My dad is the hardest person in the world to buy for.

Oh, I know your dad is hard to buy for, too, but don’t waste your time engaging me in some silly game of paternal one-upmanship. OK, maybe your dad could beat up my dad with one hand tied behind his back. I’ll give you that. (I mean, the man is 75 and had disc surgery this winter.) But, in spite of his slightly compromised lumbar region, my dad holds the undisputed title of “Most difficult man in the universe to purchase a present for.”

Hands down. End of story. I win.

My father is a textbook example of a guy who has everything. Not “everything” as in “everything under the sun,” but everything he could ever want or need. Unlike my mom, Dad isn’t the type to sit around thinking, “I could really use a new pair of hedge clippers. Hey! Father’s Day is coming in a few weeks. I think I’ll drop a big hint so the kids know what to get me.” He simply goes out and buys the clippers he wants. A man of action, that’s my pop.

It’s been driving me crazy for more than 40 years.

My quest for the perfect Father’s Day gift started when I was 6 or 7 years old. With several weeks’ allowance in my pockets, I scoured the aisles of Bruce Smith Drugs until I found the ultimate symbol of my undying love and fervent admiration: soap on a rope. But this wasn’t just ANY soap on a rope. This was an Old Spice soap on a rope GIFT SET! Opening my present that Father’s Day morning, Dad acted so delighted, so absolutely thrilled over that soap on a rope, he unwittingly guaranteed himself five more years of gift-wrapped toiletries in red, nautical packaging.

Old Spice became my first Father’s Day fallback plan. But I would need others.

It was made clear to me at an early age that Dad preferred to pick out his own ties. I don’t recall if the edict was issued immediately after I presented him with that groovy, circa 1968, paisley number in Day-Glo colors, but the message was clear: Ties and children don’t mix. Or match.

After that, I turned to golf paraphernalia, Father’s Day Fallback Plan No. 2.

Dad was a golfer. Still is. Fortunately for us kids, he was never a very GOOD golfer. He could hit it a mile but was constantly fighting a mean hook or nasty slice and, therefore, always needed new golf balls. I did the math and figured out that, over the years, if you count Father’s Day, Christmas and birthdays, my four siblings and I have presented our father with approximately 5,642 golf balls. He’s lost every one of them.

As the years passed, golf paraphernalia and Old Spice bath products just didn’t cut it for the Man Who Had Everything. So I resorted to Father’s Day Fallback Plan No. 3, the mother lode of gift ideas: officially licensed Kansas University merchandise.

Thanks to the seemingly endless imaginations of collegiate licensees, my Dad owns a collection of stadium blankets, antenna flags, polo shirts, golf club covers, house banners, boxer shorts, pajama pants, shot glasses, license-plate frames, garden stones, coffee mugs, framed prints, cuff links, umbrellas, beer steins, windbreakers, cocktail napkins, figurines, wine glasses … all emblazoned, embossed, engraved, embroidered, appliqued, etched, hand-painted or stamped with a university seal or smiling Jayhawk logo.

(I’d include dozens of Jayhawk golf balls, but he lost those, too.)

This year, however, even the KU merchandise well seemed to be running dry. Scouring the Internet for newly licensed items my Dad doesn’t already own, my two choices were Jayhawk auto headrest covers or KU Crocs in red or royal blue.

Dad isn’t keen on gaudy car accessories and, try as I might, I can’t picture the guy walking around in bright red Crocs, with or without his white crew socks.

So what is my Father’s Day fallback plan this year? Well, there’s a new KU book that Dad hopefully hasn’t read, and I’m throwing in a dozen golf balls for good measure.

But here’s a tip to all the officially licensed collegiate merchandise manufacturers out there: You could clean up – and clean up big – if you came out with a Jayhawk soap on a rope.