OCR Text |
Show 85, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] The non-semantics of sports dialogue. "Seriously that hitter is your brother?" "Yeah the pick of the litter." There are thoroughbred horses like me, Dorian realized. Blooded, full-brother to a champion, you check the chart on their maiden race to the first turn-refused. "Well damn, you see we're having this game, fuzz-faculty game it's called--" "Which team do the kids want to see get mugged more?" "And we're counting on you to--" "I'll play." The teachers were looking unlikely and small in full dress. Like museum knights. An assistant coach admonished, "Clayton, you're clowning. You got those shoulder pads on backwards." "I'm sorry, I didn't know--" "You're putting us on, boy." "Actually I never played any organized--" "Tell the truth, boy." "What's the little round cushion?" "Je-sus! Goes in your crown of your helmet!" |