get in. Somehow that part of the packet was left out of my goodies. I was told by one ticket taker to go to one spot, then another told me to go back to another. I walked splat into the middle of a crowd protesting the Redskins name as being discriminatory to Native Americans. I felt like I was swimming against the stream.
Finally, I got to the correct window. That person asked why I didn't pick this up the first day when I got my credentials. I told him I didn't know it wasn't in there. This was, after all, my first Super Bowl. I didn't know what I was supposed to get.
Finally in the stadium, I went up to the upper deck where the NFL had seated a lot of the press. I was next to someone from England. The two men thought I was from Scotland (Aberdeen ... get it?). Nope, I told him, South Dakota, just a few thousand miles east. Waiting on the seat was a program and a box lunch. Later, a concession person came by with hot dogs and pop. More food was provided after the first quarter and at halftime, and again after the third quarter.
And that wasn't all the food. After the game, in the press area, there was coffee, tea, pop and beer. Yes, beer, all you could drink. I didn't have the beer, knowing I would have to drive 35 miles in the dark in an unfamiliar area. Plus, there were sandwiches, chips, cookies, popcorn. Lots of food. And you really didn't have to go to the interview rooms, either. The clerks brought transcripts of the interviews right to you.
I waited for a long time to speak to Phil Hansen, though, and tried to get the Bills representative to get him out. But after awhile, I decided it wasn't going to happen and I had enough stuff to write a column and a feature. So I went and sat down in food heaven, er, the press room, and did my stories, transmitted (yes, before Wi-Fi and Internet access and cellphones yet).
And then to wait for the press bus and a ride back to the hotel to get my car. I think I got back to the Hastings Super 8 sometime after 2 a.m.
Yes, going to a big-time sports event could be fun, but it sure was tiring, too.