9202090316 DETROIT FREE PRESS 921022 Thursday, October 22, 1992 METRO FINAL CHASER

SPT

1C MITCH ALBOM SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION, Page 1C Copyright (c) 1992, Detroit Free Press WINFIELD IMPARTS A GOLDEN TOUCH TORONTO -- "Touch me!" Dave Winfield was saying, his eyes bulging, his voice rising like a TV evangelist's. "Touch me now! Feel my strength! Absorb it!" OK. I admit. I was tempted. This was Tuesday night, Winfield had just helped win a World Series game with a beautiful bunt, and someone had asked if he were dedicating this series to "the old guys." "Old guys?" Winfield said. "Yeah. People over 40, like us." At first, Winfield laughed, maybe because he doesn't think of himself as old, maybe because being in the same category as a sports writer, even momentarily, was unnerving. But then he grabbed the guy's hand and did his "Touch me!" thing, passing on the vibes, and the other reporters eyed their colleague enviously, because, hey, what happens if he wakes up tomorrow and can hit .300? Don't hold your breath. Winfield is a rare model. A '63 Corvette. A Steinway grand. At 41, he is the oldest player in this series, and yet, to paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, "the very athletic are different than you and me." And Winfield was always in the gifted program when it came to sports. Hey. This is a guy who was drafted by two pro baseball teams, two pro basketball teams, and the Minnesota Vikings of the NFL -- and he didn't even play football! He didn't play college basketball, either, until the coach spotted him during intramurals -- on a team called "The Soulful Strutters" -- and immediately gave him a spot on the Minnesota Gophers. Winfield helped lead them to a Big Ten title. Too bad the swim coach never saw Dave take a bath. He'd probably have a gold medal in the freestyle by now. Happiness is his secret The point is, Winfield is unique, tall, graceful, built to last. So we should not be surprised -- as many people are -- that this man, who has always acted older than his years, is now playing younger. And feeling younger. "I won't get a lot of sleep tonight," he said, after the Jays took a 3-1 lead in the series. "The anticipation -- I can't compare it to anything in my career." Winfield is like a tire that barely loses its tread. He was hitting .300 coming into Game 4. He knocked in 108 runs during the season. How remarkable is this? Winfield is working for a manager, Cito Gaston, who used to play alongside him in the Padres' outfield. How remarkable? Winfield is on a team that didn't exist when he broke into the majors. There are biologists who would like to slide Winfield's cells under a microscope. But the secret of his success may come down to a very simple diagnosis: The man is happy. "I appreciated the game when I was younger," Winfield said, "but, man, when you play 20 years, you got all these bumps and scratches, and you finally get a postseason with a great team and fans that appreciate you. . . . Well, that's top-of- the-list." Top-of-the-list. A-Number-1. King of the Hill. . . . Wait a minute. That's "New York, New York." And that's in the past, along with George (Get Me Some Dirt On Winfield) Steinbrenner. That makes Winfield happy. So do other sights in his rearview mirror, the lawsuits, the press, the California Angels, the San Diego Padres. Winfield, like a good shopper, has tried it all, both coasts, 15 managers, 31 stadiums. He is finally back to the climate in which he grew up, cold, hard winters that make him feel like a kid. And play like one, apparently. A positive influence on Blue Jays Call it a reciprocal relationship. The Blue Jays have always had a good team on paper, but never crashed the big room until graybeards such as Winfield and Jack Morris arrived. Their lockers are adjacent, and they are considered wizened elders in this Toronto tribe. But unlike Morris, Winfield is unfulfilled in Octobers. For all he has accomplished -- Gold Gloves, All-Star Games, millionaire contracts -- the World Series has never kissed him. His only other crack at it came the same year Ronald Reagan took office, 1981. Winfield was a woeful 1-for-22, the Yankees lost in six, and Steinbrenner called him "Mr. May." That was then. Winfield says he doesn't need to be the hero now, just a participant. His bunt in Game 3 was evidence. And seeing him motor from first to third Wednesday made you wonder what year it was. He is fun to watch here, the way he jokes with his teammates, the way he digs in against pitchers young enough to be his sons. One win away from the thing he wants most. Does life get sweeter as you get older? "You know, nothing would make me happier," Winfield said, "than years from now, looking at a photo of the first team from Canada to ever win a World Series, and seeing myself in the back row." He laughed. "Of course, I'd be towering over some of these short guys." That's OK. They'd probably be rubbing up against him for luck. COLUMN