The life of the baseball player trumps that of the football or basketball player in several respects. There’s more room for employment, you don’t have to run as much, and it’s possible to leverage a marginal amount of talent into a long and lucrative career. Another overlooked benefit: unlike the football or basketball player, you can be certain that you will not have to work on Christmas.

This morning, MLB.com posted a series of interviews with players on what Christmas means to them. Let’s take a look.

John Danks (White Sox): Really, it isn’t any one thing I remember. I know in watching home videos when my brother and I were young — and I’m not sure if my sister was born yet — I was the big, brave older brother and Jordan was the little kid scared of Santa Claus. He was not going to come within 100 feet of him. There are videos of me taking a big leap and sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall, and Jordan is crying off to the side with his balloon.

Doubtlessly, Danks asked Santa if he could become a major-league pitcher one day. His dorky kid brother missed the boat, and would probably love to show you how you can save money on your long-distance bill.

Here’s Nationals reliever Steven Shell on his favorite Christmas present:

I also got a three-wheeler for Christmas and I liked that, too. It was one of those fancy three-wheelers that is outlawed. I ran it up a chain-link fence and it flipped over. I didn’t have it very long. It was sold.

I really hope he named it “Rosebud.”

Here’s the Twins’ Joe Nathan on his favorite present:

It probably wasn’t even a huge Christmas gift, but when I was younger, I got this little motorcycle handlebar game. I probably remember it so clearly because it made this real loud sound, like a dirt bike. You’d sit there and you’d steer. The game is, like, in front of you and you just had to steer around obstacles.

Sucks for Joe. His favorite Christmas present makes for a terrible anecdote because it’s apparently really difficult to describe. Whenever I have a kid, I’m going to buy him things that are easy to describe, like an apple or a lump of coal. That way he can talk about it when he’s older without sounding like a doofus.

And finally, here’s Brian Bruney, who really gets into the holiday spirit of sadism:

My wife used to call me the Grinch because I wasn’t into decorating the tree or putting lights on the house and things like that. Now that I’ve got a 2-year-old daughter, she goes and decorates the tree, but all of the ornaments are two feet high.

One of the great joys of parenthood, I think, is having someone around the house to screw around with who’s short and idealistic. “Honey, you missed a spot on the tree. By ’spot,’ of course, i mean like 75 percent of the tree. What? No, Daddy can’t help. I’m too busy sitting in this chair and laughing at you. Hey! Hey, if you can put a star on top of the tree without warranting a trip to the hospital, I’ll tell you whether Santa is real or not. Oh screw it, he’s made up. Get me a beer, huh?”

Sorry if I take a dim view of the Christmas spirit. I’m one of those people who thinks How the Grinch Stole Christmas was ruined by the last ten pages.