I’m sick of Dave Barry! It’s Dave damn Barry this, and Dave that. Every female
I know says, “Oh, I just love Dave…” They don’t know Dave.
Maybe Dave has a vodka problem. Maybe Dave’s a transvestite. Now, Dave’s
written another book, precipitating another Davefest. It’s about “guys.” From
what I can tell, Dave’s a happily married “guy” with a kid, a home in the
suburbs, and a golden retriever puppy. He’s Ozzie Nelson with a job. He’s Mike
Brady with a career change. He’s Homer Simpson with sophistication. Do you
really think I’m jealous, just because women throw themselves upon his
sensitive foot? Think I care he’s recognized everywhere he goes, gets free
dinners, good tickets to Heat games, and has women? Oh, I said that…. Well,
anyway, maybe I am a tad envious. The bastard wrote my book! What does he know about “guys” anyway? His guys are married, middle-aged
country club “guys” who, occasionally, leave a sock around; perhaps a single
pubic hair on the rim of the toilet. What’s he know about life out in the
jungle?? What’s he know about moody answering machines always stuck on the
malevolent red zero? What’s he know about buying cartons of Chung King
microwaveable Beef and Broccoli (no msg!) for another solitary meal? What’s he
know about sleeping with two smelly, flea-bitten boxers, and, God help me,
starting to like it? Guys, huh!!Here’s a story from my guy
book.
As a guy “between relationships,” as it were, I’m compelled, from time to
time, to practice my social skills on the remote chance I’ll need them again. A
few weeks ago, I asked my friend Nanci to join me for a sophisticated dinner.
I’ve known Nanci for many years. I once had a breathtaking crush on her –
dreams, fantasies, picket fences, the whole lurid kaleidoscope of neurotic Andy
fantasies. Then, with nary a thought toward me, she got married. I’m reduced,
pathetically, to pretending Nanci is a real date, a situation more than a
little ironic and one, I doubt, Dave often finds himself in – working on table
manners; small talk; listening attentively; opening doors; being witty,
charming, and urbane. Yes, we did it all, French Champagne, a Cuban cigar, a
babe in my new convertible. Nanci was pleased to work with me on this. As a
securely married woman, she fancied the idea of being a “pretend date.”
Just last night, I asked a friend to meet me at Antone’s, this time to
rehearse the subtleties of conversing with a female in a loud bar (whispering
in her ear without breaking her eardrums a possible – with a real date, a
prelude to foreplay), staying up past 10:30pm, drinking without burping, and
dancing. Since I’d die before actually asking a strange woman to dance, and
dates are few and far between, this practice, although somewhat parasitic, is
absolutely necessary if I’m to appear cool when Princess Perfect appears. While
I’m rehearsing at Antone’s, Dave Barry is, I’m certain, at the Miami Beach
B’nai B’rith club,accepting The Most Wonderful Guy in the World award. I guess you could say I’ve had ample time to watch hoops. Some random
observations on the playoffs: I wasn’t surprised to see Seattle lose, but I was
surprised to see them go out so easily. It’s management’s job to put the talent
on the floor. It’s the coach’s job to find a way for it to succeed. George Karl
will be the first NBA coach fired this year. The luckiest team is Nanci’s – she’s even a sportsfan! – Suns. They are
racking up gaudy playoff numbers, winning each game by over 15 points. They
played an over-matched Portland and a proud but decimated Rocket team. The
Sun-Spur final will be great theatre. Spurs in 7.
In addition to the perception that Jordan is a step slower is my distinct
impression that he’s not having much fun. I don’t understand this. Avoiding the
grinding regular season to play only in the playoffs was M.J.’s dream. Yet he
never smiles, and appears perpetually perplexed. A person of a more
psychological bent might question his negative body language. It’s like he’s
frozen in frustration over being human, after all. Instead of competing against
the other team, he seems stuck in a painful-to-watch competition against a
younger Michael, a game even he can’t win. If N.Y. and Chicago both lose in the
second round – a distinct possibility – it will signal a true changing of the
guard in the East. Chicago and N.Y. have dominated the division for the past
decade
The Orlando Magic are at a delicate stage in team development. With Shaq,
Hardaway, and Grant, the Magic are the only team poised on the precipice of a
Laker/Piston/Celtic/Bull-style ravaging of the league. It’s delicate because it
can all fall apart if the front office doesn’t make the right moves. Like
Chicago in 1989, Orlando must make the correct peripheral moves to make their
team unbeatable for the next five years. This means surrounding Shaq with
spot-up jump shooters, who will bury open jump shots, and picking up one more
guy – Anthony Mason comes to mind – with an attitude. Drafting O’Neal
and Hardaway were luck, true no-brainers. Let’s watch if Orlando’s front office
makes the correct moves to assure the Magic’s place in NBA lore.
Talk to me on-line: coach36@aol.com
This article appears in May 19 • 1995 and May 19 • 1995 (Cover).