Word: pitching
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...quiet, good word for everyone, and once the game is started, he never raises his voice unless it is to call in a substitute over the roar of the spectators. In the locker room between halves, he also wants quiet. When the boys are at such an emotional pitch, the effect of an exhorting coach can only be harmful, Art feels. This reassuring coolness lasts until the winning team picks up the ball and carries it off the field. Then, and only then, can he ease up and let the inner tension seep from him. And when it is gone...
...Superman shows is that the Captain can't "leap tall buildings at a single bound," or perform any of Superman's other specialties. His scope of activities is thereby diminished, along with the quality of his antagonists. The villains may still be mad geniuses, but they don't pitch planets around. Some of them do threaten mankind, although on a lesser scale, of course...
...Communists everywhere, the upset meant a frenzied scramble for a new pitch. The Moscow radio clapped a hand over its own mouth for more than 24 hours. Excited Communists in Frankfurt tacked up a candid sign on the door to their conference room: "Meeting scheduled for today has been postponed because of Truman's election." Explained a harassed party official: "We have suspended scheduled activities for today, awaiting new orders...
Sweet & Young. To her practiced eye, the debutante party is a poor pitch. The boys from Harvard, Yale and Princeton who throng the stag line and trace the source of champagne and Scotch to the pantry with the single-minded cunning of a parched mongoose, are not what she is looking for. Said Joanne: "I don't really like college boys. I know what they are going to say and how they think. They're so silly, and don't know how to drink." Some of the college boys seemed to share her indifference. Said a Yale...
...Isolde, were hard at work at new peacetime jobs. Eight other falcons were busy at Driffield in Yorkshire. Each day a thickly gloved trainer took them out on the field and gingerly removed their hoods. Then (in falconer's lingo) "they rang up from the fist, attained their pitch at 1,000 or more feet up, waited on until the game was served to them," and swooped to the kill at speeds up to 300 m.p.h. One flight a day has so far been enough to persuade other birds that Coltishall and Driffield are poor places to linger. Gatow...