Prescriptivist's Corner: Foreign Plurals

1 April 2002

English borrows words like no other language. All languages borrow words from others, but English is as close to a polyglot as any major language can be. While this borrowing adds to the richness and power of the language, it does present certain grammatical problems.

One of these problems is how to form plurals of borrowed words. Do you use the standard English plural of -s/-es? Or do you use the foreign plural?

In general, the rule is that when a word enters common use in English, use the English plural. If the word is still considered a foreign one, use the foreign plural. When in doubt, use -s/-es. Hence, it’s sopranos, not sopranifocuses, not foci, and forums, not fora.

But there are exceptions. It’s crises, not crisisescriteria, not criterions, and theses, not thesises. In some cases, both forms are acceptable as plurals. Both honorariums and honoraria are correct, as are millenniums and millennia. Gradually, the foreign plurals will be edged out of the language, but for now either can be used. How do you identify these words? Look up the proper plural forms in a dictionary.

In some cases both plurals are acceptable, but in different contexts. Sometimes the differentiation marks who is using the word. A botanist will say fungi, while general use prefers funguses. A zoologist or physician will say ova, most others will use ovums. Biologists use stimuli, but stimuluses is in general use.

In other cases, the differentiation marks different senses of the word. Groups of people are phalanxes, while finger and toe bones are phalangesProtozoans are used to count individual organisms, while classes of those creatures are protozoa. Only in the context of religious miracles is it stigmata. In all other cases it’s stigmas. In music it’s staves, everywhere else it’s staffs.

Before using a foreign plural form, make sure that it is the proper plural. The proper Greek plural of octopus, for example, is octopodes, not octopi. In English, use octopuses as the plural. It’s viruses, not virii. This type of error is known as hypercorrection.

These rules apply to other languages, not just Latin and Greek. The proper French plural of bon mot is bons mots, but in English the plural is bon mots. In French it’s chaises longues, in English it’s chaise longues. In English it’s cul-de-sacs, not culs-de-sacs. When the words are not commonly used in English, they retain the original French plural. So it’s chargés d’affaires and bêtes noires.

So how does one keep all this straight? It’s actually very simple. Remember, the dictionary is your friend. Finding the proper plural form is simply a question of reaching over to the nearest bookshelf or clicking to a new website. (Don’t trust Microsoft spell checkers. They’re usually right, but software engineers are notorious for their linguistic inadequacies.) And when in doubt, use -s/-es.

Words on the Web: www.sportscliche.com

1 April 2002

Crash Davis: “It’s time to work on your interviews.”
Ebby Calvin “Nuke” LaLoosh: “My interviews? What do I gotta do?”
Davis: “You’re gonna have to learn your clichés. You’re gonna have to study them, you’re gonna have to know them. They’re your friends. Write this down: ‘We gotta play it one day at a time.’”
LaLoosh: “Got to play… it’s pretty boring.”
Davis: “’Course it’s boring, that’s the point. Write it down.”
—Bull Durham, 1988

The sports cliché has been around as long as there have been sportswriters. Ever since Wee Willie Keeler told a reporter that the secret to batting success was to hit ‘em where they ain’t, the cliché has been unbreakably linked to sports. From poetry in motion to he tattooed that one, sports clichés abound in American discourse.

www.sportscliche.com records and archives these clichés. The site defines a sports cliché as “an expression that has been used in and around sports with sufficient frequency over a protracted period such that it is ‘tired’ at best and meaningless at worst.” The site also concludes “that nothing of any importance has ever been said in a halftime analysis.”

The site is basically a series of lists, categorized by sport (baseball, football), location (winner’s locker room, loser’s locker room), and special categories (clichés devoted to John Elway). There’s even a page on the music that is played too often in stadiums and ballparks. Features include search function and quiz.

The site is pretty Spartan though. It could use some sprucing up, like making the quiz interactive. But it serves the basic function of identifying these phrases for what they are.

Book Review: Dickson's New Baseball Dictionary

1 April 2002

Few pastimes have contributed as much to the language as baseball. All sports have their own jargon and occasionally some of those jargon words make their way into general speech. But baseball is different in the sheer number or words and phrases that it has contributed to the language.

Dickson’s revised version of his baseball dictionary contains over 7,000 entries, from A (as in Class A ball) to zurdo (Spanish for lefty). Most jargon dictionaries simply record the definitions of terms. Dickson goes well beyond this. He identifies archaic and obsolete terms, cross-references related terms, includes etymologies, and for many terms gives the first known use, notes on usage, and quotations of actual use.

The extended notes on etymology and first use are a researcher’s dream. Dickson gives cogent and concise explanations that are backed by verifiable citations. Baseball fans will enjoy the historical minutiae that he includes, and wordsmiths will delight in the detailed and verifiable source material he provides.

Dickson is not shy about extended entries when they’re justified. The entry for fan, for example, runs to two full pages, not counting illustrations. Most of this text is devoted to a discussion of the word’s etymology. (It turns out the best evidence is that the term was coined in 1896 as a clipped form of fanatic. It has a distinct baseball origin. There is considerable use of fancy and fancier in British sporting circles for decades prior to this, but no one has found an earlier, or non-baseball, use of the clipped form fan.)

Along the way, the reader will encounter some surprises. Many fans of the game, for example, will know that the phrase the boys of summer, comes from a 1972 Roger Kahn book about the Brooklyn Dodgers. But few will know that Kahn takes his title from a Dylan Thomas poem (which is not about baseball).

There’s a lot here for the language generalist, but those who will truly appreciate the book are baseball fans. While baseball’s impact on the English language has been deep, most of the 7,000 entries are very baseball-specific jargon terms. They range from fairly unimaginative terms like “long reliever” to the mysterious “fungo” (a practice fly ball, of obscure origin with multiple competing explanations of its origin).

This “new” 1999 edition is an update of Dickson’s 1988 baseball dictionary. It adds some 2,000 entries and includes some 100 softball terms. It also includes a new thesaurus, which allows the reader to quickly identify synonyms. (A single can also be called a bagger, base hit, baser, bingle, bingo, one-bagger, one-base hit, one-sacker, safety, and solo shot.) The book also includes an annotated bibliography that is a one-stop shop for baseball terminology source material.

Dickson’s research is generally superb and incorporates some the latest research available up to the 1999 date of publication. The book is not without errors, however, there are occasional typos, like Gary instead of Greg Maddux, and some Dickson’s facts about 19th century baseball are confused (understandable, records from that period are incomplete and often contradictory). Also, some of his dates can be antedated quite easily by consulting the OED or Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang—but then again, in other cases Dickson has citations that antedate those found in these dictionaries. And where Dickson makes an error in date of first use it’s usually by only a year or two. Overall, the errors in Dickson’s work are few and far between.

For anyone interested in the language of baseball, Dickson’s work is the place to start—and for most purposes will be sufficient for the finish as well.

Paperback. 576 pages. February 1999. $20.00. Harvest Books; ISBN: 0156005808.

Word of the Month: Baseball

1 April 2002

In honor of the return of the boys of summer, the word of the month for April is:

Baseball n.; a game between two teams of nine players each, under the direction of a manager, played on an enclosed field in accordance with the Official Baseball Rules, under jurisdiction of one or more umpires. Originally a name for the British game of rounders, the term dates to at least 1744 when John Newberry included a poem about the game in a children’s book. The name was applied to the modern game in 1845, when Alexander Cartwright first codified the rules of the game and formed the Knickerbocker Base Ball Club. (Contrary to myth, Abner Doubleday had nothing to do with the game.)

Of course, the word baseball is not enough to justify an entire Word of the Month article. The word on its own doesn’t reflect the impact that baseball has had on the English language. Few other activities, and certainly no other sport, have contributed so many jargon words to the general vocabulary. War and sex are probably the only other human endeavors that have had a greater impact on the language—I much prefer baseball to war, but the national pastime does run a close second behind sex (except perhaps in October when baseball tends to be more important).

The following is a partial list of some baseball jargon words that have made their way into the general lexicon. Most have their origins in the game, but a few listed here originated elsewhere but didn’t become common until baseball popularized them:

Ace n.; an expert, the best at a particular activity; from cards, the ace being the highest value card; popularized by the baseball sense of a team’s best pitcher. Baseball lore assigns the origin of the term to Asa Brainard, who won 56 of 57 games in 1869 playing for the Cincinnati Red Stockings. But there is no evidence that the term comes from Brainard. The term is not found in baseball use until 1902; the sense of ace meaning a dependable person dates to 1848.

A Team n.; an elite group; from the baseball sense of a grouping of a club’s best players for practice purposes.

Back-to-back adj.; events following one another without break (c. 1900); from baseball slang, as in back-to-back homers.

Ballpark figure n.; a rough estimate; first appears as in the ballpark in 1962; by 1967, ballpark figure had appeared.

Bat a thousand v.phr.; perfect performance; from batting average, a 1.000 average being a hit for every at bat.

Bean n.; the head; from baseball slang (c. 1905); also v. to hit on the head, particularly with a baseball.

Bench n.; those not participating (1891); from the bench in the dugout where team members not currently in the lineup sit; also v. to remove from play, to send to the bench.

Benchwarmer n.; a non-participant (1889); from a player who keeps the bench warm by sitting on it.

Bleachers n.; backless, uncovered, unreserved seating for spectators (1888); from jocular reference to fans bleaching in the sun; the “bleaching boards” was in use for spectator seating as early as 1836.

Bonehead n.; a stupid person or play (1908); from baseball slang, someone with a solid skull instead of brains. Also boner. First used in reference to the infamous Merkle’s Boner of 23 September 1908, when NY Giant Fred Merkle was on first base and Moose McCormick was on third with the score tied in the bottom of the ninth. Al Bridwell singled to the outfield and McCormick crossed home plate, which should have scored the winning run. Merkle, however, ran to the dugout without touching second base, allowing a force out that invalidated the run. Chicago went on to win the game and the pennant.

Breaks, the n.; good luck or fortune (1908); from baseball slang.

Bronx cheer n.; a sputtering sound made with the tongue protruding through the lips, used as a show of disgust and contempt, a raspberry (1927); allegedly a practice begun or commonly used by Yankees fans.

Bush adj.; amateurish, inferior (1905); from baseball slang for the minor leagues, a reference to the uncomfortable and primitive conditions in which minor league players live and play; also busher, Bush League.

Charley horse n.; a muscle cramp or pain (1886); from baseball slang; who Charley was, is not known.

Choke v.; to play poorly in a clutch situation (1937); from baseball slang.

Clutch n.; a critical or key situation (1929); for statistical purposes, a clutch is defined as a situation in the seventh inning or later where the lead is three runs or less; the baseball term may come from mechanics, where engaging a clutch allows parts to move and failure of a clutch causes faulty operation.

Doubleheader n.; paired or two consecutive events (1896); popularized by the baseball term meaning two games played back-to-back where spectators can see both games for a single admission price; originally a railroad term for single train with two engines; use of doubleheaders saved on labor and was an issue in the US railroad strike of 1877.

Fan n.; a spectator, particularly one devoted to a particular team (1887); probably a clipped form of fanatic; often thought to come from fancy or fancier, but there is no strong evidence of this.

First base n.; the first step in an endeavor or activity; the first kiss between a dating couple; figurative use dates to at least 1928; from baseball, the first stage in an attempt to score is to reach first base.

Gate money/receipts n.; admission fees (1867); first used in reference to the Cincinnati Red Stockings, the first professional baseball team.

Go to bat for v.phr.; to make a plea on someone’s behalf (1939); from pinch hitting.

Ground rules n.; rules or procedures set out in advance; from baseball jargon for rules particular to a ballpark or temporary situation, e.g., when Vice President Hubert Humphrey attended a 1965 World Series game, one of the ground rules was that if a batted ball struck a Secret Service agent standing on the field, the ball would remain in play.

Heads up adj.; alert, quick thinking (1934); from baseball slang. There are some 19th century literal uses of the term, meaning to hold one’s head erect, but the sense of alertness stems from baseball.

“Hit ‘em where they ain’t” c.phr.; rallying cry; from William “Wee Willie” Keeler’s explanation as to why he hit .432 in 1897, “I keep my eyes clear and I hit ‘em where they ain’t.”

Home run n.; big-scoring play, a clear success (1856); surprisingly this term doesn’t originate in baseball, instead baseball adopted it from cricket where it means a ball hit out of bounds, scoring multiple runs. But the popularity of the term and its extended usages are due almost entirely to baseball.

Jinx n.; a person or thing that causes bad luck (1911); also a verb (1912) meaning to cause bad luck; baseball popularized, but didn’t originate this term. 

Ladies day n.; promotional event offering reduced price or free admission to women (1883); the practice originated in baseball.

Left field n.; the left side of the outfield as viewed from home plate (1854); the position name dates to the earliest days of baseball; out of/from left field c.phr.; unusual, irrational, unexpected (1947); probably from the idea that because of the distance, a throw from left field is not expected to reach first base in time to put the batter out; out in left field c.phr.; odd, bizarre (1930s); of unknown origin, three major theories contend, 1) because of the power of right-handed batters, the left fielder played the deepest, 2) the left field bleachers were the least desirable seats, 3) behind left field of Chicago’s West Side Ballpark stood the Neuropsychiatric Institute of the University Illinois College of Medicine. Players and fans who behaved oddly were deemed to have escaped from institute.

Muff v.; to err (1846); another cricket term popularized in the US by baseball; perhaps from the image of dropping a ball as if it were a hot muffin.

Off base adj.; out of line, operating from a bad premise (1936); from a runner taking a lead from the base, risking a pick-off for an increased chance of successfully stealing.

On deck adj.; next in line, ready (1867); baseball borrowed the term from nautical jargon, but the sense of being next is distinctly baseball’s. The original positions were at bat, on deck, and in the hold. In the hold (or hole) is rarely heard anymore.

On the ball adj.; alert, at one’s best (1911); from a pitcher “putting speed/spin/spit on the ball.”

Phenom n.; rookie of exceptional ability, a prodigy (1881); this clipping was first used in baseball, although use of the full word phenomenon in other fields predates it.

Play-by-play n.; detailed verbal account, running commentary (1912); baseball jargon for an account (originally written, now broadcast) of each play of the game.

Rain check n.; postponed or deferred acceptance (1884); from guaranteed admission back into the park when the game is called on account of rain.

Rhubarb n.; a fight, argument, or altercation (1934); originally theatrical slang for a word repeated to simulate the murmuring of a crowd; made famous by Red Barber and other baseball broadcasters.

Right off the bat c.phr.; immediately (1909); a metaphor for the speed with which a ball leaves the bat.

Rookie n.; neophyte (1892); actually originally an army term, a corruption of recruit; in baseball use by 1909; baseball popularized the word in the US.

Root v.; to cheer (1887); the origin is a bit obscure, but it is definitely a baseball term in origin; probably from cheering fans stamping their feet hard, as if they were trying to dig a hole in the ground.

Screwball n. and adj.; crazy, eccentric (1928); a baseball pitch thrown with an inward rotation of the hand and arm; NY Giant Christy Mathewson was the first to make the pitch famous, calling it a fade-away. Later, fellow Giant Carl Hubbell revived the pitch in 1928 and took to calling it a screwball. According to Hubbell, the pitch was named that by minor league catcher Earl Walgamot, who said it was the “screwiest thing I ever saw.” There is an older sense of the term from cricket (1866), but given the well-publicized debut of the pitch by Hubbell it does not appear that cricket is the source of this particular baseball term. 

Showboat v.; to show off (1942); baseball took this term for a riverboat where drama and music were performed and turned it into a verb.

Shut out n.; a game or endeavor where the loser is prevented from scoring (1881); the baseball jargon derives from horse racing, where late bettors are shut out at the window; the sense of a scoreless loss is pure baseball.

Smash hit n.; a great success (1923); the baseball origins of this one are obvious, a hard-hit ball.

Southpaw n.; a left-handed person (1885); originally baseball jargon for a left-handed pitcher, probably from the fact that baseball diamonds are usually arranged so the batters would face east, so they don’t have to look into the afternoon sun. The pitcher’s left hand, or paw, is therefore on the southern side.

Strike out v.; to fail (1866); another one that obviously comes from baseball; also the c.phr. three strikes and you’re out.

Switch hitter n.; a person who alternates between two radically different styles or orientations, esp. sexually, a bisexual person (1938); from baseball jargon for a batter who hits both right and left handed. The baseball term arises rather late, probably because switch-hitting was relatively rare until the 1950s.

Warm-up n. and v.; exercise or practice before an athletic contest (1893); from the practice thrown by pitchers before entering a game.

Great Vowel Shift

1 March 2002

Perhaps the biggest single change in English pronunciation happened during the transition from Middle English to Modern English. Linguists call this the Great Vowel Shift. The shift began c. 1300 and continued through c. 1700, with the majority of the change occurring in the 15th and 16th centuries. So the language of Chaucer is largely pre-shift and the language of Shakespeare is largely post-shift, although the changes were underway before Chaucer was born and continued on after Shakespeare had died.

During the Great Vowel Shift, English speakers changed the way they pronounced long vowels. Before the shift, English vowels were pronounced in much the same way that they are spoken in modern continental European languages. After the shift, they had achieved their modern phonological values.

For example, a Middle English speaker would pronounce the long e in sheep as we pronounce the word shape today. Fine was pronounced fien (as in fiend). Sea was pronounced like the modern say.

The difference can be seen in similar words that enter English before and after the shift. For example, the long i sound in polite, a word which makes its appearance c. 1450 from the Latin politus, meaning polished, burnished, cultivated underwent the shift. The similarly constructed police, which was borrowed a hundred years later from the Medieval Latin politia, missed the shift and is pronounced in the traditional, continental manner.

Okay, so what exactly changed in the shift? Basically it was a shift in the position of the tongue when the long vowels were pronounced. The shift didn’t affect short vowels, which we pronounce today much like Chaucer did. But with long vowels, the tongue moved up in the mouth and either further forward or back. If you pronounce the letters A and E several times in succession, you can feel your tongue moving forward and back in your mouth. A is a fronted vowel; it is pronounced with the tongue forward. E is a backed vowel, pronounced with the tongue back. After the shift, fronted vowels were pronounced with the tongue higher and further forward than previously and backed vowels were pronounced higher and further back. And the long i and long u sounds, which prior to the shift were already pronounced with the tongue high, became diphthongs—vowel sounds with two distinct elements.

Also, in some words the long vowels e and o shifted to become short vowels, especially in compounds. Hence, we have the difference in pronunciation between bone, from the Old English ban, and bonfire, which is literally a bone fire or funeral pyre. Scotland retained the original pronunciation longer, spelling it bane-fire until c. 1800. Similarly the long e in sheep shortened in the word shepherd.

Now the shift wasn’t completely consistent. Some words resisted the change. Sea shifted, but great and break didn’t. As a result ea has two distinct sounds in English.

The shift wasn’t consistent over different regions either. The shift occurred later and was weaker as you moved northward into the North of England and into Scotland. So Scottish pronunciation is closer to Chaucer’s than is the modern London accent.