Spanking Goals & Toe Pokes: Football Sayings Explained

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In the event of a military coup, sir, what makes you think the Secret Service is gonna be on your side? Now that's a thought that's gonna fester. About a week ago I accidentally slept with a prostitute. You accidentally slept with a prostitute. Did you trip over something? A Proportional Response [ edit ] Josh: A couple of things for you to bear in mind. First of all, he didn't know she was a call girl when he slept with her. He didn't pay her.

Spanking Goals and Toe Pokes - Football Sayings Explained (Electronic book text, 1st E-book ed.)

He didn't participate in, have knowledge of, or witness anything illegal. Or for that matter, unethical, amoral, or suspect. A couple things for you to bear in mind. None of that matters on Hard Copy! As women are prone to do. That's not what I meant. That's always what you mean. You know what, C. Well, I've got a staff meeting to go to and so do you, you elitist Harvard fascist missed-the-dean's-list-two-semesters-in-a-row Yankee jackass! Feel better getting that off your chest there, C. I'm a whole new woman.

You look like a million bucks, by the way. Don't try to make up with me. The President better not be planning on making any visits to this base. If he does, he may not get out alive. Sitting there with military officers? Don't take the bait. Don't take the bait! You'd better believe I'm going to take the bait. There ought to be a law against it. Why'd you get him started? There is a law against it! How about threatening the life of the President? He was talking to other people: They were military officers, how about treason? That was a member of our own party, Leo. That was a Democrat who said that!

It's bad, I know. What are you going to do? Have the Justice Department bring him in pending felony charges. What's the good of being in power if you're not going to haul your enemies in for questioning? We're really not gonna do anything about this? Yeah, cause what we really need to do is arrest people for being mean to the President. There is no law. There is no decency. What's the virtue of the proportional response? What is the virtue of a proportional response? They hit an airplane, so we hit a transmitter, right? That's a proportional response. Sir, in the case of Pericles 1 -- Bartlet: That's roughly it, yes, sir.

This is what we do. I mean, this is what we do. Yes, sir, it's what we do. It's what we've always done. Well, if it's what we do, if it's what we've always done, don't they know we're going to do it? Sir, if you'd turn your attention to Pericles 1 -- Bartlet: I have turned my attention to Pericles 1. It's two ammo dumps, an abandoned railroad bridge and a Syrian intelligence agency. Those are four highly-rated targets, sir.

But they know we're gonna do that. They know we're gonna do that! Those areas have been abandoned for three days now. We know that from the satellite, right? We have the intelligence. It's the cost of doing business. It's been factored in, right? Am I right, or am I missing something here? Then I ask again, what is the virtue of a proportional response? It isn't virtuous, Mr. It's all there is, sir. It is not all there is. Sir, Admiral Fitzwallace -- Admiral Fitzwallace: President, just what else is there?

Let the word ring forth, from this time and this place, gentlemen, you kill an American, any American, we don't come back with a proportional response. We come back with total disaster! Are you suggesting that we carpet-bomb Damascus? I am suggesting, General, that you, and Admiral Fitzwallace, and Secretary Hutchinson, and the rest of the National Security Team take the next sixty minutes and put together an American response scenario that doesn't make me think we're just docking somebody's damn allowance!

Did you know that two thousand years ago a Roman citizen could walk across the face of the known world free of the fear of molestation? He could walk across the Earth unharmed, cloaked only in the protection of the words civis Romanus -- I am a Roman citizen. So great was the retribution of Rome, universally understood as certain, should any harm befall even one of its citizens. Where was Morris's protection, or anybody else on that airplane?

Where was the retribution for the families, and where is the warning to the rest of the world that Americans shall walk this Earth unharmed, lest the clenched fist of the most mighty military force in the history of mankind comes crashing down on your house?! In other words, Leo, what the hell are we doing here?! We are behaving the way a superpower ought to behave. Well our behavior has produced some crappy results; in fact I'm not a hundred per cent sure it hasn't induced it.

What are you talking about? And you think ratcheting up the body count's gonna act as a deterrent? You're damn right I- Leo: Oh, then you are just as stupid as these guys who think capital punishment is going to be a deterrent for drug kingpins. As if drug kingpins didn't live their day to day lives under the possibility of execution, and their executions are a lot less dainty than ours and tend to take place without the bother and expense of due process.

So, my friend, if you want to start using American military strength as the arm of the Lord, you can do that. We're the only superpower left. You can conquer the world, like Charlemagne! But you better be prepared to kill everyone. And you better start with me, because I will raise up an army against you and I will beat you! We are doing nothing. We are not doing nothing. Four high-rated military targets! Bartlet And this is good? Of course it's not good.

There is no good. It's what there is! It's how you behave if you're the most powerful nation in the world. It's proportional, it's reasonable, it's responsible, it's merciful! Four high-rated military targets. Which they'll rebuild again in six months. Then we'll blow 'em up again in six months! We're getting really good at it It's what our fathers taught us. I could pummel your ass with a baseball bat. Bertram Coles -- Bartlet: Oh, I love anything that starts with "Bertram Coles". Coles goes on the radio yesterday, and he says people in his district love America.

And you better not come down there, 'cause you might not get out alive. Bert's calling me out? No, apparently, the people in Bert's district are so patriotic, if the President of the United States himself were to show up Toby is on it. Oh, by the way, who's that kid before, the one who figured out where my glasses were? Well, if you want him, that's your new body man.

I have to tell you, he's ordinarily an extremely kind man, placing a very high premium on civility. I think I should probably go. Can I see you inside, please? Come on, it's okay. I'm Charles Young, sir. But you prefer Charlie, right? Listen, Leo McGarry filled me in on the situation with your mother. I'm so very sorry. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of calling Tom Connolly, the FBI Director, and we had the computer spit out some quick information.

Your mother was killed by a Western. Now, we have not had a whole lot of success yet in banning that weapon and those bullets off the streets, but we're planning on taking a big whack at it when Congress comes back from recess. So, what do you say? You want to come help us out? I've never felt like this before. It doesn't go away. Five Votes Down [ edit ] Josh: Forgive my bluntness, and I say this with all due respect, Congressman, but vote yes, or you're not even going to be on the ballot two years from now.

How do you figure? You're going to lose in the primary. There's no Democrat running against me. I'm in your own party! Doesn't seem to be doing us much good now, does it? Against an incumbent Democrat. You'll go to the press and endorse a challenger? We're going to do it in person. See, you won with fifty-two percent, but the President took your district with fifty-nine. And I think it's high time we come back and say thanks.

We're going to have a party, Congressman. You should come, it's gonna be great. And when the watermelon's done, right in town square, right in the band gazebo You guys got a band gazebo? Doesn't matter, we'll build one. Right in the band gazebo, that's where the President is going to drape his arm around the shoulder of some assistant DA we like. And you should have your camera with you. You should get a picture of that. President Bartlet's a good man. He's got a good heart. He doesn't hold a grudge. That's what he pays me for. Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Mr.

Merely a perception issue regarding Toby and the financial disclosure. Well, I like to roll up my sleeves and, you know Did you by any chance take your back pills? I don't mind telling you C. I was in a little pain there. Which did you take, sir, the Vicodin or the Percocet? I wasn't supposed to take 'em both? President, we're going to have someone take you back to bed. One of you's got a problem, and I'm here to help. You guys are like family. You've always been there for me. You've always been loyal, honest, hard-working good people, and I love you all very much, and I don't say that often enough.

Sam, of course you are. Sir, the situation basically is this. I arranged for a friend to testify to Commerce on Internet stocks, while simultaneously, but unrelated to that, bought a technology issue which, partly due to my friend's testimony, shot through the roof. Toby's a nice name, don't you think? Can we possibly do this meeting at another time? No no no, I know my body.

I know my muscles aren't, you know, but my mind is sharp. You all know that about me. Here's what I think we ought to do. There's two things in the world you never want to let people see how you make 'em: I'm curious about the President's farm in Manchester. What's that due to? Can you go into detail, please? The property now includes a helipad and the ability to run a global war from the sun porch. You know, I realize that as an adult not everyone shares my view of the world, and with an issue as hot as gun control I'm prepared to accept a lot of different points of view as being perfectly valid, but we can all get together on the grenade launcher, right?

The Crackpots and These Women [ edit ] Toby: It's not so much that you cheat sir, its how brazenly bad you are at it. Give me an example. In Florida, playing mixed doubles with me and C. It was Steffi Graf , sir! I'll admit the woman bore a striking resemblance to her. You crazy lunatic, you think I'm not going to recognize Steffi Graf when she's serving a tennis ball at me? Andrew Jackson , in the main foyer of his White House had a big block of cheese.

I am making a mental list of those who are snickering, and even as I speak I am preparing appropriate retribution. The block of cheese was huge - over two tons. And it was there for any and all who might be hungry. Leo, wouldn't this time be better spent plotting a war against a country that can't possibly defend itself against us? We can do that later, Toby.

Right now I'm talking about President Andrew Jackson. Sam Actually, right now, you're talking about a big block of cheese. And Sam goes on my list! Jackson wanted the White House to belong to the people, so from time to time, he opened his doors to those who wished an audience. And then he locked the doors behind them and made them eat two tons of cheese. It is in that spirit Mandy doesn't go on the list? So it's just me It is in the spirit of Andrew Jackson that I, from time to time, ask senior staff to have face-to-face meetings with those people representing organizations who have a difficult time getting our attention.

I know the more jaded among you, see this as something rather beneath you. But I assure you that listening to the voices of passionate Americans is beneath no one, and surely not the peoples' servants. Is it "Total Crackpot Day" again? And let us please note that Josh does not go on the list. Hey, everybody, listen up - Zoe's down from Hanover and I'm making chili for everyone tonight!

Everybody look down at the big seal in the middle of my carpet. You see how benevolent I can be when everybody just does what I tell them to do? They want me up in the plane or down in a bunker. They don't want you I didn't want to be friends with you and have you not know. You're very sweet sometimes. Of course they don't want me, Josh! I'm a press secretary. I don't think they're going to be issuing a whole lot of releases.

Sam and Toby are communications and my guess is that speech writing won't be a priority either. Come, have some fun. Do you know this? Do you think you have to be crazy to create something powerful? Josh, the Cold War is over. There's not going to be a nuclear— Josh: It's not going to be like that. It's not gonna be the red phone and nuclear bombs. What's it going to be? It's going to be this! It's going to be something like this. Smallpox has been gone for fifty years.

No one has an acquired immunity. Flies through the air. You get it, you carry a ten foot cloud around with you. One in three people die. If people in New York City got it, you'd have to encircle them with million vaccinated people to contain it. Do you know how many doses of smallpox vaccines exist in the country? If people in New York City get it, there's gonna be a global medical emergency that's gonna make HIV look like cold and flu season.

That's how it's gonna be, a little test tube with a We'll make more vaccine. You better hurry, 'cause I'm the only one with one of these cards. One of its booster rockets didn't fire and it couldn't escape Earth's orbit.

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A sad reminder of the time when two powerful nations challenged each other and then boldly raced into outer space. What will be the next thing that challenges us, Toby? That makes us go farther and work harder? You know that when smallpox was eradicated , it was considered the single greatest humanitarian achievement of this century?

Surely we can do it again, as we did in the time when our eyes looked towards the heavens, and with outstretched fingers we touched the face of God. Here's to absent friends and the ones that are here now. Willis of Ohio [ edit ] Sam: How could you- C. I've been faking it. You've been faking it? I've been playing it fast and loose there's no doubt about it, but sitting in on some of the meetings we've been having, and reading the briefing book last night, I have to say that the census is starting to sound to me like it's, well, important.

And, I've come to the realization that if I'm gonna be talking about it all week, it's probably best that I understand what I'm saying. When did you come to this realization? About an hour ago. I tell you what, let's forget the fact that you're coming a little late to the party and embrace the fact that you showed up at all.

That's what I say. Sam, I'm taking Charlie for a beer tonight before the vote. Zoey and Mallory are coming. If you want to come I guess that'd be okay. Why, Josh, you've swept me off my feet. You guys don't realize it, but you're having a pretty bad night. I swear to God I'll blow your head off. My name is Charlie Young, jackass. And if that bulge in your pocket's an 8-ball of blow, you'll be spending Spring Break in a federal prison. The Secret Service should worry about you getting shot! They are worried about me getting shot. I'm worried about me getting shot!

But that is nothing compared to how terrified we are of you. You scare the hell out of the Secret Service, Zoey, and you scare the hell out of me, too. My getting killed would be bad enough, but that is not the nightmare scenario. The nightmare scenario, sweetheart, is you getting kidnapped. You go out to a bar or a party in some club and you get up to go to the restroom. Somebody comes up from behind, puts their hand across your mouth and whisks you out the back door. You're so petrified you don't even notice the bodies of two Secret Service agents lying on the ground with bullet holes in their heads.

Then you're whisked away in a car. It's a big party with lots of noise and lots of people coming and going and it's a half hour before someone says, "Hey, where's Zoey? It's another hour and a half before anyone even thinks to shut down all the airports! And now we're off to the races! You're tied to a chair in a cargo shack somewhere in the middle of Uganda and I am told that I have seventy-two hours to get Israel to free four hundred and sixty terrorist prisoners.

So I'm on the phone, pleading with Binyamin and he's saying "I'm sorry Mr President, but Israel simply does not negotiate with terrorists, period! It's the only way we can survive. Do you get it?! How much were the sandwiches? I gave you a twenty. Yes, as it turns out, actually, you gave me more money than I needed to buy what you asked for. However, knowing you, as I do, I'm afraid I can't trust you to spend the change wisely. I've decided to invest it for you. That was a little parable. I want my money back. The State Dinner [ edit ] Donna: Because you tend to cull some bizarre factoid from a less than reputable source and then you blow it all out of proportion.

I just thought you might like to know that in certain parts of Indonesia, they summarily execute people they suspect of being sorcerers. Gangs of roving people. Beheading those they suspect of being sorcerers. No questions right now, Harry. It really bugs you that the President listens to me sometimes. What about a negotiator?

This is a standoff with federal officers. I think it would be wise if we demonstrated that we exhausted every possible peaceful solution before we got all Ramboed up. Let me tell you something. Ultimately, it is not the nuts that are the greatest threat to democracy, as history has shown us over and over and over again, the greatest threat to democracy is the unbridled power of the state over its citizens.

Which, by the way, that power is always unleashed in the name of preservation. The FBI says come out with your hands up, you come out with your hands up. Do you really believe that? Or are you just pissed off because I got into the game? Actually, if I may, Mr. But I got tired of listening to you. Now you listen to me. Fourteen White House lawyers disagree. And it was struck down by the Supreme Court.

As for Labor, I am calling Congress into Emergency Session to grant me the authority to draft the truckers into military service. Nice talking to you folks. We know where to find you. Enemies [ edit ] Bartlet: We should organize a staff field-trip to Shenandoah. I could even act as the guide. What do you think?

Did I say that out loud? See, and I was gonna let you go home. We're gonna talk about Yosemite. It couldn't have gone far, right? Somewhere in this building I find these Cabinet meetings to be a fairly mind-numbing experience, but Leo assures me they are Constitutionally required. You're asking me out on a date. No, I'm asking you to accompany me to see an internationally renowned opera company perform a work indigenous to its culture.

Right, and in what way will it distinguish itself from a date? There will be, under no circumstances, sex for you at the end of the evening. So what do you say? Even now they might have escaped, but that in the porch, barring retreat, appeared the crafty wheelwright, who had been watching all their proceedings.

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So they were seized, the school dismissed, and Tom and Jacob led away to Squire Brown as lawful prize, the boys following to the gate in groups, and speculating on the result. The war of independence had been over for some time: Between ourselves, he had often at first to run to Benjy in an unfinished state of toilet; Charity and the rest of them seemed to take a delight in putting impossible buttons and ties in the middle of his back; but he would have gone without nether integuments altogether sooner than have had recourse to female valeting.

He had a room to himself, and his father gave him sixpence a week pocket-money. But now he had conquered another step in life, the step which all real boys so long to make; he had got amongst his equals in age and strength, and could measure himself with other boys; he lived with those whose pursuits and wishes and ways were the same in kind as his own. The little governess who had lately been installed in the house found her work grow wondrously easy, for Tom slaved at his lessons in order to make sure of his note to the schoolmaster.

He was naturally active and strong, and quick of eye and hand, and had the advantage of light shoes and well-fitting dress, so that in a short time he could run and jump and climb with any of them. They generally finished their regular games half an hour or so before tea-time, and then began trials of skill and strength in many ways. Some of them would catch the Shetland pony who was turned out in the field, and get two or three together on his back, and the little rogue, enjoying the fun, would gallop off for fifty yards, and then turn round, or stop short and shoot them on to the turf, and then graze quietly on till he felt another load; others played peg-top or marbles, while a few of the bigger ones stood up for a bout at wrestling.

Tom at first only looked on at this pastime, but it had peculiar attractions for him, and he could not long keep out of it. Elbow and collar wrestling as practised in the western counties was, next to back-swording, the way to fame for the youth of the Vale; and all the boys knew the rules of it, and were more or less expert. But Job Rudkin and Harry Winburn were the stars, the former stiff and sturdy, with legs like small towers, the latter pliant as india-rubber, and quick as lightning.

Day after day they stood foot to foot, and offered first one hand and then the other, and grappled and closed and swayed and strained, till a well-aimed crook of the heel or thrust of the loin took effect, and a fair back-fall ended the matter. And Tom watched with all his eyes, and first challenged one of the less scientific, and threw him; and so one by one wrestled his way up to the leaders.

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Then indeed for months he had a poor time of it; it was not long indeed before he could manage to keep his legs against Job, for that hero was slow of offence, and gained his victories chiefly by allowing others to throw themselves against his immoveable legs and loins. But Harry Winburn was undeniably his master; from the first clutch of hands when they stood up, down to the last trip which sent him on his back on the turf, he felt that Harry knew more and could do more than he.

And the Squire might reply with a shake of his head, that his sons only mixed with their equals, and never went into the village without the governess or a footman. Great was the grief amongst the village school-boys when Tom drove off with the Squire, one August morning, to meet the coach on his way to school. He had given them all a great tea under the big elm in their playground, for which Madam Brown had supplied the biggest cake ever seen in our village; and Tom was really as sorry to leave them as they to lose him, but his sorrow was not unmixed with the pride and excitement of making a new step in life.

And this feeling carried him through his first parting with his mother better than could have been expected. Their love was as fair and whole as human love can be, perfect self-sacrifice on the one side, meeting a young and true heart on the other. It is not within the scope of my book, however, to speak of family relations, or I should have much to say on the subject of English mothers, — ay, and of English fathers, and sisters, and brothers too.

Neither have I room to speak of our private schools: It was a fair average specimen, kept by a gentleman, with another gentleman as second master; but it was little enough of the real work they did — merely coming into school when lessons were prepared and all ready to be heard. The whole discipline of the school out of lesson hours was in the hands of the two ushers, one of whom was always with the boys in their playground in the school, at meals — in fact, at all times and everywhere, till they were fairly in bed at night.

Now the theory of private schools is or was constant supervision out of school; therein differing fundamentally from that of public schools. It may be right or wrong; but if right, this supervision surely ought to be the especial work of the head-master, the responsible person. The object of all schools is not to ram Latin and Greek into boys, but to make them good English boys, good future citizens; and by far the most important part of that work must be done, or not done, out of school hours. To leave it, therefore, in the hands of inferior men, is just giving up the highest and hardest part of the work of education.

Were I a private schoolmaster, I should say, let who will hear the boys their lessons, but let me live with them when they are at play and rest. They were not bad men, but had little heart for their work, and of course were bent on making it as easy as possible. One of the methods by which they endeavoured to accomplish this, was by encouraging tale-bearing, which had become a frightfully common vice in the school in consequence, and had sapped all the foundations of school morality.

Another was, by favouring grossly the biggest boys, who alone could have given them much trouble; whereby those young gentlemen became most abominable tyrants, oppressing the little boys in all the small mean ways which prevail in private schools. Poor little Tom was made dreadfully unhappy in his first week, by a catastrophe which happened to his first letter home. With huge labour he had, on the very evening of his arrival, managed to fill two sides of a sheet of letter-paper with assurances of his love for dear mamma, his happiness at school, and his resolves to do all she would wish.

This missive, with the help of the boy who sat at the desk next him, also a new arrival, he managed to fold successfully; but this done, they were sadly, put to it for means of sealing. Envelopes were then unknown, they had no wax, and dared not disturb the stillness of the evening school-room by getting up and going to ask the usher for some. The idea of his mother waiting day after day for the letter he had promised her at once, and perhaps thinking him forgetful of her, when he had done all in his power to make good his promise, was as bitter a grief as any which he had to undergo for many a long year.

Hitting in the face was a felony punishable with flogging, other hitting only a misdemeanour — a distinction not altogether clear in principle. These half-holiday walks were the great events of the week. The whole fifty boys started after dinner with one of the ushers for Hazeldown, which was distant some mile or so from the school. Hazeldown measured some three miles round, and in the neighbourhood were several woods full of all manner of birds and butterflies. The usher walked slowly round the down with such boys as liked to accompany him; the rest scattered in all directions, being only bound to appear again when the usher had completed his round, and accompany him home.

Various were the amusements to which the boys then betook themselves. Then, all parties having provided themselves with many sods of turf, cut with their bread-and-cheese knives, the side which remained at the bottom proceeded to assault the mound, advancing upon all sides under cover of a heavy fire of turfs, and then struggling for victory with the occupants, which was theirs as soon as they could, even for a moment, clear the summit, when they in turn became the besieged.

It was a good rough dirty game, and of great use in counteracting the sneaking tendencies of the school. Then others of the boys spread over the downs, looking for the holes of humble-bees and mice, which they dug up without mercy, often I regret to say killing and skinning the unlucky mice, and I do not regret to say getting well stung by the humble-bees. Which reputation came to him in this wise. The boys went to bed at eight, and of course consequently lay awake in the dark for an hour or two, telling ghost-stories by turns. One night when it came to his turn, and he had dried up their souls by his story, he suddenly declared that he would make a fiery hand appear on the door; and to the astonishment and terror of the boys in his room, a hand, or something like it, in pale light, did then and there appear.

The fame of this exploit having spread to the other rooms, and being discredited there, the young necromancer declared that the same wonder would appear in all the rooms in turn, which it accordingly did; and the whole circumstances having been privately reported to one of the ushers as usual, that functionary, after listening about at the doors of the rooms, by a sudden descent caught the performer in his night-shirt, with a box of phosphorus in his guilty hand. He was a remarkable boy, and by no means a bad one.

Tom stuck to him till he left, and got into many scrapes by so doing. But he was the great opponent of the tale-bearing habits of the school, and the open enemy of the ushers; and so worthy of all support. It is very kind of the Doctor to allow it. Will you see that his things are all ready by Friday, when I shall take him up to town, and send him down the next day by himself. Brown was prepared for the announcement, and merely suggested a doubt whether Tom were yet old enough to travel by himself.

Tom and his father had arrived in town from Berkshire, the day before, and finding, on inquiry, that the Birmingham coaches which ran from the city did not pass through Rugby, but deposited their passengers at Dunchurch, a village three miles distant on the main road — where said passengers had to wait for the Oxford and Leicester coach in the evening, or to take a post-chaise — had resolved that Tom should travel down by the Tally-ho, which diverged from the main road and passed through Rugby itself. And as the Tally-ho was an early coach, they had driven out to the Peacock to be on the road.

Tom and his father had alighted at the Peacock at about seven in the evening, and having heard with unfeigned joy the paternal order at the bar, of steaks and oyster sauce for supper in half an hour, and seen his father seated cozily by the bright fire in the coffee-room with the paper in his hand — Tom had run out to see about him, had wondered at all the vehicles passing and repassing, and had fraternised with the boots and ostler, from whom he ascertained that the Tally-ho was a tip-top goer, ten miles an hour including stoppages and so punctual that all the road set their clocks by her.

Then being summoned to supper he had regaled himself in one of the bright little boxes of the Peacock coffee-room on the beef-steak and unlimited oyster-sauce and brown stout tasted then for the first time — a day to be marked for ever by Tom with a white stone ; had at first attended to the excellent advice which his father was bestowing on him from over his glass of steaming brandy and water, and then begun nodding from the united effects of the stout, the fire, and the lecture.

Tom was carried off by the chambermaid in a brown study, from which he was roused in a clean little attic by that buxom person calling him a little darling, and kissing him as she left the room, which indignity he was too much surprised to resent. All the way up to London he had pondered what he should say to Tom by way of parting advice, something that the boy could keep in his head ready for use.

By way of assisting meditation, he had even gone the length of taking out his flint and steel and tinder, and hammering away for a quarter of an hour till he had manufactured a light for a long Trichinopoli cheroot, which he silently puffed; to the no small wonder of Coachee, who was an old friend, and an institution on the Bath road; and who always expected a talk on the prospects and doings, agricultural and social, of the whole county when he carried the Squire.

Never do for an old fellow to go into such things with a boy. Do him more harm than good, ten to one. What is he sent to school for? Well, partly because he wanted so to go. At ten minutes to three he was down in the coffee-room in his stockings, carrying his hat-box, coat, and comforter in his hand; and there he found his father nursing a bright fire and a cup of hot coffee and a hard biscuit on the table.

Tom addressed himself to the coffee, and prattled away while he worked himself into his shoes and his great-coat, well warmed through; a Petersham coat with velvet collar, made tight, after the abominable fashion of those days. Now then, sir, jump up behind. Up goes Tom, the guard catching his hat-box and holding on with one hand, while with the other he claps the horn to his mouth. I sometimes think that you boys of this generation are a deal tenderer fellows than we used to be. It was another affair altogether, a dark ride on the top of the Tally-ho, I can tell you, in a tight Petersham coat, and your feet dangling six inches from the floor.

Then you knew what cold was, and what it was to be without legs, for not a bit of feeling had you in them after the first half-hour. But it had its pleasures, the old dark ride. First there was the consciousness of silent endurance, so dear to every Englishman, — of standing out against something, and not giving in. Then the break of dawn and the sunrise; where can they be ever seen in perfection but from a coach roof? You want motion and change and music to see them in their glory; not the music of singing-men and singing-women, but good silent music, which sets itself in your own head the accompaniment of work and getting over the ground.

The Tally-ho is past St. Then he has been forward into the mysterious boy-future, speculating as to what sort of a place Rugby is, and what they do there, and calling up all the stories of public schools which he has heard from big boys in the holidays. And now the dawn breaks at the end of the fourth stage, and the coach pulls up at a little road-side inn with huge stables behind. There is a bright fire gleaming through the red curtains of the bar-window, and the door is open.

The coachman catches his whip into a double thong, and throws it to the ostler; the steam of the horses rises straight up into the air. He has put them along over the last two miles, and is two minutes before his time; he rolls down from the box and into the inn. The guard rolls off behind. Tom finds a difficulty in jumping, or indeed in finding the top of the wheel with his feet, which may be in the next world for all he feels; so the guard picks him off the coach-top, and sets him on his legs, and they stump off into the bar, and join the coachman and the other outside passengers.

Here a fresh-looking barmaid serves them each with a glass of early purl as they stand before the fire, coachman and guard exchanging business remarks. Toot-toot-tootle-too goes the horn, and away they are again, five-and-thirty miles on their road nearly half way to Rugby, thinks Tom , and the prospect of breakfast at the end of the stage. And now they begin to see, and the early life of the country-side comes out; a market cart or two, men in smock-frocks going to their work pipe in mouth, a whiff of which is no bad smell this bright morning.

The sun gets up, and the mist shines like silver gauze. Now they pull up at a lodge, and take on board a well-muffled-up sportsman, with his gun-case and carpet-bag. An early up-coach meets them, and the coachmen gather up their horses, and pass one another with the accustomed lift of the elbow, each team doing eleven miles an hour, with a mile to spare behind if necessary. And here comes breakfast. Have we not endured nobly this morning, and is not this a worthy reward for much endurance?

There is the low dark wainscoted room hung with sporting prints; the hat-stand with a whip or two standing up in it belonging to bagmen who are still snug in bed by the door; the blazing fire, with the quaint old glass over the mantelpiece, in which is stuck a large card with the list of the meets for the week of the county hounds. The table covered with the whitest of cloths and of china, and bearing a pigeon-pie, ham, round of cold boiled beef cut from a mammoth ox, and the great loaf of household bread on a wooden trencher.

And here comes in the stout head waiter, puffing under a tray of hot viands; kidneys and a steak, transparent rashers and poached eggs, buttered toast and muffins, coffee and tea, all smoking hot. The table can never hold it all; the cold meats are removed to the sideboard, they were only put on for show and to give us an appetite. And now fall on, gentlemen all. It is a well-known sporting-house, and the breakfasts are famous. Two or three men in pink, on their way to the meet, drop in, and are very jovial and sharp-set, as indeed we all are.

Our coachman, I perceive, who breakfasts with us, is a cold-beef man. He also eschews hot potations, and addicts himself to a tankard of ale, which is brought him by the barmaid. Sportsman looks on approvingly, and orders a ditto for himself. Tom has eaten kidney and pigeon-pie, and imbibed coffee, till his little skin is as tight as a drum; and then has the further pleasure of paying head waiter out of his own purse, in a dignified manner, and walks out before the inn door to see the horses put to. This is done leisurely and in a highly-finished manner by the ostlers, as if they enjoyed the not being hurried.

Coachman comes out with his way-bill, and puffing a fat cigar which the sportsman has given him. Guard emerges from the tap, where he prefers breakfasting, licking round a tough-looking doubtful cheroot, which you might tie round your finger, and three whiffs of which would knock any one else out of time.

The pinks stand about the inn door lighting cigars and waiting to see us start, while their hacks are led up and down the market-place on which the inn looks. They all know our sportsman, and we feel a reflected credit when we see him chatting and laughing with them. We clear the town, and are well out between the hedgerows again as the town clock strikes eight. The sun shines almost warmly, and breakfast has oiled all springs and loosened all tongues. Guard looks at him with a comical expression. Takes town a week to get clean after it. But slow place, sir, slow place: Belong to school, sir?

Hopes we shall have the pleasure of carrying you back. Tom said he hoped they would; but he thought within himself that his fate would probably be the Pig and Whistle. Let the Pats have it about the ears. Then Bob picks hisself up again, and looks at young gent on box werry solemn. Young gent on box picks hisself up, and so does we all, and looks round to count damage. He longed already for the end of the half, that he might join them. We was six mile from the town, when we meets an old square-headed grey-haired yeoman chap, a jogging along quite quiet.

He looks up at the coach, and just then a pea hits him on the nose, and some ketches his cob behind and makes him dance up on his hind legs. How that ere cob did step! At first the young gents was werry lively on him; but afore we got in, seeing how steady the old chap come on, they was quite quiet, and laid their heads together what they should do.

Some was for fighting, some for axing his pardon. And then they all got down and shook hands with the old boy, and asked him to all parts of the country, to their homes; and we drives off twenty minutes behind time, with cheering and hollering as if we was county members. Tom showed such undisguised and open-mouthed interest in his narrations, that the old guard rubbed up his memory, and launched out into a graphic history of all the performances of the boys on the road for the last twenty years. Was the guard hoaxing him? By the stone two boys stood, their jackets buttoned tight, waiting for the coach.

They come out about twice or three times a week, and spirts a mile alongside of us. And as they came up, sure enough, away went two boys along the footpath, keeping up with the horses; the first a light clean-made fellow going on springs, the other stout and round-shouldered, labouring in his pace, but going as dogged as a bull-terrier. Old Blow-hard looked on admiringly. They passed several more parties of boys, all of them objects of the deepest interest to Tom, and came in sight of the town at ten minutes before twelve.

Tom fetched a long breath, and thought he had never spent a pleasanter day. And he began already to be proud of being a Rugby boy, as he passed the school-gates, with the oriel-window above, and saw the boys standing there, looking as if the town belonged to them, and nodding in a familiar manner to the coachman, as if any one of them would be quite equal to getting on the box and working the team down street as well as he.

She wrote to me that you were coming to-day, and asked me to give you a lift. Only the louts wear caps. Tom thought his cap a very knowing affair, but confessed that he had a hat in his hat-box; which was accordingly at once extracted from the hind boot, and Tom equipped in his go-to-meeting roof, as his new friend called it.

Tom by this time began to be conscious of his new social position and dignities, and to luxuriate in the realized ambition of being a public-school boy at last, with a vested right of spoiling two seven-and-sixers in half a year. She gave me a half-a-sov. And Tom, notwithstanding his bumptiousness, felt friends with him at once, and began sucking in all his ways and prejudices, as fast as he could understand them.

East was great in the character of cicerone; he carried Tom through the great gates, where were only two or three boys. Where do you come from? How old are you? Where do you board? Tom followed his guide through the School-house hall, which opens into the quadrangle. It is a great room thirty feet long and eighteen high, or thereabouts, with two great tables running the whole length, and two large fireplaces at the side, with blazing fires in them, at one of which some dozen boys were standing and lounging, some of whom shouted to East to stop; but he shot through with his convoy, and landed him in the long dark passages, with a large fire at the end of each upon which the studies opened.

But it was uncommonly comfortable to look at, Tom thought. The space under the window at the further end was occupied by a square table covered with a reasonably clean and whole red and blue check table-cloth; a hard-seated sofa covered with red stuff occupied one side, running up to the end, and making a seat for one, or, by sitting close, for two, at the table; and a good stout wooden chair afforded a seat to another boy, so that three could sit and work together.

Over the door were a row of hat-pegs, and on each side bookcases with cupboards at the bottom; shelves and cupboards being filled indiscriminately with school-books, a cup or two, a mousetrap, and brass candlesticks, leather straps, a fustian bag, and some curious-looking articles, which puzzled Tom not a little, until his friend explained that they were climbing irons, and showed their use.

A cricket-bat and small fishing-rod stood up in one corner. This was the residence of East and another boy in the same form, and had more interest for Tom than Windsor Castle, or any other residence in the British Isles. For was he not about to become the joint owner of a similar home, the first place which he could call his own? What a charm there is in the words! How long it takes boy and man to find out their worth!

When shall we learn that he who multiplieth possessions multiplieth troubles, and that the one single use of things which we call our own is that they may be his who hath need of them? And now Tom for the first time saw his future school-fellows in a body. And a great big-bearded man, whom Tom took for a master, began calling over the names, while the great joints were being rapidly carved on a third table in the corner by the old verger and the housekeeper.

And all this part where we are is the little side-ground, right up to the trees, and on the other side of the trees is the big side-ground, where the great matches are played. East was evidently putting his best foot foremost, and Tom, who was mighty proud of his running, and not a little anxious to show his friend that although a new boy he was no milksop, laid himself down to the work in his very best style. He had been struck by this peculiarity in the costume of almost all the School-house boys. Our house plays the whole of the School at football.

And tell me about it. I love football so, and have played all my life. Quite another thing from your private school games. And last year a fellow had his leg broken. Tom listened with the profoundest respect to this chapter of accidents, and followed East across the level ground till they came to a sort of gigantic gallows of two poles eighteen feet high, fixed upright in the ground some fourteen feet apart, with a cross bar running from one to the other at the height of ten feet or thereabouts.

Well, the match is for the best of three goals; whichever side kicks two goals wins: Then we fellows in quarters, we play just about in front of goal here, and have to turn the ball and kick it back before the big fellows on the other side can follow it up. And then whoever first touches it, has to knock it straight out amongst the players-up, who make two lines with a space between them, every fellow going on his own side.

They joined the boys who had brought it out, all small School-house fellows, friends of East; and Tom had the pleasure of trying his skill, and performed very creditably, after first driving his foot three inches into the ground, and then nearly kicking his leg into the air, in vigorous efforts to accomplish a drop-kick after the manner of East.

Presently more boys and bigger came out, and boys from other houses on their way to calling-over, and more balls were sent for. Then the balls were held, the master of the week came down in cap and gown to calling-over, and the whole school of three hundred boys swept into the big school to answer to their names. The fifth form behind them, twice their number and not quite so big. Some of the sixth stop at the door to turn the whole string of boys into the close; it is a great match day, and every boy in the school, will-he, nill-he, must be there. The rest of the sixth go forwards into the close, to see that no one escapes by any of the side gates.

That little band on the left, consisting of from fifteen to twenty boys, Tom amongst them, who are making for the goal under the School-house wall, are the School-house boys who are not to play-up, and have to stay in goal. The larger body moving to the island goal, are the school-boys in a like predicament. The great mass in the middle are the players-up, both sides mingled together; they are hanging their jackets, and, all who mean real work, their hats, waistcoats, neck-handkerchiefs, and braces, on the railings round the small trees; and there they go by twos and threes up to their respective grounds.

Spanking Goals & Toe Pokes: Football Sayings Explained

There is none of the colour and tastiness of get-up, you will perceive, which lends such a life to the present game at Rugby, making the dullest and worst-fought match a pretty sight. Now each house has its own uniform of cap and jersey, of some lively colour: And now that the two sides have fairly sundered, and each occupies its own ground, and we get a good look at them what absurdity is this?

The new ball you may see lie there quite by itself, in the middle, pointing towards the school or island goal; in another minute it will be well on its way there. Use that minute in remarking how the School-house side is drilled. You will see in the first place, that the sixth-form boy, who has the charge of goal, has spread his force the goal-keepers so as to occupy the whole space behind the goal-posts, at distances of about five yards apart; a safe and well-kept goal is the foundation of all good play.

Old Brooke is talking to the captain of quarters; and now he moves away; see how that youngster spreads his men the light brigade carefully over the ground, half-way between their own goal and the body of their own players-up the heavy brigade. And on each side of old Brooke, who is now standing in the middle of the ground and just going to kick off, you see a separate wing of players-up, each with a boy of acknowledged prowess to look to — here Warner, and there Hedge; but over all is old Brooke, absolute as he of Russia, but wisely and bravely ruling over willing and worshipping subjects, a true football king.

His face is earnest and careful as he glances a last time over his array, but full of pluck and hope, the sort of look I hope to see in my general when I go out to fight.

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The School side is not organized in the same way. Old Brooke takes half-a-dozen quick steps, and away goes the ball spinning towards the School goal; seventy yards before it touches ground, and at no point above twelve or fifteen feet high, a model kick-off; and the School-house cheer and rush on; the ball is returned, and they meet it and drive it back amongst the masses of the School already in motion. Then the two sides close, and you can see nothing for minutes but a swaying crowd of boys, at one point violently agitated.

That is where the ball is, and there are the keen players to be met, and the glory and the hard knocks to be got: My dear sir, a battle would look much the same to you, except that the boys would be men, and the balls iron; but a battle would be worth your looking at for all that, and so is a football match. Come along with me a little nearer, and let us consider it together. The ball has just fallen again where the two sides are thickest, and they close rapidly around it in a scrummage; it must be driven through now by force or skill, till it flies out on one side or the other.

Look how differently the boys face it! Here come two of the bull-dogs, bursting through the outsiders; in they go, straight to the heart of the scrummage, bent on driving that ball out on the opposite side. That is what they mean to do. My sons, my sons! Here comes young Brooke; he goes in as straight as you, but keeps his head, and backs and bends, holding himself still behind the ball, and driving it furiously when he gets the chance. Take a leaf out of his book, you young chargers. Here come Speedicut, and Flashman the School-house bully, with shouts and great action.

Then the boys who are bending and watching on the outside, mark them — they are most useful players, the dodgers; who seize on the ball the moment it rolls out from amongst the chargers, and away with it across to the opposite goal; they seldom go into the scrummage, but must have more coolness than the chargers: Three-quarters of an hour are gone; first winds are failing, and weight and numbers beginning to tell. Yard by yard the School-house have been driven back, contesting every inch of ground. The bull-dogs are the colour of mother earth from shoulder to ankle, except young Brooke, who has a marvellous knack of keeping his legs.

The Doctor and some of his family are there looking on, and seem as anxious as any boy for the success of the School-house. He stands with the ball in his hand, while the two sides form in deep lines opposite one another: The lines are thickest close to him, but young Brooke and two or three of his men are shifting up further, where the opposite line is weak. Old Brooke strikes it out straight and strong, and it falls opposite his brother. There they go straight for the School goal-posts, quarters scattering before them. One after another the bull-dogs go down, but young Brooke holds on.

And now he is close to the School goal, the ball not three yards before him. There is a hurried rush of the School fags to the spot, but no one throws himself on the ball, the only chance, and young Brooke has touched it right under the School goal-posts. The School leaders come up furious, and administer toco to the wretched fags nearest at hand: Old Brooke of course will kick it out, but who shall catch and place it? Here he comes, sauntering along with a straw in his mouth, the queerest, coolest fish in Rugby: Old Brooke stands with the ball under his arm motioning the School back; he will not kick-out till they are all in goal, behind the posts; they are all edging forwards, inch by inch, to get nearer for the rush at Crab Jones, who stands there in front of old Brooke to catch the ball.

If they can reach and destroy him before he catches, the danger is over; and with one and the same rush they will carry it right away to the School-house goal. Crab strikes his heel into the ground, to mark the spot where the ball was caught, beyond which the School line may not advance; but there they stand, five deep, ready to rush the moment the ball touches the ground. Take plenty of room! Trust Crab Jones — he has made a small hole with his heel for the ball to lie on, by which he is resting on one knee, with his eye on old Brooke. Tom indeed is excited beyond measure, and it is all the sixth-form boy, kindest and safest of goal-keepers, has been able to do, to keep him from rushing out whenever the ball has been near their goal.

Its still a good saying when a blonde tries to convince you of something. I told a fetching young lass at an auto auction that there was so much activity that I thought their website might crash as it was slowing. I say God Bless It! I have no idea where that came from. What about your friend? I hear that phrase regularly, both sarcastically and sympathetically, and have heard it all over the south.

Thankfully, neither iteration has been directed to me personally! I say it a lot to. I from the southeast corner of Bama and now live in oklahoma. STILL hear that and say it all the time. Here in my little neck of the woods in Florida. Bless your heart has a double meaning also. It could be a passive aggressive insult or it could be a genuine term of endearment depending on who it is and what it pertains to.

Are you sure paul? I live in Alabama and work at a hospital. The difference in a yankee and a damn yankee: A yankee visits the south; a damn yankee moves to the south. My interpretation is that a Yankee is someone from the north but a damn Yankee is someone from the north who comes to the South to tell us all how terrible we are. I must be a damn southerner. Because I was born and raised in the Southern United States and constantly tell the hicks of the south how terrible they are.

I lived at fort Gordon Georgia, got called yank by cigar smoking taxi drivers. I also loved making love to the stripper in augusta named cupcake. One of my favorite advertising tag lines and one I have quoted a lot recently as FL is flooded by carpet bagging politicians….

Martin, T. J. (Tommy)

I loved the south as a northern boy who enlisted. I would have spent my days there, but uncle Sam sent me to Europe for 2. Almost as bad as damn Yankees. I was going to say that, but you beat me to it. Thank you for correcting this Dr. Most Yankees of us use these Southern phrases because we lack the heritage that allows for us to do so. Just as long as they leave their politics behind, maybe it will be OK. Start trying to mess with our gun rights or anything else messing with our freedom they can GTFO. Some of us WANT to move down south because of your rights!

But, family and honoring our parents are more honoring to the Lord. Well, lemme tell you. Bein form Ohio an livin for almost 40 years in Alabama, I kin answer the kweshun like this: There is some folks whose mamma an poppa, an aunts an cuzzins, an unkles an others was born in the south an lived here all their lifes. Nothing worse than a New Yorker moving down here to escape the taxes and other leftist lunacy, and then voting for the same kind of idiots that caused him to have to flee in the first place. Um, speak for yourself please…. Yanks have plenty of heritage and phrases…ever been to Pittsburgh?

Yins would have a great time…. No intent to offend. No offense taken at all Doc. Just offered it for those that could be offended. That is the expression you know. As had been stated, other folks use other endings — bull, goldfish, etc. Reminds me of a saying my dad uses regularly.. Never heard it with the boar hog ending. I think it is sub- regional the south is a big place. I would assume it has to do with prominent livestock historically in the region. A lot of it is familial I think. His dad grew up in Arkansas and mom in Louisiana where a boar hog would be more prevalent.

Boar hog in north ga. After sixty-four years of mostly southern living, I have to agree with Todd. I have only heard the phrase reference a boar hog. There are two expressions that I have heard thousands of times that I would add: My family is from Arkansas and Oklahoma, and my wife is from Texas. And all Medicine is aspirin to her. New Bern, North Carolina, to be exact. If you wanted a Coke you asked for a Coke. It could be a Dr. How hospitality is connected to Coke or Pepsi being interchangeable is beyond me. If you think someone is stupid for doing things their way, I have nothing to convince you of.

People are from different areas, they say different things. People are different, and not stupid for being so. A part of being hospitable is being friendly and nice. The beginning of this exchange is the opposite of that. Yes, I called you a dummy and a jackass. You are just arguing with yourself anyway and have way too much intellect for a dumb ole southerner like myself. Have a nice life now…ya hear. I knew it result to name calling eventually. People usually resort to arguing like a child and not debating the point.

And no matter how many names you call me, I only have to answer to what I want to. People in GA certainly know the difference. I was arguing that the waitress is not a dimwit because she asks for clarification. Because she may not use Coke to be synonymous as a carbonate beverage. I would imagine if they brought a Pepsi to someone that ordered a Coke, they would be unhappy. They do not taste alike, ya know? North Florida and I still do it. The lady said we only have Pepsi products. I said I just mean a hotdog and a soda.

The fact I had to translate means she was from someplace else. Suprisingly, i have heard most of these terms alot growing up. I myself work in retail, and when people ask how i am, i am finer than a frogs hair! I guess depending on which part of the neighborhood your from it differs. Bless it is more of a loving term, where bless your heart is more of calling you dumb, haha.

My mammaw would say that anytime we acted up. You can fix breakfast the same way you can prepare breakfast, so by analogy can you not be fixing to go in the same manner by which you can prepare to go? Lifelong Southerner here and I agree with Todd as well. Looks like she was beat with an ugly stick Climbed an ugly tree and hit every limb on the way down Looks like they set her face on fire and beat it out with a logging chain.

These cracked me up. I heard that in basic training in We in the south happen to like our sayings. Come on down and visit. Sat a spell and see some of our southern hospitality. The mark of a true southern lady: She would scare the buzzards off a gut wagon. Flatter than a pancake. I used to say that all the time. I have been to 42 states and lived in many of them. Of your listed things, I heard all my life growing up in Ohio and Florida; they are not southern phrases, they are American coloquialisms.

They are said all over the country. I have been living in Georgia for the last 12 years, and have never heard 9,10,11, or Regarding passive-aggressive behavior in Southern women: I had never seen this before moving to the south. Where I had grown up, in Ohio, California, and Florida, people are pretty straight-forward or blatantly evasive. Southern women have mastered the art of the veiled insult. I had to live here for a few years before I understood that. Many Southern women actually have no idea how condescending they are being. Her efforts to be nice like a good Christian lady should turned out extremely condescending to people she thought of as beneath her.

The sayings are spot on, not ridiculous. And Southerners pay as much attention to history as anyone. I agree with you, Georgia girl. It makes us sound like we are uneducated idiots. I wonderful place to visit, but too COLD! My MawMa used that one. For you Yankees who apparently need a translator to figure out what is quiet logical, that one refers to closing the door to preserve air conditioning.

Busier than a one legged man in a butt kicking contest more nervous than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs more excited than a dog in a hubcap factory. They used to require farmers to burn these animals to prevent the spread of disease. One that is in the piece and two that is a piece of crap. Yes it has been used as a passive aggressive slight because no one is perfect but most often it is intended in compassion.

The Mason-Dixon line is the boundary between Pennsylvania and Maryland. Both of those states remained within the Union. To suggest that the Mason-Dixon line was the boundary between Union and Confederate states is confused at best. Uneducated, you mean, I love a how piece intended to show how dumb we are is full of historical inaccuracies. It is an expression of sympathy. Obviously it takes a hot fire to burn a wet mule so you needed a lot of oil which was taxed so that took a lot of money.

It could be a Mountain Dew, Pepsi, Dr. Peanuts in an RC Cola and a moon pie is another southern thing we do here too. Oh man, I miss peanuts in coke…back when the vending machine still dispensed real glass bottles. I never put peanuts in RC Cola, but just Coke. And my great granddaddy always gave us moon pies and we ate them while drinking an RC Cola. I do miss eating boiled peanuts and real Brunswick stew from SE Alabama. How about a follow up article on how northerners destroy the English language by inserting letters in words that are not there because they obviously are too uneducated to read ….

What the hell is a samrich??? Simply prejudiced article that is unacceptable journalism.

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My advice, as a Celtic Brit, living in Japan would be to stay at home Mr. Most of these are not southern, they are just country. I grew up in Ohio and my Grandpa said these all the time and he grew up in Illinois. There are only a couple of phrases here that are distinctly southern.

The rest are common throughout the country.