The shoulder is sore, fellow dwellers, after lugging The Cooler cross-country.

	Get in the spirit of Masters week, just like Tiger Woods and Vijay Singh, right.

That's right. From today through next Monday, you can get Augusta green-colored Dixie cups of Sparkletts -- right here, on special.

You know, like lime Jell-O shots -- only not served by some smoking hot, scantily clad 23-year-old vixen at a watering hole on a Friday night, charging you $6 per Jell-O shot, which you buy, thinking you've got a chance with said smoking hot 23-year-old vixen, only to find yourself $30 lighter as you watch her disappear with the Jell-O shot tray into the crowd.

And you're left with five Jell-O shots, having to try and explain to your buddies why you're doing Jell-O shots. 'Cause only, like, sorority chicks do Jell-O shots.

But I digress.

Put on your green coats, Cooler-dwellers. It's Masters Week.

What? You don't own a green blazer?

That simply won't do! Head down to your local TV news station, wait in the parking lot for the weatherman to head to his car, then jump him. Tear off that green sportscoat. Make it your own. Wear it all week.

If somebody asks, tell 'im you're preparing early for your Halloween costume as Ted Baxter from the old "Mary Tyler Moore Show."

Is there a better week of TV golf than this? The verdant scenery, the legendary winners, the treacly piano music.

Wait. Scratch that last part.

The treacly piano music has got to go. I believe last year in a Cooler we discussed how it sounded like being put on hold at a funeral home. Write CBS: Get rid of the treacly piano! If "Monday Night Football" is the top ratings-grabber in TV sports, why not follow its lead? I'm not necessarily suggesting Bocephus to sing from an Augusta rooftop. But we can compromise. Can't, like, Sting come up with some sort of adult-contemporary Masters song? Or avid golfers Glenn Frey or Huey Lewis?

Hey, Ozzy Osbourne is hot again, with his MTV gig. Maybe he could bite the head off an azalea, then kick into a Masters rock anthem.

(As for the MTV gig, as my buddy Malcy wonders: What's the real story behind his constant artwork in that sketchbook in the kitchen?)

Either way, the Masters is dynamite TV. And like all TV, it's based on illusion. Seriously. You ever been to the Masters? The area just outside Magnolia Lane is a hoot. You'd think it'd be all rolling hills and graceful antebellum mansions. Instead, it's strip mall city. And I mean, low-grade strip mall city. No joke. I ate at an IHOP last year just off Magnolia Lane that was so sketchy, I don't think the Georgia Department of Health had the stones to even enter the place to try and shut it down. Literally, a couple of 3-irons from the hallowed 18th green, you can buy, like, a rifle and some shrink-wrap porn in a strip mall. America: An amazing country.

Which is why we're fired up for Masters week. There's nothing like illusion, strip malls, green jackets and a golf major to remind us why we're sports fans, baby. So set the TiVo. Don't miss a stroke. And we'll move straight to the Weekend List of Five:

1. They're not booing, they're saying "Jaaaaaaaaa-sooooon"

	Bronx cheers for Jason Giambi are simply baffling.

Yo! What's up, New York? I give you nothing but unconditional love. Every chance I get, I pimp Yankee lore, Joe Torre, the Bleacher Creatures and Bob Sheppard. And what do you give in return? You boo Jason Giambi! Is this any way to bridge a West Coast-East Coast bond? Do we have to go Tupac-Biggie on this whole thing? Come on! That is so Sept. 10 of you to boo my guy Giambi.

In the fourth freaking game of the season!

But you did. So let's make a deal. When G rips his first game-winning bomb for the Yanks, which should be sometime this week, you don't get to cheer. You have to hang your head in shame. You have to do penance. And don't give me this "This-is-how-we-christen-our-players" bullcrap. What kind of life is that? What are you guys, sick in the head? Come on!

Shape up!

2. Dusty's thugs

	Barry Bonds, one of Dusty's thugs, comes through with the glove on Saturday.

I think it was two years ago where the Giants sported T-shirts that read "Dusty's Thugs" in spring training. Quite simply, the coolest Tees around. If anybody knows of one on eBay, I'm willing to go 50, 60 bucks. Let me know.

Anyway, the Fabulous Baker Boys are at it again. Six and oh! In the prettiest yard in the country! With the mack daddy home run man of our generation! These guys keep it up, and I'll really wear out my exclam key. Get into Livan Hernandez, while you're at it. He's not just 2 and oh. He's raking the ball. For a large man with ample girth, this is really worth watching. It's also worth dusting off my guy T.C.'s classic take on Livan.

You watch this guy every fifth day, and you see a big man, a fat man, and you see him perform with balletic grace. You marvel. Or, like my guy T.C, said one day after Livan fielded a bunt and threw, off one leg, to first base for the out: "Livan, man. There's nothing like a graceful fat man. It's like watching Jackie Gleason dance."

3. Curt Schilling: a respectful moment

	Curt Schilling's one guy you can't help but admire.

If you're a Giants fan, Curt Schilling is evil. Not only is he good, not only is he good in the NL West, but he's been good while he rips Barry Bonds. Come on, Schill! It's enough to make a Giants fan not give your talent its due.

But time heals. And Schilling won a World Series with a hugely gutsy effort. And he's back, fanning 17 Sunday in a one-hitter.

So it's time to give the guy his due. After Sept. 11, he wrote a beautiful letter to the country. It wasn't Hemingway, but it was from the heart.

And another story before we go: The PGA Tour features a player named Jeff Julian, a fringe player who has gained and lost his Tour card over the last few years, never winning. Then Jeff Julian was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease last year. He doesn't have much time to play golf. He's trying, though. He got a sponsor's exemption to play the AT&T at Pebble Beach in February; and to play the BellSouth in Atlanta last weekend. He didn't make the cut in either, but who cares?

More to the point, Julian writes a diary for PGAtour.com. And when Julian's story became public, who sent him an encouraging e-mail out of the blue? Curt Schilling.

Sometimes, you've just got to appreciate a man's makeup. Well done, Schill.

4. The Davis Cup: That's right, we care!

	Andy Roddick's cool quotient keeps going up, up, up.

I don't know much about tennis, but I know Andy Roddick hooked the United States up Sunday. And I know of all the tennis players we've got going right now, Andy Roddick is nearly as cool as they come -- full of pep, heart, vigor and good ol' American vitality. Roddick cuts a figure straight out the post-World War I European view of Americans -- that we're an optimistic, healthy, can-do bunch.

So, shoot, Andy. Go get 'em -- over there!

5. They're not booing. They're saying "Gooooooooose"
Retief Goosen -- get into him. If you don't have him in your Masters pool, grab him. Then again, grab Tiger Woods, David Duval, Ernie Els, Phil Mickelson and Sergio Garcia while you're at it. Oh, and Jose Maria Olazabal, too.

But definitely Goosen.

Since this cat won the U.S. Open, he's won in Europe, Australia, the United States -- and he hasn't changed his expression since missing that putt that would have won on the 72nd hole at Southern Hills.

Still waters run deep, baby. Goosen has the stuff. In fact, I'd draw him an Augusta-green colored cup from the Cooler if I thought it'd shake him up. This guy would probably take a long pull, then go make birdie.

Just the kind of guy we like around The Cooler.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Weekend Water Cooler" every Monday for Page 2.