Everybody loves Jay

April 24, 2005

J's World/Jeremiah Bartz

Some people may think I watch too much T.V. When Sports Center or the World Poker Tour is not on the tube, whether I like to admit it or not, I find myself watching sitcoms.

Judging by the Nielsen ratings, I am not alone.

Those who have a regular series or set of shows often find themselves relating to the characters. They see themselves in the same situations. They see their friends have the same idiotic tendencies.

I am no different.

I can relate to a few shows, a few characters.

There are days when all I wish to be is Norm from "Cheers." Sometimes I feel like Hank Hill, I'll tell you what. And I have more than my share of Homer Simpson moments. Doh!

But most of all, I find myself drawing too many comparisons to Ray Barone on Everybody Loves Raymond.

Like Ray, I'm a sports writer and columnist.

Like Ray, I have a daughter named Alyson.

Like Ray, I'm, at least part, Italian.

And also like Ray, I somehow find the wrong things to say at the wrong times.

Just ask my fiancée Amber.

Eerie huh?

For someone who gets paid to put their thoughts, feelings and observations into words, Ray seems to know exactly what to say at precisely the wrong time. I have more than my share of Ray Barone moments.

There is a case it may be just an epidemic of our gender. The male sense of humor and tendencies sometimes make for a poor track record. When we do find ourselves in trouble - usually after adding Molson to the grocery list, being late for dinner because of hitting one more bucket of golf balls or playing poker against our Valley Life editor, Casey Ressler, over the Internet until 1 a.m. - men like Ray and I usually try to use our language, primarily made up of a poorly timed sense of humor, to get out of the sticky situation. Sometimes it works, but usually it leads to another trip to the Fred Meyer floral department.

But maybe some of these problems, and the expense of buying flowers, can be avoided if women begin to learn the male language? It may help a spouse understand why her sports-minded male says what he says, and does what he does.

And no, the problem is not fixed if women learn to speak idiot.

Learn to speak sports.

Sport is a fairly new language developed by generations of armchair quarterbacks and double-par golfers. It's often colorful and relies much too heavily on cliché. Important conversations are centered around the return of the 3-4 defense to football or how to properly position the charcoal briquettes in a BBQ.

Our language's vocabulary is primarily made up of words found in Sports Illustrated. It describes how we, "come up big in the other guy's building," - which loosely translates to leaving the Fifth Avenue Mall in less than five hours or finding another guy to talk about sports with at a little kids birthday party.

It also shows how we, "thanks to God-given ability, were able to give 110 percent," - which means we mowed the lawn and raked the leaves in just enough time left to catch the last six innings of the Cubs game. And it also tells how we, "sacrificed everything in favor of the team," - which, as Ressler will attest, means telling your wife you are going to go cover a game with the sports editor but instead go to Hooters to watch the Michigan State game.

Maybe it would be best if women didn't understand our language? Buying flowers regularly could continue to be expensive. But secret trips to Hooters and shaving things off the honey-do list is priceless.

So when men like me sit down at night to watch television and characters like Ray trying to pull the same tricks off, it is somewhat reassuring. It's nice to think I am not alone. At least I can try to learn from his mistakes. But, even seeing Ray suffer the consequence probably won't stop Jay from trying to squeeze in a few extra holes of golf or sneaking away on another Friday night to play poker.

With the series finale of "Everybody Loves Raymond" airing soon, Frontiersman sports editor Jeremiah Bartz is pitching CBS an idea for a new show, "Everybody Loves Jay."