Clearly upset that the Adams State Grizzlies had scored another touchdown and were starting to rub it in, Art Abreu, a tight-ends coach and play-by-play sportscaster for the Highlands Cowboys, asked on the air why such demonstrations are tolerated.
Abreu made a brilliant point: If running backs or receivers who score can perform excessive in-your-face end zone dances, why doesn’t the quarterback who threw or handed off the ball join in a little dance?
Why don’t the centers, guards and tackles, who block for the fellow who scored do the same?
There’s a sequence in the new movie, “Coach Carter,” in which the high school basketball team he coaches becomes overly demonstrative each time there’s a good play. The players high-five one another and perform all kinds of taunting, show-boating techniques, all of which say, “I did it. That was my basket.”
During practice, Coach Carter, played by Samuel L. Jackson, points out the absurdity of self-praise when he stops to lace his shoes and rhapsodizes about such an act. “Isn’t that a beautiful bow? I tied it all by myself.”
Now realistically, it’s hard to blame youngsters for feeling some exuberance: a touchdown, a homerun or a three-pointer is an accomplishment not everyone is familiar with.
Yet, Abreu is correct in criticizing the I-did-it-all-by-myself aggrandizement (he calls it “hot-dogging”), and we trust he’d be just as critical if the Cowboys themselves were performing the end zone festivities. Abreu said that toward the end of last football season, something like that happened: a Cowboy was flagged twice for excessive endzone demonstrations. “It may have cost us the game,” he said.
As for having tackles, ends, centers and guards celebrating in the end zone, that would be bad, as it would then become a line dance, which is best left for cheerleaders and members of the school pep squad.
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At least once each morning, radio listeners hear from a kid who tells us, “Last night I got sick, and my parents took me to QuickCare.” She cutes us to death as she explains that she “didn’t even cry.” But at the end of the commercial she admits having cried a little. “After all, I’m just a kid,” she tells us.
Cuteness aside, this kid has been saying the same thing for months. Someone who gets sick every week night is costing her parents a fortune in co-pays. The nightly shots must make her arms quite porous. But more important, she needs a primary care physician who can give her a thorough workup to keep her from getting sick every single night.
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A few months ago I listened to a presentation by students representing a number of high schools in the Santa Fe-San Miguel County area. While much of the information was right on, several of us noticed almost a penchant for being inarticulate. Several students, some of whom read from prepared scripts, slurred and elided several sounds; they failed to include inflectional endings, with the result that “licenses” became “license,” and “tomorrow” became “tomor.”
I talked to a participant later, who explained that most of the students simply pick up what they hear, and repeat it. That’s a fair enough explanation, but he added that “It’s not cool to be too clear.”
Geez. A few years ago I attended a holiday presentation at Mike Mateo Elementary School in Sapello. The kindergarten class stood front and center, not fidgeting, not daydreaming. After their customary yuletide carol, the teacher caught all of them by surprise by asking each one what he or she planned to do in life.
In order, every kindergartener took the mike, looked at the audience, projected, and articulated some quite coherent statements. Now if kids not yet in first grade can do that, why can’t older people attempt to be clear?
The kindergarten teacher, by the way, is Bernice Martinez, herself the daughter of retired teachers.
Wouldn’t it be great if every teacher stressed diction and articulation the way Bernice Martinez does?
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A recent column on uniqueness got some reaction to the question of which of two grammatical constructions was correct. I used the expression “‘quality’ is one of those words which don’t necessarily denote goodness.” And the question was whether “don’t” or “doesn’t” is correct.
I received four emails and two phone calls on that question, with four of the six agreeing that “don’t” is correct. I especially appreciated the one caller who said she chose “don’t” because I had used it, and “you don’t make grammatical mistakes.”
Oh, but I do. Sometimes I make the errors for effect, or to prove a point.
Alfonso Archuleta, voting for “don’t,” emailed to explain why: “I would defend your usage of ‘don’t’ since the antecedent is logically ‘words’ — the last mentioned — rather than ‘quality.’”
Another way to check the correctness is simply to reverse the order of the words, this way: “Of the words which (don’t/doesn’t) necessarily denote goodness, ‘quality’ is one.” Finally, in one of many columns on the unpredictability of the English language, I said the word “ghoti” can be pronounced “fish.” One reader asked whether a ghoti is a fish. It’s not: He must have been thinking of flounder or halibut.
Here’s how “ghoti” can be pronounced “fish’:
The “gh” in “cough” sounds like “f.”
The “o” in “women” sounds like “i.”
The “ti” in “nation” sounds like “sh.”
And now, how can “phtholognyrr” be pronounced “turner”?
Alfonso Archuleta, can you field this one?