TERRE HAUTE, Ind. More and more, NFL teams have stopped coming to garden spots like this one to prepare for the season. Eighteen of the 32 teams are having training camp at their home facilities, a trend that is growing as financial concerns take precedence.

That, however, isn’t happening for the Indianapolis Colts, whose 2009 training camp here closes today. It won’t happen as long as team president Bill Polian is in charge, and it probably won’t happen as long as somebody named Irsay owns this franchise. The players might dislike the loss of basic creature comforts as they sweat through the month here in the Paris of the Midwest, but the men running the show absolutely love it.

Even if it is more expensive than staying at home.

“It is our clear preference to get away (and have training camp outside of Indianapolis),” Polian said, adding he’d rather have more training camp and fewer organized team activities. “I would never say never (about moving back to Indianapolis), but this is our preference.”

A few reasons:

It gets his coaches and players out of their home environment and forces them to concentrate on football at least 14 hours a day. There are no wives and kids, no girlfriends, no chores, no social commitments. It’s drudgery, but it’s necessary drudgery.

It forces coaches and players to bond — unless you’re an Oakland Raiders coach — sticking roughly 100 men into small dorm rooms on a college campus. They practice together, eat together, socialize together, abuse the rookies together.

“I don’t know how you judge human relations, but you see relationships develop and you see them bond,” Polian said.

Said defensive end Dwight Freeney: “Normally, at home, you’d be at your house and I’d be at my house and, ‘OK, we’ll see each other at work.’ Now, guys are right next door, so after practice, you kind of bond, sit around, play some cards, relax and just talk.”

It’s great for fans. If the Colts trained at West 56th Street, fans wouldn’t have the kind of access they have at Rose-Hulman. Here, they can watch practice, line up by the hundreds outside the autograph tents, lean on the railings near the team’s locker room to reach out to their favorite players.

“It’s terrifically important to have young people have a chance to see our players up close and personal,” Polian said. "So many of them can’t afford to come to games or don’t have the time, but they can come here and talk to the players, get an autograph. That’s how you make new fans.

“And I’d hate to see that ever change. As a business and as a sport, we’d be making a bad decision (to return to Indy for camp).”

There is a lot to be said about training camp and its shared deprivations, a lot to be said about the way it builds teams and esprit de corps . ** No room service, no mint on the pillow, no creature comforts . . . and something happens.

The players grow together, whether they like it or not. They get to know one another, whether they like it or not. They play cards or video games together, abuse the rookies (although rookies have it easy compared with the old days), go to the local bar for a couple of pops.

Today, when camp closes for the 2009 season, the players will rejoice that Terre Haute is in the rearview mirror. And yet these exercises in communal deprivation are still the best way to prepare for a season.

“I like the fact we can control the environment a little bit and keep them focused more on the scheme and things we need to teach without outside interference,” coach Jim Caldwell said. “It’s also a chance to build some camaraderie and cohesion. Team building is an important process.”

Training camp isn’t as harsh as it used to be when teams brought more than 100 players to camp and tortured guys to get into shape. Today, teams are limited to 80 players in camp. There are two-a-day practices, but one is done in shorts and shells, and without contact. Players come to camp in top physical shape, so hellish conditioning drills are things of the past.

As a bonus, this year’s weather was unusually tame. Most years, it’s so oppressively hot and muggy, even the crickets are too wiped out to make a racket. Comparatively, this was Club Med.

A lot of us won’t miss Terre Haute. Not the players, who miss their beds, their food and their significant others. Not Our Man Chap (Mike Chappell), who has to stay here without the added benefit of accruing Marriott points. And not the media types who make the trek up and down I-70 every couple of days.

Here’s the strange thing: If the Colts moved the whole operation back to West 56th Street, I think everybody would miss it.

Really.