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He'll soon be a groom, but with Tiger Woods making $90-million a year, what do you get the world's hottest, richest sports name?
His ailing dad, Earl, managed to create a gift that brings Christmas morning delight even to the eyes of the son with everything. For an ultimate reality show, the old Green Beret bought his kid Fort Bragg.
Well, kind of.
"I'm so charged about what's going to happen just after the Masters, spending a couple of days experiencing a lot of the training Army special forces troops go through," Tiger said with a major championship grin.
"Pops set it up with the C.O. at Fort Bragg (N.C.) and I can't wait to feel a little of what they feel. To converse with them. Big difference is, this is on U.S. soil without enemy bullets and grenades flying.
"I will try to get across to those soldiers what huge respect I have for them and the jobs they do. I get far too much credit for things I do and those young people get far too little."
It was good, charming even, hearing an athlete with extreme celebrity talk with passion about courageous, dedicated defenders of his country. "Our troops have always been dear to me," he said.
"My dad brought me up on stories good and bad about Vietnam and what heroic stuff guys in uniform do without ever getting proper credit ... or, in some cases, any credit."
This is a quick second chapter of 2004 mini-military experiences for the 28-year-old Woods. Last month, while competing in the Dubai Open, the golfer and tour chum/Orlando neighbor Mark O'Meara were taken by helicopter to the aircraft carrier George Washington off the coast of Saudi Arabia. "It was a sensational couple of hours," Tiger said. "I wanted to stay longer. It would've been great to spend the night. Hey, you know what it cost a day to operate that carrier with 5,000 personnel? A million dollars.
"You should see what those sailors - looking so young that they made me feel like I'm entering middle age - do to keep our jet fighters flying. Every day, laying their lives on the line. I am in awe of such people. If golf had not been introduced into my life, I might well be a special ops guy."
Tiger winning another Masters wouldn't impress me nearly as much as what he had to say, sitting alone in front of a locker.
OLYMPICS, THE WORRY: It was the global birth of terrorism, erupting before my sportswriter eyes at the 1972 Munich Olympics, and the Summer Games might never escape the ugly cloud of worry about a repeat.
Montreal was an armed camp in '76, but nothing big went wrong. Los Angeles was fortified in '84 and bad guys stayed away. Seoul was armed for trouble in '88 but survived with few scrapes. Barcelona went okay in '92. Atlanta had a bombing in '96, but terrorism it wasn't.
Athens in '04 is a reason to again gulp. Never have tensions been so volatile. Groups that worry you most are based not far away, though not easy to see.
Security will be immense, but how much can it deter? Suspicious eyes and ears are at optimum pitch, searching around the globe for hints of festering trouble.
Lenny Krayzelburg, a Russian-born winner of three swimming gold medals for the United States at Sydney in 2000, speaks with trepidation.
"There's a lot of hostility toward Americans," said the 28-year-old who lives in Studio City, Calif. "You're a target. It (the risk) could be higher this time."
Joining that chorus is Wimbledon champion Serena Williams, who vowed, "My safety and my security are a bit more important than tennis. If it becomes a real concern, where I wouldn't feel personally comfortable, then I wouldn't go to Athens."
If she skips, surely sister Venus will. They were Sydney doubles gold medalists. Such ducking will be more obvious among big-name pros. For those viewing Athens as the experience of a lifetime, their only enormous chance, you can bet participation will be strong.
Olympics, a creation of ancient Greece, have always been intended to be a peaceful gathering of the finest performers in sports, with anthems playing and flags waving and doves flying.
That comfort, that joy, was horrendously scarred and reshaped at Munich. Before the Black Tuesday tragedy, as a reporter, I strolled in and out of Olympic Village with ease. Flashing a piece of plastic. Getting but a sleepy glimpse from gatekeepers. Smiling. Awash in the sweetness of the Olympic theme.
No more. Sad. Scary.