Doyen of sports speak Dr Braveword is back

I am glad to welcome back the doyen of English language studies, Dr Braveword, who has taken a brief break from his research into speech patterns in the bars of Trinidad to answer your queries about the way we speak on sports. All yours, doc! Dear Dr Braveword: I noticed just now you were introduced as “the doyen of English language studies on sports. “ What exactly is a “doyen?”

Dr Braveword writes: It is the French word for “dean” of sport. Dear Dr Braveword: Fair enough. What is a “dean” of sport. Is that different to a “minister” of sport? Dr Braveword writes: A dean is the man who runs a department or faculty of sport, and is an expert, not like a minister of sport, who is appointed based on necessity rather than knowledge. Dear Dr Braveword: Fair enough. What department or faculty did Dean Dancing Brave run? Dr Braveword writes: He ran the faculty of satire and ridicule in sports journalism at the University of Arima for two days. There were a lot of attendants from several of the sporting organisations in Trinidad, especially cricket and football. He even provided wheelchairs and walking sticks for the geriatrics that run this sport. In fact there was almost a fight as one of the geriatrics got a larger seat than the other and the jealously almost caused some cus-sing, as if it were a political platform performance.

Dear Dr Braveword: Did he really? Dr Braveword writes: Of course not, you dunderhead. I was merely answering a fatuous question with a fatuous answer. Dear Dr Braveword: So what is a “doyen,” then? Dr Braveword writes: Well, if you really want to know, it comes from the Latin word decanus, meaning the leader of a group of ten people, like the President of the West Indies Cricket Board, Teddy Griffith, although he is no expert at this job. Similarly we can call Brian Charles Lara a dean, and he is a true expert. Dear Dr Braveword: No, I want to know what it means. Dr Braveword writes: It means the most senior surviving member of a group. For instance then you can say that only Ridley Jacobs, Shivnarine Chanderpaul and to a lesser extent Brian Lara were deans on the West Indies tour of England.

Dear Dr Braveword: Was Neil De Silva Dean of Slow the oldest survivor of some group? Dr Braveword writes: No. He was called Dean Slow because new age writers in these days were inclined to be truthful unlike TTOC and the NAAA, so deserving athletes are often called by their titles instead of their name. Greedy Belly Henry but one of many other examples from the Sydney Olympic shambles. Dear Dr Braveword: What other examples? Dean Slow de Silva and Greedy Belly Henry are the only two that you can think of, aren’t they? Dr Braveword writes: Of course. When we say “but one of many examples” or “other examples are too numerous to mention,” it means we cannot think of any others, just as “one example taken at random” means that we have spent hours looking for the right example. Dear Dr Braveword: How do you pronounce “doyen?”

Dr Braveword writes: There are three ways of pronouncing any foreign word such as “doyen.” One is the English way, one is the correct, or French, way and one is what the English think is the correct French way. Dear Dr Braveword: What about TV Sport Announcer’s way? Dr Braveword writes: I’m not with you. Dear Dr Braveword: These are sports broadcasters from NBN and GAYELLE who, despite their obvious erudition, refuse to pronounce foreign names properly. In the near future, we will witness the Athens Olympics. I can only imagine them persistently pronouncing Bach as “Bark.” And recently I can imagine them talking a lot about a French novelist called “Balls Ack” when it was meant to be the French novelist Balzac. What would you call the impulse to pronounce foreign names wrongly, apart from Lack of Training Syndrome?

Dr Braveword writes: I would call it “machismo syndrome” or “know-all show off .” I am amazed by how many intelligent people assume the word “machismo” must be pronounced “mackismo.” It is, in fact, pronounced as written, but still sports broadcasters should report the news and not make the news. Dear Dr Braveword: When you say “I never cease to be amazed,” is that one of those phrases like “one example taken at random,” that mean the opposite of what they seem to say and that you have long since ceased to be amazed by people saying “mackismo”? Dr Braveword writes: Yes. But language in sport is most illogical. It often means the opposite of what it seems to say. Take, for instance, the expression “miserable as sin” to describe the behaviour of sporting officials in football. The whole point about sin is that whatever else it is, it is meant to be fun; otherwise, people wouldn’t do it. So why do we say “miserable as sin?” Why do we say something was a “picnic,” implying that it was very easy?

Organising a picnic is one of the hardest things a man can do, and even women don’t find it much easier. Why do we talk about “rats leaving a sinking ship” as we look at people trying to distance themselves from politics, while others gallop in, with their feet first? We should never consider those who desert a ship as if it were a cowardly thing to do, as it is completely sensible and honourable? Dear Dr Braveword: I don’t know. Dr Braveword writes: Nor do I. Let’s go down the pub and see if a beer will make things clear. Dr Braveword will be back soon. Keep those queries rolling in!

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