That advice from the Tim McGraw song "Live Like You Were Dying"?

Take it from a guy who really is dying: Don't believe it.

"I'm sure not going to ride a bull named Fu Man Chu or go skydiving," Eric Knapp was saying yesterday.

The man has too much to do in the precious few days he has left.

Would you believe hosting the ultimate going-away party?

More than 400 golfers are playing in a hastily arranged two-day charity event this weekend at Knapp's Pheasant Ridge Golf Club in Gibsonia. It's a great way to raise money -- as much as $30,000, Knapp hopes -- for the Hillman Cancer Center in Shadyside, where Knapp has been receiving treatments since he was diagnosed with throat cancer in August 2005. But it's also a chance for Knapp to say goodbye one final time to a lot of his dearest friends. On June 3, his teary-eyed doctor told Knapp that he should start thinking in terms of weeks, not months. Knapp's tumors are so big and growing so fast that he has trouble swallowing his pain medication and eating anything more than soft food. And the worst is coming. Soon.

"I'm afraid of what's ahead, but I'm not afraid of what's on the other side," Knapp said. "I have a peace based on the faith that I have. I'm comfortable with my eternal destiny. ...

"I don't know when I'm going to go from living to just existing to dying. All I can tell you is I'm going to try to live for as long as I can."

Those who know Knapp, 47, will tell you they aren't surprised he's not sitting around feeling sorry for himself. They say he has always been a bundle of energy. It's why he was able to buy the Sandy Hill Golf Course 10 years ago -- "nine pastures with nine holes in the ground," Knapp described it -- and turn it into a showcase, 18-hole public course.

But this latest Knapp project might be his most remarkable. He had planned a customer-appreciation golf outing for later this summer but decided to move it up after getting the bad medical news. "You had better act quickly when they tell you all they can do for you is help you with your pain and try to make you comfortable." From his sick bed, Knapp lined up sponsors and glad-handed donations. The proceeds he has generated in less than two weeks will buy laptop computers for the waiting area at Hillman.

Anybody who goes to a doctor for even a routine check-up can appreciate that.

"You go and there's a 9-month-old Time, a 12-month-old Sports Illustrated and an 8-month-old Star on the tables," Knapp said. "There's nothing constructive to do while you're there, which sometimes can be for hours. That's not just true for the patients. It's true for the people who bring the patients. These computers will give them something purposeful to do."

The charity event has been a nice diversion for Knapp, who admits to going home some nights and "bawling my eyes out with my dog in my arms." A quick vacation to Ocean City, Md., in the next week or two will help. Knapp also is talking about going to California to play Pebble Beach with good pal Joe Ecker from the North Hills. Please forgive the poor choice of words, but that would be like dying and going to heaven for a golfer. Knapp thought he had done it all last year when he and his two brothers, Harry and Curt, were able to play at storied Oakmont not long after Eric was told the cancer had spread to his lungs.

"Kind of an adult Make-A-Wish thing," Eric said.

Hey, it beats riding Fu Man Chu.

"For three years, I've had to deal with the prospect of dying," Knapp said. "Now, I'm trying to deal with the reality of it. I can tell you that's a lot harder."

You don't have to ask Knapp what he's going to miss the most. Not today, Father's Day, of all days. That became clear when his son, Christian, 14 next month, sat down next to him just about the time he was talking about his tumors eventually starving him to death. It was the only time he teared up, at least until he started saying all of those goodbyes later in the day. The man talks so matter-of-factly about cancer and death -- at one point, while playing a few holes with friends, he noted that someone stole his driver and joked, "Considering my situation, it probably wouldn't be too smart to buy a new one" -- but he clearly is emotional when it comes to his family and friends. He said he was a puddle last week when his college roommate at Rutgers, Jesse Pike, came in from Jersey to see him one last time. "It's just not normal for two 47-year-old men to say goodbye like that," he said.

But back to Christian.

"I'm going to miss being in the stands at his hockey games, giving him the thumbs up when he's between the pipes," Knapp said.

There are two other children, Eric Jr., 18 next week, and Brittany, 20 next month. There is a devoted girlfriend, Sarah Trostle. "Her family has adopted me," Knapp said. There is a mother, Janet, who is facing the worst nightmare any parent can have. "I'm really having a hard time coming to grips with her having to bury me," Knapp said. And there is the dog, Sandy. Is there anyone more loyal in a person's life? "He's been by my side, literally, 24/7," Knapp said, pulling out his cell phone to show off pictures of the dog, cradled against Knapp's neck in his bed when the drugs made him too sick to get up. "I keep thinking about him waiting outside my house for me to come home -- and no one is coming home."

There still are a few more things Knapp wants to do before that time comes. One is to take Christian to Kennywood Park this week.

"Will you ride the Skycoaster with me, Dad?" the boy asked.

"Sure, we can do that," Knapp said.

Maybe the song had it right after all.

"You know, Dad," Christian said, "that is a little like skydiving."