It's graduation season.

And if you've attended a high school or college graduation ceremony in recent weeks and didn't witness someone from the sports world giving the commencement address, you're in the minority.

Or at least close to it.

It seems educational institutions are increasingly bypassing the traditional commencement speakers -- politicians, CEOs, astronauts, best-selling novelists, and the like -- for sports figures. Lance Armstrong, Joan Benoit Samuelson, Adonal Foyle, Phil Martelli, Joe Torre, Stan Van Gundy and Jerry West -- just to name a few -- have all spoken to graduating classes this spring.

The thing is, the life of a big-name, big-money athlete or coach is so foreign to "regular" people that there is almost nothing the audience can relate to.

That's why these players and coaches should stick to what they know best -- sports -- and speak directly to the potential future pro athletes in the crowd.

To show you what that might sound like, I've prepared a sample commencement speech -- borrowing heavily (no, very heavily) from the famous "Wear Sunscreen" column by Mary Schmich that Baz Luhrrman made into a song a few years ago.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of 2006:

Watch the Suns' dance team.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, the Suns' dance team would be it. The long-term benefits of watching attractive, scantily clad women gyrate have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice is no more reliable than the Houston Texans' draft board. 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 retired and see a feature piece about your career on ESPN Classic. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and realize in a way you can't grasp now how much bulk you added to your frame by using steroids. Your testicles will be smaller than you can imagine.

Don't worry about your contract. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to win a Super Bowl by starting Peyton Manning at quarterback. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your mind. Leave them to your agent, attorney, accountant, financial advisor and personal assistant. That's why you have them.

Do one groupie every year who scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless and put it on an album, though. And don't trust people who tell you to do so. It will suck.

Endorse.

Don't waste your time on practice. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The season is long and, in the end, we're talking about practice. We're talking about practice, man. We're talking about practice.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you can succeed in doing this, you're probably Barry Bonds.

Keep your old fan mail. Throw away your old paternity suits.

Stretch. Especially if you're in any way related to Ken Griffey, Jr.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your signing bonus. The most interesting athletes I know blew $20 million on a house. Some of the most interesting I know blew $40 million on a yacht.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone and you're stuck playing DH.

Maybe you'll get traded, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll be an All-Star, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll win a title, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken after the most inconsequential tackles like Ray Lewis. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. That's what sports radio is for.

Enjoy your body. Abuse it every way you can. Don't be afraid to go out all night and don't listen to people who disapprove of your doing so. They're just jealous.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but on "Dancing with the Stars" after failing to catch on as a fifth receiver with the Broncos.

Read the playbook, but don't bother following the plays. Your coaches will never know how to utilize your talents properly.

Do not read sports columnists. They will only make you stupid.

Get to know your fans. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your posse members. They're the best link to your stash and the people most likely to lie for you under oath.

Understand that teammates come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to keep them on your side, because the older you get, the more you'll need them to help you convince management that you're still worth keeping around.

Play in New York City once, as long as it's not for the Knicks. Play in Northern California once, but leave before you're linked to BALCO.

Travel. The NBA doesn't call it.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Agents will cheat. Owners will lie. You, too, will get cut. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, agents were forthright, owners were generous and players didn't hold out for larger contracts.

Hold out for a larger contract.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you'll be in a players union. Maybe you'll have a long-term, guaranteed contract. But if you play in the NFL, both of those are pretty much worthless.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 you'll have to hold a press conference to deny rumors about your sexual preferences just like Mike Piazza did.

Be careful which steroids you buy, but be patient with those who supply them. Steroids are a kind of performance-enhancing drug. Dispensing them is a way of fishing an inferior athlete from the disposal, wiping him off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling him for more than he's worth.

But trust me on the Suns' dance team.

DJ Gallo is a regular contributor to ESPN The Magazine as well as the founder and sole writer of the award-winning sports satire site SportsPickle.com. He also contributes headlines to The Onion.