Word: flickerer
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...prowl is grace itself. He flows down the court, head bobbing, shoulders feinting, every part of his body blended into one rhythmical pattern of deception. At his side, controlled by a sensitive hand, bounces a basketball that seems to accompany him like an old and trusted friend. For the flicker of a second, a Royal breaks loose, and in that instant Robertson hits him with a pass. Says Robertson of the art of passing: "Throw it as close to your man's head as you can. It'll get by-he'll have to blink...
However accurate his guess, Hall keeps his eyes focused on the puck, never tries the controversial trick of watching a shooter's eyes for the flicker that tips off the direction of the shot. To shove him self quickly around the cage, Hall pulls on the goal posts or the bar across the top of the net. When a shot actually comes, Hall has no time to think. He picks off the puck with anything handy-his padded chest, a skate, his flat, stubby stick or his huge left mitt. Says he: "Afterwards you have time to figure...
...about 7 yds. away from the man he intends to cover, always shading to one side so that the receiver will have only one clear path. At the snap of the ball, the two men start a routine as formal yet as frantic as a minuet in oldtime flicker films. Running backward all the while, Patton must counter the receiver's maneuvers without falling for a fake. To avoid head, arm and hip fakes. Patton watches a spot roughly in the vicinity of the receiver's wishbone, on the sound theory that it will turn when the receiver...
...humiliating, sixth-place finishes in both the 100 and 200 meters. Running the second leg, Norton was so anxious to get going that he sprinted right out of the exchange zone before he got the baton. Duke's Dave Sime, the U.S. anchorman, later finished first by a flicker, but Norton's foul disqualified the U.S. team, gave the gold medal to Germany. "I'm sick up to here with running," said Norton, pre-Olympic favorite to win three gold medals. "When I get back home, I'm not going to move faster than a slow...
...race was a six-day nightmare of groping through fog, hunting for the flicker of a breeze, and battling howling gales of 60 knots that heeled over the big ocean racers, ripped sails, snapped rudders, and forced sailors to lash themselves to their craft. But fair weather or foul, the short, stubby yawl out of Annapolis was the master of the Atlantic, clipping off miles with the regularity of an ocean liner. When the fleet of 135 boats finished the 635-mile thrash from Newport to Bermuda last week, the overall winner, for an unprecedented third straight time, was Finisterre...