Sports Word of the Year 2016
Jonnie Robinson, Lead Curator of Spoken English, writes:
So congratulations to Andy Murray on his well-deserved victory at the BBC Sports Personality of the Year (SPOTY) awards, one of countless ceremonies that take place at this time of year as clubs, societies, institutions and industries recognise the outstanding people, events or phenomena of the previous twelve months. In a year dominated by political upheaval itâ€™s perhaps not surprising that linguists at Oxford Dictionaries chose â€˜post-truthâ€™ as their Word of the Year 2016 from a list of candidates that included several items reflecting contemporary societal challenges â€“ Brexiteer, glass cliff and alt-right. Here then, in similar spirit, are my ten nominations for the 3rd unofficial British Library Sports Word of the Year (SWOTY) selected from examples of interesting English usage in the British sporting press and media in 2016:
January (Lawrence Ostlere on Jade Clarke signing for Loughborough Lightning, Guardian Sport): The mid-courter values her time abroad and wants to see more young players experience the ANZ Championship
January (Richard Williams on the treacherous Hahnenkamm downhill slope in KitzbÃ¼hel, Guardian Sport): This weekâ€™s new snow will enable the skiers to tackle the Streifâ€™s whole length, from its near vertical start to the fiendish icy traverse of the final schuss
March (Eddie Jones on the Welsh RFUâ€™s vacillation regarding Joe Marlerâ€™s alleged description of Welsh prop Sampson Lee as â€˜gypsy boyâ€™, Radio 5 Live) They donâ€™t know whether theyâ€™re Arthur or Martha
May (Robert Kitson on Saracens wing Chris Ashton, Guardian Sport) The player who used to appear several scones short of a tea party has matured and learned from his mistakes
June (Neil Lennon on Wales v Northern Ireland at Euro 2016, Radio 5 Live) The gameâ€™s a bit eachy-peachy
June (Barney Ronay on Englandâ€™s humiliating Euro 2016 defeat to Iceland, Guardian Sport) For the next few months a post-Royxit vacuum beckons
July (Andy Sullivan on how to hit a fade shot, Sky Sports 1) I [â€¦] just open my stance up to hit that little lemonade
August (Aaron Bower quoting Gareth Ellis in the build-up to the Challenge Cup Final, Guardian Sport) Last year I was limping around with a pot on [my foot] and now Iâ€™m leading Hull out at a cup final
August (Emma John on the womenâ€™s Olympic hockey final, Guardian Sport) The first four shuffles had gone begging before the Dutch keeper Joyce Sombroek was ruled to have deliberately fouled Sophie Bray
November (Simon Hughes on the wicket for India v England 2nd Test): [Itâ€™s unlikely to be] a raging Bunsen straightaway
As in previous years the list is drawn from the usual suspects â€“ football and rugby union (two entries each), rugby league, cricket and golf (one each), but this year includes netball, skiing and hockey for the first time. The ten nominations have been chosen as they demonstrate a range of linguistic phenomena from jargon, slang and dialect to loan-words and neologisms. Having spent several years teaching German Iâ€™m particularly pleased to include the skiing term schuss [= a straight downhill descent] as a rare example of a sporting loan-word. English dominates sporting discourse for a number of reasons â€“ not just the current status of English as a global language, but also the influential role played by the British in codifying many (but by no means all) international sports. Thus loan-words are relatively rare, but alpine sport, understandably, is a notable exception as illustrated by e.g. piste, aprÃ¨s-ski (both from French), langlauf (like schuss, from German), slalom and, of course, the word ski itself (both from Norwegian). Loan-words surface from time to time in other sports â€“ in recent years football has appropriated rabona, tiki-taka and last yearâ€™s SWOTY winner, gegenpressing, for instance â€“ but unlike schuss these tend to appear italicised or within speech marks in print, reflecting their novelty or status as exotic, potentially temporary terms. Schuss is an example of sporting jargon â€“ a technical term used by participants, coaches and fans and universally understood within those circles to describe a particular action, skill or element of the sport. The other examples of jargon here are shuffle [= a system used to determine the winner of a drawn contest in hockey in which an attacker has 8 seconds to score a goal in a one-on-one situation against the goalkeeper] and mid-courter [= netballer who specialises in playing centre, wing defence or wing attack]. Thankfully, GB goalkeeper, Maddie Hinch, cemented her reputation this summer as the worldâ€™s best at penalty shuffles and anyone familiar with netball (or basketball) will know the value of a versatile mid-courter.
Six entries reveal sporting discourse as a particularly rich repository of vernacular forms. Three items might reasonably be categorised as dialect: eachy-peachy [= phrase equivalent to â€˜six of one, half a dozen of the otherâ€™]; pot [= plaster cast]; and not know whether one is Arthur or Martha [= to be in a state of confusion]. The other three might be classified as slang: several scones short of a tea party [= slightly, albeit endearingly, mad]; lemonade [= rhyming slang for â€˜little fadeâ€™, i.e. a golf shot that is directed intentionally left of the target and drifts right in the air before landing]; and Bunsen [= rhyming slang for â€˜Bunsen burner: turnerâ€™, i.e. a wicket likely to be advantageous to spin bowlers]. Finally, Royxit [= the resignation of former England football manager Roy Hodgson] demonstrates the enthusiasm with which the media latched on to neologisms formed by analogy with Brexit â€“ a blend of <British> and <exit> that quickly established itself as universal shorthand for the UKâ€™s decision to leave the European Union following this Juneâ€™s referendum. Politics, of course, has always had an impact on language so it will be interesting to see if forms like Brexit prove as prolific as the infinitely productive suffix <-gate> that originated in the Watergate scandal of the 1970s which prompted the resignation of US President Richard Nixon. In July 2016, for instance, Coiffeurgate trended on Twitter following revelations of French President FranÃ§ois Hollandeâ€™s allegedly extravagant hairdressing bill, and, during television coverage of this summerâ€™s Olympic marathon, Steve Cram urged fellow BBC commentators, Brendan Foster & Paula Radcliffe, to end a long-winded discussion of Bahrainian athlete Alemu Bekeleâ€™s frequent stops to tie his shoelaces with the phrase enough of Lacegate. Guardian journalist Sean Ingleâ€™s use of Chexit and Lexit to refer, respectively, to Chelseaâ€™s and Liverpoolâ€™s current absence from European football competition demonstrates how such light-hearted wordplay appeals to our sense of linguistic creativity.
Not surprisingly, Brexit merits an entry in the Oxford English Dictionary, unlike Royxit, which, as a neologism, is unlikely to meet criteria for inclusion. Many of this yearâ€™s candidates are recorded in authoritative reference works, but some have yet to reach the attention of lexicographers, so their presence in the British Libraryâ€™s newspaper collections, web and sound archives is an invaluable resource for language scholars monitoring the continued evolution of English. The Oxford English Dictionary, for instance, includes mid-court and schuss, Collins English Dictionary categorises not know whether one is Arthur or Martha as â€˜Australian and New Zealand informalâ€™, while the Dictionary of the Scots Language records eachy-peachy from the 1960s. The New Partridge Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English (2006 edition) includes several examples of NOUN short of a NOUN (e.g. sandwich short of a picnic) and the BBC Voices survey (2004/5) captured numerous similar variants (e.g. slice short of a loaf and brick short of a load) confirming this is an extremely productive metaphor for mild eccentricity, although neither features scone short of a tea party. Iâ€™ve been unable to find the others in print glossaries, although the Cockney Rhyming Slang website suggests Bunsen burner is established rhyming slang, albeit for â€˜earnerâ€™, i.e. easy/quick profit, not for â€˜turnerâ€™. Proof of their authenticity, however, can be found in specialist reference works and publications: Martin Williamsonâ€™s glossary of cricket terms includes Bunsen in the sense recorded here and a Golf Digest article confirms the use of lemonade in this sense and both forms bear witness to our enduring fascination with, and affection for, rhyming slang. Wikipedia explains the importance of shuffles in hockey, while pot is captured in a recording submitted to the Libraryâ€™s Evolving English WordBank.
And so to this yearâ€™s winner â€¦ given the incomprehensible absence of female athletes in this yearâ€™s SPOTY top three and comparative lack of representation in the nominations here drawn from womenâ€™s sport â€“ a reflection of the glaringly disproportionate prominence of menâ€™s sport in the mainstream media â€“ combined with the presence of glass cliff in the Oxford Dictionaries Word of the Year nominations Iâ€™m going for shuffles in honour of the extraordinary achievement of GB womenâ€™s hockey team securing their first Olympic Gold. Fingers crossed for an increased profile for womenâ€™s sport and continued success in womenâ€™s hockey in 2017 â€“ especially @DUHC1 Womenâ€™s 1st XI and @southgateHC Ladies 2nd XI.