Gentlemen of the class of 2000

Wear a cup.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, wearing a cup would be it. The long-term benefits of cups have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until you're 42 and batting .220 and wondering where the power went. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at your baseball cards and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. Unless you were to wear those hideous Astros uniforms of the eighties, in which case you'd be glad that's behind you now. You are not as fat as you imagine, unless you're Albert Belle, that is.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to figure out Runs Created by chewing tobacco. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday, like the New York Yankees on a mission from God.

Do one thing every day that scares you, even if it means seeing Pete Rose's haircut hawking merchandise on the Home Shopping Network.

Sing, but not show tunes, especially in the infield during a game, and especially not in the showers.

Scratch if you have to. And you always have to.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, especially the fans'. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours, especially untrustworthy GMs.

Floss daily, but I don't mean that floozy with the thong.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. After all, do you really care if you're making $12M instead of $15M, especially when it's a billion times better than getting a real job?

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults, unless they’re from John Rocker, in which case remember them to your grave.

Keep your old contracts. Throw away your old bank statements, especially the ones that show how you squandered $20M in a year on bad investment advice from "friends."

Stretch. This is especially useful for preventing further cup-type injuries.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with the ball when it's hit at you. Plenty of major leaguers have this problem, and hey, they're still playing and it's still better than getting a real job.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone. Oh, sorry, that's football advice.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. But if you do, get a pre-nuptial contract. It's kind of like a cup, but for your bank account. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. However, if you don't remember that cup thing, you probably won't.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. No, not like that! Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own. And remember it's your means to a ticket out of a real job.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room. But don't dance too hard and strain something. And so we're back to the cup thing again.

Listen to your coach's advice, even if you don't follow it.

Read beauty magazines. There are probably some hot chicks in there. And if you're really lucky, you might get to marry one of them. But remember that pre-nuptial thing.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Plus they might sell you to the Pirates when you aren't looking. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Plus, they might sell you to the Egyptians if you're mean to them.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young. Plus, they’re the only ones who will care that you once made an unassisted triple play, or struck out fifteen batters eighteen years ago on a freezing Monday evening in Montreal.

Live in New York City once, but leave before the tabloids turn against you. And they will. Live in Northern California once, but leave before you give up trying or caring, like Barry Bonds. Travel, but not just between ballparks. There's a whole world out there.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise, but so will your salary. Politicians will philander, and so might your wife. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders. Unless he's the pitching coach from hell, in which case stick gum on the sole of his shoe and give him a hot foot.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you'll build a nice trust fund. Maybe you'll have a killer agent or a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85, just like Pete Rose.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it is worth. Gee, sounds like a Tim McCarver book.

But trust me on the cup thing.