It's Christmas, and we know this because you have resorted to some cheap ruse to "check your E-mails" rather than referee one more fight between your children about who gets to play "Deathface Burns Down The Hospital 3000" on the X-Box.

	If Tiger Woods didn't like what he found under this tree, what makes him think I want to find his book under my tree this Christmas?

It's Christmas, and we know this because you have gotten a new complement of self-help books for your casual reading. "Hit Straighter, Hit Longer, And Improve Your Golf Game Too." "Outwitting The Mighty Chinook With Dr. Phil." "Make Cheese The Favre Way." "Businessmen And The Partners Who Hate Them, By Pat Riley And Steve Javie."

They have tumbled out in a huge, unsightly pile from beneath the tree, from spouses, children, friends and other miscellaneous gladhanders and suck-ups. They are designed to make you a better golfer, angler, hunter, archer, fan, cook and NBA referee, and they are a glorious advancement for Americans everywhere.

Well, OK. That's not entirely true. They're mostly glorious advancements for the publishing industry, still licking its wounds after a disastrous summer season -- "365 Ways To Entertain And Guide Your Children The Trailblazer Way," "Make Millions Betting The Road Team Giving Seven, By Pete Rose And Hank Goldberg," and "The Bengal Way: Guiding Your Company Through The Tough Times Ahead."

And you have those, too. They're the ones keeping your refrigerator from emitting than annoying hum late at night.

See, those are the self-help books for the modern sports fan and devoted non-reader. Tiger Woods, for example, has nothing to tell you that you can possibly use, because the first chapter is invariably "Be Kissed On The Mouth By God," followed by "Nurturing Your Talent Through Hard Work And Endless Free Time."

And if Pat Riley understood the corporate culture as much as he claims to, he would walk on the floor before a game and give a plateful of hot toll house cookies to Joey Crawford, "Just to show my appreciation for that loose ball foul back in '97."

	There is more than one way to kill a tree this Christmas. Give one of those ever helpful self-improvement books.

Truth is, the message of the modern athlete are essentially lost on us. Even inspirational ones like, "So You're Sick, Are You? Shut Up And Get On Your Bike, By Lance Armstrong," or "Taking The 'C' Out Of BCS, By The Notre Dame Athletic Department," they just leave us cold.

The lesson of the modern sporting culture is that your run-of-the-mill top-grade athlete really is different from you and me. From an early age, they have the power to make adults drool, bark and surrender great wads of cash, and we know that because of the newly released "It Takes A Village Playing The Numbers, By Ed (The Big Wolverine) Martin."

Their lessons may be inspiring, but they have remarkably little to do with the harder business of raising kids and grinding out a marriage on two jobs and a limited budget. "Get Off Your Ass, You Bloated Brazilian Toad, By Denise Austin" doesn't really get a lot of reading from someone who has autographed the family room easy chair with Cheek One and Cheek Two. Nor does "Peace And Serenity Through 65,000 Situps A Day, Unless You'd Rather Just Sit There Waiting To Explode, By The Ubiquitously Tedious Fitness Celebrity John Basedow."

These are gifts provided by people who are saying (a) that you're fat and (b) that they haven't given a lot of thought to your present.

The problem is, your family and friends think you like to read (an iffy enough proposition), so they go to their local megabookstore for the perfect item, only to be mesmerized by works like "Taking Orders And Liking It, By Dave Campo," "I Can't Believe They Still Play Football Without Me, By Deion Sanders," and "Conflict Resolution For The New Millennium, By Chris Mills, et. al."

So you take them, smile, say thanks and curse under your breath. The best you can do now is balance out your bookcase with last year's gifts, like "Win The World Cup Any Time You Like, By The French National Team," "Captain My Captain: Curtis Strange And The Ryder Cup," and "Johnny Sack's Viewers Guide To Olympic Figure Skating."

Because you've been had, yet again. Christmas is here, and you feel like an underloved dope.

But get over it. Sit down, be with your family, relax, enjoy the day. Oregon State and Pitt will be on soon, and until then, you can catch up on the serialized excerpts from "Lambada 2003, The Really Forbidden Dance of Love, By Hootie Johnson and Martha Burk."

And ho ho ho right back at ya, Giggles.

Ray Ratto is a columnist with the San Francisco Chronicle and a regular contributor to ESPN.com