<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8601090304
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
860226
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Wednesday, February 26, 1986
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
WISH YOU WERE HERE; WE  COULD USE THE BODY HEAT
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
LAKELAND, Fla. -- TO: FREE PRESS SPORTS DEPARTMENT

  FROM: SPRING TRAINING CREW 

  Dear Everyone:
  Arrived safely in Florida, and what a surprise! It's freezing cold. It's
raining. Half the  Tigers are down with the flu. The other half are sipping
mugs of hot soup. Driving is almost impossible, what with the flooding. And
everyone is still reeling from the news last night, when the guy on  the TV
said "snow flurries expected." Honest to God, it's really something.
  And to think, just a few days ago you  were all ribbing me about coming
down here. "Don't work too HARD," you said. "Florida,  huh? Gee, that's
ROUGH," you said. "Better luck NEXT YEAR," you said. "Spring TRAINING?" you
said. "TOUGH BREAK!" you said.
  Well, if only I could laugh. If only I could drive to the beach and dangle
my feet in the ocean and think about how lucky I am. I can't do that, of
course. Shark warnings.
  No golf, either. The three-day hailstorm pretty much ravaged every course
in the state. Instead, we  mostly stay inside our rented apartment -- Gary
Santaniello, our baseball writer, and me. We don't mind too much. There's hot
chocolate, and Gary has gone out for some firewood. The police said we're
better off indoors, anyhow, what with the big crime wave that started last
month. We lost two rent-a-cars already. Oops. Sorry, Boss. Guess you can't be
too happy about that.
  The apartment, by the  way, is all we expected, if we expected North Korea.
It'll be fine, I'm sure, once we get rid of the mice. And the alligators. We
do need to get some coal for the furnace. Come to think of it, we need  to get
a furnace.
Sunburn? No, heater burn  Of course, it would all be OK if the Tigers  were
as cheery as you claimed they would be. "Should be tough getting INTERVIEWS,"
you said. "You'll have to  interrupt their TANNING SESSIONS. Boy, do we pity
YOU!"  Do you remember saying that?
  Well, gosh, were you guys wrong! There's no problem interrupting their
tanning, since the sun hasn't shone since  we got here. It is kind of tough
getting interviews, though, as the team bus is always running back and forth
to the clinic.
  Poor Sparky Anderson. Sneezing all the time. It's hard to manage a team
with a box of Kleenex under your arm. It's even harder to blow your nose with
ski gloves. I don't think the players were quite prepared, either. Lance
Parrish missed half a practice yesterday, shopping  for fur boots. And Jack
Morris spent five hours looking for a hooded down parka. Couldn't find one
anywhere.
  I tell you, Florida isn't what we expected.
  Strange, because since prehistoric times,  newspaper writers have been
leaving cold climates in February to go to Florida for spring training. And
they have always encountered bitter resentment from coworkers, who do little
things like stuff letter bombs in their briefcases, and say, "Have a nice trip
-- horse-breath."
  I don't really understand this. Who would want to be down here now, during
flu season? Even the shuffleboard courts  are iced over. A guy hit a shot
yesterday and it's still going. This is enviable? Well. I suppose the
resentment is just one of those crazy things that happens in springtime, like
the grass turning green.  Too bad there's no grass left down here.
  Guess you heard about the tidal wave.
Shoulda brought my skates
  Anyhow, I'll try my best to get some serious work done, as soon as they get
the snow  tires on my car. Hey, remember those cracks you made about the
swimming pool? "Work hard on your BREASTSTROKE. Don't fall off your RUBBER
RAFT! DON'T DRINK AND FLOAT!"  Well, thanks for the concern.  We won't be
doing any swimming, though. Or rafting. Maybe some ice skating.
  Frankly, I'm kind of concerned about the Tigers getting in shape down here.
Sparky was talking about a cross-country skiing regimen,  but I don't know.
Isn't that mostly for Norwegians? Surprised? Yes, we are. A little. All that
suntan oil and cocoa butter we bought at the airport? What a waste. And we
charged it on the  expense account, too, which is a real bummer, huh, Boss?
  Anyhow, I'd like to write more,  but Gary is due back with the wood and
I've got to get some kerosene, since all the power went out with the
electrical storm. Then we'll catch a sleigh over to the Tigers  practice and
try to do some interviews. I hope the TV guys don't hog all the space heaters.
  I sure have been humbled by this. Just  goes to show you that when it comes
to work, there's no such thing as a free lunch. Hope all is well. See you in a
month when this hellish nightmare is over. Hope you can forgive me for ever
sounding  cocky.
  Sincerely,
  Mitch
  P.S. Now do you feel better?
  P.P.S. Good. I lied about everything.
  P.P.P.S. Pass the suntan oil, will ya, Gary?
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<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
BASEBALL;COLUMN;DTIGERS
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
