Word: bashfully
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Dates: during 1990-1990
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...majesty, all ye who would oppose them! Try to keep Rickey Henderson, the game's premier player, from stealing you blind; he's on the verge of eclipsing Lou Brock's all-time stolen-base record. Don't groove a pitch to Jose Canseco or Mark McGwire; the Bash Brothers will lose it over the far fence. Watch, and wince, as Dave Henderson or Carney Lansford gets the clutch hit. Scan the depth of the A's bench; almost any scrub could start on another team. Note the new recruits, just in time for the big games: slugger Harold Baines...
...suit up, let alone sand up, as the A's performed what amounted to surgery without anesthesia. At the end, in the champagneless locker room, the satisfied heart of A's manager Tony La Russa could be seen beating beneath a T shirt that promoted The Ballet School. The Bash Brethren had pirouetted through disaster...
...Shaalan One camp, civility ends when the water truck arrives. As cries of "Water! Water!" erupt in a babel of languages from hundreds of parched throats, men and women battle their way to the nozzle of the tanker. One feverish man grabs a stone and threatens to bash a competitor's skull. Meanwhile, most of the precious liquid spills on the ground and vanishes into the sand...
Heavy peer pressure is just one factor. Contact sports may be inherently violent, but, notes Harvard's Dr. Lawrence Hartmann, president-elect of the American Psychiatric Association, "sports today is a phenomenon of excess, of ferocious aggression." Players are encouraged to bash opponents out of a game, by fair means or foul. Brawls and scuffles interrupt baseball and basketball games, and hockey melees have long been so common they are considered just a part of the show. Few athletic officials seem upset. Instead of quickly handing out fines and suspensions, too many coaches and managers engage in long-winded debates...
...what was fascinating and colorful about stock-car racing also helped keep the sport provincial. "People used to think of stock-car driving as the kind of thing where you roll your cigarettes up in your sleeve and go out for a Saturday night bash-up," recalls Wallace, 33, whose fresh face suggests a fast-track Wall Street trainee rather than a fast-lane white knuckler. "The side of your car usually had something like JOE'S GARAGE...