Word: awkwardnesses
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...pregame warmup, the gangling Negro looked awkward and ill at ease. He pushed his practice shots toward the baskets as if he knew they would miss; he shambled around the floor like a lost kid. But when the whistle blew for the University of San Francisco v. Loyola of the South basketball game in New Orleans last week, San Francisco's big (6 ft. 10 in., 210 lbs.) Center Bill Russell seemed the All-America ace he was cracked up to be. Before he left the game he scored 20 points. On defense he gave Loyola fits. The Southerners...
...still looked awkward, his huge hands dug grounders out of the dirt with flawless ease. Those long arms could whip a ball across the infield too fast for the fastest runner. His lifetime fielding average was .946. At the plate Honus was a serious, spread-legged terror. For 17 consecutive seasons he hit better than .300 for a lifetime average of .329. In each of eight separate seasons he stole more than 40 bases. Before he quit as an active player in 1917, he had set a National League record of 3,430 hits, played in a record...
...ever ridden (some 1,500 mounts this year alone) and that he knows the tricks of every horse that ever finished a race in front of him. Armed with this knowledge, he is a sharp operator in the saddle. He bounces along over his mounts' withers looking as awkward as an apprentice "bug boy," but he wins...
...lank orange hair that hung to her shoulders and a worried little button mouth that made her look like a newborn mouse. She stood stiffly in a corner like a broom somebody had left there, while the other girls smiled and pulled their sweaters down and wondered what the awkward little newcomer was doing in the drama class. When the teacher came in, she asked each girl in turn to say why she wanted to act. "Well, it's better than ballet," one saucy subdeb said, and another replied: "Mother thinks it will give me poise." When the question...
...long and difficult, and the actress found herself braced between fierce tensions. The mood was Tarkington, but it was Proust as well. Frankie was a kind of kitchen Hamlet but a kind of failed Huck Finn besides, and almost more boy than girl. She was the apotheosis of the awkward age, and an ungentle reminder that it may last from 8 to 80. She was, in short, the hurt little truth about growing up, and it was Julie's exquisite problem to make people laugh at her and cry at themselves in the same breath...