Word: centurions
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...down, and Fred Lynn approaches the plate. Lynn has the prettiest swing in baseball and a grace in centerfield that evokes DiMaggio, at least for those who remember that inspired Yankee Centurion. It's hard to capture the feeling of exaltation a player like Lynn can create, how he can--man versus ball--extend the horizons of human potential, at least during the brief span of a game. Lynn spent most of the year in pursuit of the Triple Crown, and he's a fair bet for the Most Valuable Player award, though it might go to either Ken Singleton...
...fortnightly newspaper for homosexuals, and Denis Lemon, 32, editor of the periodical, who came to court with a button saying GAY NEWS FIGHTS ON in the lapel of his conservative three-piece gray suit. The offense: publishing a poem by James Kirkup, in which a Roman centurion describes his sexual relations with the body of the crucified Christ. Prosecutor John J. Smyth called the verses "so vile that it would be hard for even the most perverted imagination to conjure up anything worse...
...woman's journey toward a sensual awakening, but Alvarez's small repertoire of narrative gestures is inadequate to create an interesting, surface, let alone psychological depth. Julie is a "waiflike" creature whose husband, despite his stuffiness, manages to have a sensuality "as massive and crushing as a Centurion tank." As the story begins, she is tolerating a routine of more-or-less intermittent rape; soon she is submitting a bit more cheerfully to one of her husband's students, Sam; by the end of the book she has left both of them in favor of a muscular blond Teuton...
...place, the closest we reached to Damascus, we overcame the enemy. We have no illusions, but we hope that by handing it over we bring peace closer. We leave here with pride. If there is need, we will return." With that a parade of armored personnel carriers, Jeeps and Centurion tanks headed down the hill, leaving behind only smashed bunkers, broken cartridge boxes and garbage. The last tank to leave was numbered 141. In October it had been the first to reach the summit of the hill...
Further south we came upon a row of Israeli Centurion tanks and one muddied Ford station wagon. A bald, roly-poly civilian, incongruously wearing a white shirt and dark trousers, was distributing egg sandwiches and cold drinks. He was a construction contractor from a town near Nazareth, too old to fight in the war. Every day he packed his station wagon with sandwiches and ten-gallon containers of soft drinks and drove to the front. Whenever he found a unit, he stopped and distributed his refreshments...