LIFF THROWS CURVEBALLS

. . . and we’re back. After a couple weeks of technical difficulties, everything appears to be functioning smoothly, at least for the moment. To celebrate TBP’s nontriumphant return, I’m offering up a few made-up words in the spirit of the Meaning of Liff. These are all based on place names in the midwest.

ashippun (ASH-ip-unn) n. An avoidable collision of two or more toddlers.
cleghorn (CLEGG-hohrn) n. A white-frosted cake doughnut which has sat undisturbed in a break room for more than forty-eight hours. Alt.: any uneaten Danish pastry which may or may not be prune-filled.
clontarf (CLAHN-tarf) n. Any sound made by a human who is attempting to communicate with a dog in the dog’s native language.
exline (EKS-line) v. To reject a romantic partner because he or she used a phrase which was also used by a previous lover.
gratiot (GRASH-it) n. An omelet filled with three or more leftover foodstuffs not normally combined; e.g., chili, asparagus, and cranberry sauce.
hesper (HESS-pur) v. To loudly assert the impending arrival of an event you know is not actually going to occur.

AHA!

Remember this post, where I railed about the misuse of the phrase “x games below .500″ in sports discussion?

Well, check out this passage from this week’s TMQ:

Next on the list of parity myths is the claim that there are far more teams in the middle now than before. In 2006, 21 of the 32 teams (66 percent) finished in the middle at 6-10, 7-9, 8-8, 9-7 or 10-6 — at .500 or two games above or below. (Emphasis added.)

There you have it. A Brookings scholar says 6-10 is two games–not four–below .500. Vindication!

THIS POST IS BELOW .500

So last night I was watching the local sports when the announcer said that the Milwaukee Brewers’ road record this year is 25-52. Deplorable. Also typical. What the dude said next, though, completely set me off.

You know it can’t be anything to do with baseball. I don’t care about baseball. No, what had me steaming was when he said that the Brewers were “27 games below .500 on the road.” You hear this all the time. It’s one of those basic sports equations: Losses - Wins = Number of games below .500. 52 - 25 = 27. Right?

If only it were true.

Recalling that a .500 winning percentage means the number of wins and losses are equal, it’s easy to see how that particular equation is dead wrong, particularly in a sport where (except for the 2002 All Star Game) ties aren’t possible. Every game ends in either a win or a loss. Therefore, determine how far a team is below .500, you must determine how many game results must be changed to get an equal number of wins and losses.

The catch is that, since the number of games played remains constant, that means every time you change one number, the other number changes too. Let’s try it, using the 2006 Brewers’ road record as an example. We start with their actual record of 25-52. Now let’s change one loss at a time into a win and see how many steps it take to get the wins above the losses.

Well, would you look at that! We only have to change 13.5 game results to get the Brewers to .500! So how can you say the Brew Crew is 27 below .500 on the road? The real answer is that they’re 13.5 games below .500 on the road. That’s still not good, but it’s not nearly as depressing.

It works the other way, too. You’ll hear an NFL team which finishes 10-6 described as “4 games above .500″ but the real number is only 2. See? Things in sports are never as bad (or as good) as they seem at first glance. Even if Temple goes 0-for-2006, the worst they can finish is 6 games below .500.

IT’S ALSO WHAT NICK SABAN SAYS IN HIS SLEEP

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

CLEAN LANGUAGE

Just a quick question for the Tuesday noon hour: When you have moved just-laundered clothes from the washing machine to the dryer, is it still appropriate to refer to those clothes as “the wash” even though they’ve already been washed? If not, what should you call them?