On the whole, I love my job writing holiday gift guides. I get to curate beautiful lists designed to help you, the consumer, bring joy to your loved ones. According to data from my affiliate links, you have been receptive to most of my suggestions, from cashmere gloves to fancy olive oil. That’s great and all, but I don’t feel satisfied. When will you slobs get on board and start buying backgammon sets?

A good backgammon set is the perfect gift, which is why they keep showing up on my gift guide lists year after year, no matter how rarely they actually get purchased. As long as the gift recipient has an entire extra room in their house with a game table (preferably hand-carved, and seventy-four centimeters in height) that isn’t occupied by any other objects, then a backgammon set will fit seamlessly into their life. Any reasonable person would be delighted to receive a backgammon set and would surely take the time to learn the rules, find a willing opponent, and set aside weekly, if not daily, time to enjoy this new hobby. The only question is, which color set to buy them…? (The answer is black and teal. Always black and teal.)

You see, my gift lists take into account every type of person: the sartorial expert, the gourmand, the self-care aficionado. Ah, but you’ll notice that only covers three-fourths of the population. According to my research, anyone not in one of those aforementioned categories comprises a group I call “Backgammon Champions in the Making.” If a person’s energy does not immediately call to mind clothes, food, or a satin eye mask, it’s a sure bet they were put on this earth to backgammon. Of this, I am positive. Yet after so many years, I feel like I’m screaming it into a void. I don’t need praise or thanks; I don’t need to be told I’m good at my job. Just buy the damn backgammon set.

Your pattern of reluctance cannot hold; the dam will break at some point. Every year, you read “backgammon set” as one of my lovely gift suggestions, and every year you scroll right past it as if you know better than me. Let’s be clear: you don’t.

I’ve tried to be accommodating. Since a backgammon set is so universally ideal, I figured you had an aversion to the aesthetics of the wooden set I chose. So I got creative: I began suggesting sets in every conceivable material, from stone to leather to mother of pearl. Still—appallingly—no love from you.

Yet I persist in my noble cause. Throughout my career, I’ve recommended sets that come with personalized engravings, travel sets for under one hundred dollars, and sets that use licensed characters from famous movie franchises. No matter what I do, you people refuse to cooperate. Frankly, your ignorance disgusts me.

My editor keeps telling me, “No one actually knows how to play backgammon.” “It’s a relic of a bygone era.” “It’s a bulky gift that’s weirdly expensive.” I see right through him. Surely, he plays in an amateur backgammon league and wants to keep the competition thin. He wouldn’t want a pickleball situation on his hands. I get it (boy, do I get it), but damn, the man knows how to play dirty. Let’s all show him we won’t tolerate his antics and start backgammoning with reckless abandon!

The more backgammon players we produce as a society, the better. Think of all the sadness in the world. It can feel overwhelming if you dwell on it. Now, imagine how newspaper headlines would change if, instead of popping pills and shooting guns, every Average Joe were rolling dice and moving his checkers along the pips of a marble-inlaid backgammon board. I don’t think John Lennon could have imagined it any better.

This holiday season, think of the children. Do you want your kids coming of age in a world where backgammon is just a vague notion crossing into their conscious awareness only when they read holiday gift guides? Or do you want them to know the unfettered joy of rolling a double and bearing off? So put your money where your mouth is, asshole.

Consider this my final plea. I’m done trying to reason with you stooges. If backgammon sets aren’t flying off the proverbial shelves this holiday season, I’ll refocus my efforts on rehabilitating the reputation of the (necessary though tragically underappreciated) giant tic-tac-toe set.