III. Post-reading

3.1. Feelings.

According to the story, the Ball must've been enjoying the game pretty much. Using the verbs you've discovered while doing Task 2.8, speak about the feelings of this hard-beaten character.

3.2. Project work: my soccer team of all time.

Explore the history of soccer. Prepare a list of 11 players who are your very own best players of all time.

Make a presentation in class.

P.S. If the idea of soccer does not appeal to you, make up a team of eleven greatest athletes of all time.

YANKEE DOODLE SHORTSTOP

by H.J. Hinterberg

I. Pre-reading

1.1. SHARE your experiences of how sport helped you to build character.

1.2. DISCUSS the problem of babysitting. What do you think it is — a game or sport?

1.3. FIND OUT as many facts as you possibly can about that all-American game, baseball.

II. Reading

2.1. Understanding the title.

The title of the story really makes you stop short thinking about the meaning. Do you realize that there is an allusion there? If you do, say what sort of allusion is that. If you don't, run to Home Base (Exercise 3.15).

2.2. Reading for pleasure and enrichment.

Read the story and answer the question: Did the song make any difference to the girls' performance?

The following words will be helpful to understand the events better.

Inhale — breathe something in

Rattle — produce a sound

Pitch – throw, as in baseball

Cubbyhole — a very small room

Shortstop — in baseball, a position occupied by an infielder

Flunk — fail, not manage to do something

Foil — a weapon used in fencing

Crouch — bend your knees and lean forward a bit

I hate baseball.

"You love baseball."

Meg sighed. "I love it and I hate it, I guess."

Her mother was spooning strained peas into Meg's baby brother, Charles. "Don't worry, honey. It'll work but. You made the team."

Meg traced a pattern on the tablecloth with her finger. "What's the point anyway? Girls can't play in the major leagues. Might as well give it up now before I waste any more time."

Mrs. O'Malley sat down at the table and met Meg's unhappy gaze. "I know there's no professional baseball for women, honey. I knew it when I was your age. I played anyway. I loved it."

Meg smiled for the first time that day. "You still play."

"You bet I do. I'm the best darn player in the coed, over-35 league. I carry my team. And I still love it. Now, do me a favor and sing "Yankee Doodle" to your brother. It'll get your mind off your problems and it'll get more peas into Charles."

Charles was thirteen months old."Yuckee Doodoo" was his favorite song. It always cheered him up. Meg had sung it to him so many times that singing it was as easy as breathing. Launching into it now put a wet grin on Charles's face, but it didn't keep Meg from thinking about baseball.

If she didn't love it so much, she would walk away from it without a backward glance. But she loved every single thing about it, from the uniforms that never fit quite right, to the mouthful of dust she inhaled every time she slid into a base, from the painful sting in her hand when a line drive slammed into her glove, to the fierce jolt that leaped up her arm when she hit a ball hard.

She loved all that. But she hated being the first girl to play for the Rutledge Falcons and she hated being the worst player on the team. She had made the team all right, but if she wanted to accepted as a Falcon, she was going to have to go from worst player to best player in a very big hurry.

The next day, as she took up her position at shortstop, she glanced over at Jamie Ferguson on first base. He didn't smile but he gave her a quick thumbs-up. Jamie was the best player they had. A natural, Coach Russell said. Pressure never rattled Jamie. The coach said there were two kinds of champions: the ones who never felt the pressure and the ones who figured out how to deal with it. Jamie was the first kind. Meg was trying hard to be the second.

She took a deep breath and reviewed her stance. Toes slightly out, knees slightly bent. Weight on the balls of the feet. Hands down, glove facing the batter. Rock forward slightly on each pitch.

The first pitch sped toward home plate. Meg rocked forward and tried to remember what to do. A part of her mind registered the whang of the bat hitting the ball. As the batter sprinted for first base, the ball rocketed toward her. It was to her left, but before she even began to move, the ball sped by her into center field. Runner on third base. Error to the shortstop.

I'll do better at bat, Meg thought. I'll get a hit.

But it didn't work out that way. She didn't get a hit all day. She struck out twice, popped out once, and was thrown out on a weak grounder. And she made another error in the field. Coach Russell wanted to see her after the game.

He sat behind his desk in his cubbyhole of an office, a kind-faced man with spiky hair the exact color of the infield dirt. Right now the expression on his face was uhreadable.

"Tough day, Meg," he said quietly as he marked a chart with a stubby pencil. He looked up at her as she stood nervously holding her Falcons cap in front of her like a shield. "This isn't life or death, you know," he went on. "It's just a game and it's supposed to be fun. But I've got to tell you, some of the kids who saw you play the way you did today will think they should be on the team instead of you."

Meg stood silent, miserable.

"You know why I picked you for the team, Meg?" She shook her head. "Because you have good skills and natural talent. You're a hard worker and you know the game. You love the game. I'm on your side. I've got two daughters younger than you. I think it would be great if you could be a trailblazer so they could play without all 'this fuss about being a girl." He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. "I've got no choice here, Meg. If you don't improve in the next couple of games, I'll have to find a new shortstop."

There was nothing to say. She turned to go, unshed tears burning her eyes.

"Meg!"

She couldn't turn around and let him see her tear-bright eyes, but she stood still to listen, her damp hand clutching the doorknob.

"I just want you to know I think you've got more talent than any other player on the team. I'm just an electrician who likes coaching baseball, but that's what I think."

She nodded and went out. It was the longest conversation she'd ever had with Coach Russell, and she hadn't said a word.

Her mother wasn't much help. She had been the Jamie Ferguson kind of champion, the kind who never feels the pressure. "You can't let it get to you, Meggie," she said. "You try too hard. Just relax more and have some fun."

She was having misery. She was having panic. She was definitely not having fun.

In the living room Meg found her dad trying to get Charles put a puzzle together. Charles was grunting. That meant he'd be crying in a minute.

"Sing 'Yuckee Doodoo,'" Meg suggested.

"Huh?" Her dad gave her a blank look.

Meg sang. Charles grinned and fit a puzzle piece into its slot.

"Dad?"

"Mmm?"

"Ever play any baseball?"

He laughed. "Nope. Your mom's the athlete in the family. But I'll tell you a deep, dark secret if you promise not to laugh."

"Promise."

"When I was in college, you had to have some physic education credits. You could take anything you wanted, I took fencing."

"You're kidding. You mean you wore those white ninja outfits and fought with swords?" "Foils, actually, but, yeah, that's the idea. The whole thing appealed to my romantic nature. I was crazy about it. The problem was that I was so bad, I was on the verge of flunking."

"So did you flunk?"

"No. My instructor was terrified that if he flunked me, he'd just be stuck with me again the next semester. So he gave me some advice. He said when he was learning, he used to sing the French national anthem to himself. It helped him forget all the rules and procedures and just fence."

"Did it work?"

"Not his song. I used "Jabberwocky.""

He jumped up and waved an imaginary foil.

"'Twas brillig' — thrust — 'and the slithy toves'—thrust — 'did gyre' — thrust — 'and gimble' — thrust — 'in the wabe.'" Thrust, flourish..

He stopped and grinned down at Meg. "It actually helped. I wound up with a C, and my poor instructor never had to deal with me again."

Meg considered. "I see your point. I get tangled up worrying about technique. But I don't know 'Jabberwocky.'"

"No problem. What do you know inside out so you don't have to think about it?"

Meg looked at Charles. "Yuckee Doodoo."

She was in her shortstop's crouch and she was singing. "Yankee Doodle went to town, a-riding on a pony, stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni. Yankee Doodle, keep it up—"

Whap! The bat slapped the ball hard. "Yankee Doodle dandy—"

Bang! The ball slammed into Meg's glove. "Mind the music and the step—"

She hauled the ball out of her glove and hurled it to first base. "And with the girls be handy!"

The batter was trotting back to the dugout. Out at first. By a mile.

Jamie Ferguson glanced over and gave her a thumbs-up. Coach Russell was smiling. Meg started in on the second verse as the next batter stepped up to the plate.

2.3. True or false?

The girl was on the team because...

1. she was the only female player in the league.

2. her mother had played baseball professionally.

3. she was in love with the ball, the field, and the trainer.

4. everyone thought her to be a real Falcon.

5. coach Russell simply had a soft heart.

6. coach Russell wanted his own daughters to play, too.

7. she had more talent than any other player,

8. Jamie Ferguson said she was a natural, just like him.

9. her father had taught her a trick or two.

10. Yankee Doodle was her magic talisman of a song.

2.4. Understanding points of view.

Explain what the characters meant.

Mother: "I carry my team."

Charles: "Yakee Doodoo."

Meg: "I love it (baseball) and I hate it."

Charles: "Yakee Doodoo."

Coach Russell: "Tough day, Meg. This isn't life of death, you know."

Charles: "Yakee YakeeDoodooooooo."

Meg's father: "The whole thing appealed to my romantic nature."

Charles: "Yakee Yakee Yakee Dooooooooooodoo."

2.5. Vocabulary.

Choose the correct interpretation of the expressions in bold type.

To make the team means

• to create a tough group of athletes

• to be the best on the team

• to make the team understand who's the boss

• to become member of the team

To carry the team means

• to lead the team to some place

• to feel responsible for the results

• to be the most valuable player of the team

• to motivate the team to play better

To be a natural means

• to be born in the USA

• to be born outside the USA

• to be a born athlete

• to be a person of ancient views

To be a trailblazer means

• to travel lazily around in a trailer

• to drive a bulldozer wearing a blazer

• to daze gazers who come to watch

• to amaze other by being the first to do something

To know inside out means

• to know which side is which

• to be able to reproduce at sight

• to know by heart and even better

• to know someone who stays outside

2.6. Storing vocabulary.

Scan the story searching for the words that describe the game of baseball. Arrange the words you've found in three groups..

Equipment	Rules	Actions
a bat	a diamond = a field	to pitch

2.7. Carrollean English in focus.

Here is an excerpt from Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll. Alice meets Humpty Dumpty and what she learns from him is very curious. '"You seem to be very clever at explaining words, Sir,' said Alice. 'Would you kindly tell me the meaning of the poem "Jabberwocky"?'

"Let's hear it,' said Humpty Dumpty. 'I can explain all the poems that ever were invented - and a good many that haven't been invented just yet.'

This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse:

"'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Dis gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe."

'That's enough to begin with,' Humpty Dumpty interrupted: 'there are plenty of hard words there. "Brillig" means four o'clock in the afternoon — the time when you begin broiling things for dinner.'

'That'll do very well,' said Alice: 'and "slithy"?' 'Well, "slithy" means "lithe and slimy." "Lithe" is the same as "active." You see it's like a portmanteau — there are two meanings packed up into one word.'"

2.8. Portmanteau word-building.

Now that you've remembered what portmanteau words are like, it is about time (yes, you guessed it right) to practise weird word-building. Make strange words related to school environment.

For instance, your teacher's first question after vacation time, when you are gloomy at the prospect of a new semester to start, can be the following:

"Well, then, did you have holidays or melancholidays?"

1. Melancholidays = melancholy + holidays

2.

3.

4.

5.