IN ARIZONA, BASEBALL RUBS SLEEP FROM ITS EYES.

Byline: KEVIN MODESTI

TEMPE, Ariz. - The first bratwurst of spring - chosen over the newfangled Desert Dog - was consumed in an aluminum bleacher way down the left-field line, while sunbathers lolled on a grassy bank nearby, a gray- haired grandmother strolled with a pair of red-headed kids, and Gene Autry's ``Back in the Saddle Again'' played on the loudspeaker.

Not 100 feet away in left field stood Barry Bonds, known by many as the Most Valuable Player of the 1990s.

Some sports-watchers would rather spend March indoors at the NCAA basketball tournament, tailing Steve Lavin through hallways in Uniondale, N.Y. Some of us can be perfectly happy here under a cloudless sky in a light breeze at a spring-training game between the Angels and the San Francisco Giants that ended in an amiable, 11-inning tie.

``March Madness is the Epitome of Good Sports,'' read the headline in The Arizona Republic on Monday. Then spring training must be the epitome of good sports living. They are complete opposites among the institutions of American sports, the frantic NCAA Tournament, in which each game is do or die, and civilized spring training, featuring a month of meaningless games. Choosing one over the other is a matter of taste, like whether to put ketchup on a hotdog.

The first day at spring training is best spent wandering. Watch the minor-leaguers practice on the most distant diamond. Watch a young player chat up a girl through the chain-link fence. Watch kids chase after a player they can't possibly recognize (``Can I have your autograph, sir?'' a member of America's problem youth says to shaggy-haired Angels right-hander Ben Weber).

Watch a left-hander, working on his delivery in the bullpen, pause as his coach illustrates a point about weight transfer by mimicking a golf swing, a familiar frame of reference for any pitcher. Watch old men in baseball uniforms, pants cuffed at the knees as in their day, walk from field to field dragging fungo bats, and wonder which of those leathery faces you ought to know.

Notice how many different franchises' caps are worn by the fans, most of whom aren't here to support a favorite team but simply to renew acquaintances with the game.

A few dozen fans were in Tempe Diablo Stadium early on Tuesday to watch the major-leaguers take infield and batting practice. The infield routine sums up spring training's easy choreography. Four Angels coaches, fanned out around home plate, hit ground balls to four sets of infielders in an almost unconscious left-right rhythm that wastes no motion. At the same time, another coach stands in right field and lifts fly balls to a dozen Angels in left. And in shallow right, the catchers warm up each other's arms, taking turns in a crouch.

At 11:30, the PA man asks fans to clear the park and return for the 1 o'clock game. Minutes later, all those obedient fans are spotted sitting on benches outside the ticket office, a few tilting their faces toward the sun, with nowhere better to be, in no hurry to get there.

Terry Reynolds, the former Dodgers executive who is here scouting for the team, remembers the different atmosphere when football's New Orleans Saints held summer training camp in Vero Beach, Fla. ``Geez, they'd work out three times a day, they'd hold meetings at night, they had to sign in for meals. It was so stringent,'' Reynolds said. ``It's a much different intensity.''

In the spring, it's no surprise to hear about the Chicago Cubs' Eric Young and an umpire staging a mock argument after the very first pitch of the 2001 Cactus League was called a high strike. Or to hear about new Arizona Diamondbacks manager Bob Brenly letting former Cubs first baseman Mark Grace take his position before pulling him in the fifth inning of a game in Mesa, so Grace got a standing ovation from the Cubs fans (``My Tommy Lasorda move,'' Brenly said). Or to hear about Angels manager Mike Scioscia catching warmup pitches between innings of a recent game and receiving his own standing O (``I didn't know he could still get down that low,'' Reynolds said).

For fans, Arizona has one big edge over Florida. Book a room in Phoenix and you're within a half-hour of seven major-league camps. The Diamondbacks, Colorado Rockies and Chicago White Sox are two hours away in Tucson, but they ride the bus north for games.

Last spring, I spent five days here, never left the Phoenix area - and saw all 10 Arizona-based teams in action.

The advantage of Florida? ``You can break a sweat because of the humidity and all,'' said George Genovese, the great San Fernando Valley scout.

Genovese meant the players can break a sweat, not the fans. In the spring, there's no excuse for baseball fans to get that worked up.