Word: underhanded
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Behind the Plate. As a string-straight teen-ager refugee from a shoe factory, Connie learned his trade in a day when pitchers lobbed the ball underhand and catchers grabbed it on the first bounce some 15 ft. back of the plate. It was all too soft for Connie. His only equipment a fingerless kid glove, Connie walked out to the mound one day and told his pitcher to fire the ball overhand. The unexpected stunt almost started a riot among the fans, but the style stuck...
Along with its taming of an oaf, Bus Stop chronicles the far more offhand and slightly more underhand amour of the proprietress and the bus driver (Elaine Stritch and Patrick McVey), records the spoutings, slitherings and slumbers of a drunken professor (Anthony Ross). There is also the wide-eyed high-school girl who finds the professor wonderful, there is an unrambunctious cowboy with a guitar, and there is a local sheriff who perhaps stands for law and order in the world as well as on Main Street. In a beautifully paced and harmonized production, every part is well played...
...field it cleanly. It went as an error. Ned Felton, batting for Don Butters, forced Cleary at second, and after George Anderson looked at a third strike, George MacDonald ended it all with a skow roller down the third baseline, which third baseman Tom Yasenki charged and flipped underhand to first to nip him by a step...
...Choongs taught themselves a choppy, aggressive game. Without teachers, they developed a repertory of overhand, underhand and backhand shots, some of them highly unorthodox by Western standards. Says David: "We'll try any thing." Together, the Choongs went to London in 1950 to study law. But they seldom let their studies interfere with their badminton. Always just a little better than David, Eddie won more than 150 tournaments before the American Badminton Association invited him to the U.S. He reckons that he has traveled 500,000 miles just to keep badminton dates. Long barnstorming tours, tough matches day after...
...tombstone. But he found it harder to meet the recurrent agony of writing: "A hundred pages more, and this cursed book is flung out from me." Some days he had "the strength of 20,000 cockneys"; on others he was "sunk as in tropical oppression" with a "base, underhand desire to lie down in everlasting leaden sleep." Sometimes the limp writing hand he held out for Jane Carlyle to pat was only slapped, and Carlyle would whimper, "You are not good to me just now." But more often she fought the literary battle out at his side, freely giving...