extension topic assignment 11
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EXTENSION TOPIC. SPORTS
I. Read the following texts, learn the words and word-combinations in italics and use them when making a summary of each text (written). Consult the Supplementary Topical List for translation.
1
As Jane Collins walked out on to the court behind her husband, she felt once more the private, strong thrill of pride that had moved her again and again in the time she had known him. Jane and Stewart had been married six years, but, even so, as she watched him stride before her in that curious upright, individual, half-proud, half-comic walk, like a Prussian drill sergeant on his Sunday off, Jane felt the same mixture of amusement and delight in him that had touched her so strongly when they first met. Stewart was tall and broad and his face was moody and good-humored and original, and Jane felt that even at a distance of five hundred yards and surrounded by a crowd of people, she could pick him out unerringly. Now, in well-cut white trousers and a long-sleeved Oxford shirt, he seemed elegant and a little old-fashioned among the other players, and he looked graceful and debonair as he hit the first few shots in the preliminary rallying.
Jane was sensibly dressed, in shorts and tennis shirt, and her hair was imprisoned in a bandanna, so that it wouldn't get into her eyes. She knew that the shorts made her look a little dumpy and that the handkerchief around her head gave her a rather skinned and severe appearance, and she had a slight twinge of female regret when she looked across the net and saw Eleanor Burns soft and attractive in a prettily cut tennis dress and with a red ribbon in her hair, but she fought it down and concentrated on keeping her eye on the ball as Mr. Croker, Eleanor's partner, sliced it back methodically at her.
Mr. Croker, a vague, round, serious little man, was a neighbour of the Collinses' hosts...
Stewart hit a tremendous overhead smash, whipping all the strength of his long body into it, and the ball struck the ground at Eleanor's feet and slammed high in the air. He grinned...
"Jane, darling," he said, grinning, as he walked to the other side, "we are going to be sensational today."
They won the first set with no trouble. Stewart played very well. He moved around the court swiftly and easily, hitting the ball hard in loose, well-coached strokes, with an almost exaggerated grace. Again and again, the people watching applauded or called out after one of his shots, and he waved his racket, smiling at them, and said, "Oh, we're murderous today..."
The first three games were ludicrously one-sided. Stewart stormed the net, made sizzling, malicious shots to Crocker's feet...
Jane played as usual steady, undeviating, as predictably and sensibly as she always played...
Croker suddenly began to play very well, making sharp, sliding, slicing shots that again and again forced Steward and Jane into errors. It was Croker's and Eleanor's game. Jane kept remembering the shot that had become the turning point of the set. Stewart had not been able to resist the gallant gesture, especially when Eleanor had been standing so close, watching it all. It was just like Stewart. Jane shook her head determinedly, trying to concentrate on the game. This was no time to start dissecting her husband. They had had a lovely week-end till now and Stewart had been wonderful, gay and funny and loving, and criticism could at least be reserved for weekdays, when everything else was dreary, too. But it was just like Stewart. It was awful how everything he did was all of a piece. His whole life was crowded with gestures. Hitting his boss that time in the boss's own office with three secretaries watching, because the boss had bawled him out. Giving up his R. О. Т. C. 1 commission and going into the Army as a private in 1942. Giving five thousand dollars, just about the last of their savings, to Harry Mather, for Mather's business, just because they had been to school together, when everyone knew Mather had become a hopeless drunk and none of his other friends would chip in.
To an outsider, all these might seem the acts of a generous and rather noble character, but to a wife, caught in the consequences...
Stewart ended the next rally by hitting the ball into the net. He stared unhappily at the ground. "The least they might do," he said in a low voice to Jane, "is roll the court if they invite people to play on it."
Please, Stewie, Jane begged within herself, don't do it. The alibis. The time he forgot to sign the lease for the apartment and they were put out and he blamed it on the lawyer, and the time he lost the job in Chicago and it was because he had gone to the wrong college, and the time... By a vigorous act of will, Jane froze her eyes on the ball, kept her mind blank as she hit it back methodically again and again...
Stewart looked as pretty and expert as ever as he played, but he lost point after point.
"What a way to play tennis," he grumbled, with his back to his opponents. "Why doesn't he play ping-pong or jacks?"
"You can't slam those dinky little shots like that," Jane said. "You have to get them back soft."
"You play your game," Stewart said, "and I'll play mine."
"Sorry," Jane said. Oh, Stewart, she mourned within her...
I can't help it, Jane thought. This is the way he is. Form above everything. If he were hanging over a cliff, he'd let himself fall to the rocks below rather than risk being ungraceful climbing to safety to save his life. He always has to pick up the check in bars and restaurants, no matter whom he is with or how many guests there are at the table, always with some lordly, laughing, slightly derisive manner, even if we are down to our last fifty dollars. And when they had people in to dinner, there had to be two maids to wait on table, and French wines, and there always had to be those special bottles of brandy that cost as much as a vacation in the country. And he became so cold and remote when Jane argued with him about it, reminding him they were not rich and there was no sense in pretending they were. And his shoes. She blinked her eyes painfully, getting a sudden vision, there in the sun and shadow, of the long row of exquisite shoes, at seventy dollars a pair, that he insisted upon having made to his order. How ridiculous, she thought, to allow yourself to be unnerved at your husband's taste in shoes, and she loyally reminded herself how much a part of his attraction it had been in the beginning that he was always so beautifully dressed and so easy and graceful and careless of money.
The score was 4-3 in favour of Eleanor and Croker. Stewart's shots suddenly began to work again, and he and Jane took the next game with ease. Stewart's grin came back then. But after winning the first two points of the next game he missed the base-line and they eventually lost the game.
I will make no deductions from this, Jane told herself stonily ... Anybody is liable to miss a few shots like that — anybody. And yet, how like Stewart! Just when it was most important to be steady and dependable... The time she'd been so sick and the maid had quit, and Jane lay, broken and miserable, in bed for three weeks, with no one to take care of her except Stewart... He had been charming and thoughtful for the first week, fixing her meals, reading to her, sitting at her side for hours on end, cheerful and obliging, making her illness gently tolerable. And then he had suddenly grown nervous and abrupt, made vague excuses to leave her alone, and vanished for hours at a time, only to come back and hastily attend to her for a few moments and vanish again, leaving her there in the rumpled bed, staring, lonely and shaken, at the ceiling as dusk faded into night and night into morning. She had been sure there was another girl then and she had resolved that when she was well and able to move around again, she would come to some decision with him, but as unpredictably as his absences had begun, they stopped. Once more he was tender and helpful, once more he sat at her side and nursed her and cheered her, and out of gratitude and love she had remained quiet and pushed her doubts deep to the back of her mind...
And here they were again, in the middle of a holiday afternoon, foolishly, in this most unlikely place, during this mild pointless game, with half a dozen people lazily watching, laughing and friendly...
She looked at him a few moments later, handsome and dear and familiar at her side, and he grinned back at her, and she was ashamed of herself for the thoughts that had been flooding through her brain. It was that silly girl on the other side of the net who had started it all, she thought. That practiced, obvious, almost automatic technique of flattering the male sex. That meaningless rather pitiful flirtatiousness. It was foolish to allow it to throw her into the bitter waters of reflection. Marriage, after all, was an up-and-down affair and in many ways a fragile and devious thing, and was not to be examined too closely. Marriage was not a bank.statement or a foreign policy or an X-ray photograph in a doctor's hand. You took it and lived through it, and maybe, a long time later—perhaps the day before you died— you totaled up the accounts, if you were of that turn of mind, but not before. And if you were a reasonable, sensible, mature woman, you certainly didn't do your additions and subtractions on a tennis court every time your husband hit a ball into the net. Jane smiled at herself and shook her head...
Jane was at the net and she heard the sharp twang of Stewart's racket hitting the ball behind her... He had just missed his first service.
Jane didn't dare look around. She could feel Stewart walking into place, in that stiff-backed, pleasant way of his, and feel him shuffling around nervously, and she couldn't look back. Please, she thought, please, get this one in. Helplessly, she thought of all the times when, just at the crucial moment, he had failed. Oh, God, this is silly, she thought. I mustn't do this... no, she thought, I mustn't. He isn't really like that. He's so intelligent and talented and good, he can go so far. She must not make this terrible judgement on her husband just because of the way he played tennis. And yet, his tennis was so much like his life. Gifted, graceful, powerful, showy, flawed, erratic...
Please, she thought, make this one good. Childishly, she felt, if this one is good it will be a turning point, a symbol, his whole life will be different. She hated herself for her thoughts and stared blankly at Eleanor, self-consciously alert and desirable in her pretty dress.
Why the hell did she have to come here this Sunday? Jane thought despairingly.
She heard the crack of the racket behind her...
"Too bad." She turned and smiled at Stewart, holplessly feeling herself beginning to wonder how she would manage to find the six weeks it would take in Reno.2 She shook her head, knowing that she wasn't going to Reno, but knowing, too, that the word would pass through her thoughts again and again, more and more frequently, with growing insistence, as the days went by.
She walked off the court with Stewart, holding his hand.
"The shadows," Stewart was saying. "Late in the afternoon, like this. It's impossible to see the service line." "Yes, dear," Jane said.
(From "Mixed Doubles" by I. Shaw. Abridged)
2
Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long coach and she read aloud to him from The Saturday Evening Post— the words, murmurous and uninfected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamp-light, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms.
When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.
"To be continued," she said, tossing the magazine on the table, "in our very next issue."
Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up.
"Ten o'clock," she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. "Time for this good girl to go to bed."
"Jordan's going to play in the tournament tomorrow," explained Daisy, "over at Westchester."
"Oh — you're Jordan Baker." I knew now why her face was familiar — its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.
"Good night," she said softly. "Wake me at eight, won't you?"
"If you'll get up."
"I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you again."
"Of course you will," confirmed Daisy. "In fact, I think I'll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I'll sort of-oh-fling you together. You know — lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing "
"Good night," called Miss Baker from the stairs. "I haven't heard a word."
"She's a nice girl," said Tom after a moment. "They oughtn't to let her run around the country this way." "Who oughtn't to?" inquired Daisy coldly. "Her family."
"Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick's going to look after her, aren't you, Nick? She's going to spend lots of week-ends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her."
For a while I lost sight of Jordan Baker, and then in midsummer I found her again. At first I was flattered to go places with her, because she was a golf champion, and everyone knew her name. Then it was something more. I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity. The bored haughty face that she turned to the world concealed something—most affectations conceal something eventually, even though they don't in the beginning—and one day I found what it was. When we were on a house-party together up in Warwick, she left a borrowed car out in the rain with the top down, and then lied about it — and suddenly I remembered the story about her that had eluded me that night at Daisy's. At her first big golf tournament there was a row that nearly reached the newspapers — a suggestion that she had moved her ball from a bad lie3in the semifinal round. The thing approached the proportions of a scandal — then died away. A caddy 4 retracted his statement, and the only other witness admitted that he might have been mistaken. The incident and the name had remained together in my mind.
Jordan Baker instinctively avoided clever, shrewd men, and now I saw that this was because she felt safer on a plane where any divergence from a code would be thought impossible. She was incurably dishonest...
It made no difference to me. Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply — I was casually sorry, and then I forgot...
Her gray, sun-strained eyes stared streight ahead, but she had deliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself definitely out of that tangle back home. I'd been writing letters once a week and signing them: "Love, Nick,"and all I could think of was how, when that certain girl played tennis, a faint mustache of perspiration appeared on her upper lip. Nevertheless there was a vague understanding that had to be tactfully broken off before I was free.
Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known.
(From "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald)
6
There are many reasons, some perhaps even sentimental rather than reasoned ones. When I won the Grand Prix des Frontieres in 1952 and had quite unexpectedly been placed in the Grand Prix of Europe, a professional racing driver's career was certainly wide open to me. But at that time I was already 35 years old and was a professional journalist enjoying, I think, a certain afnount of esteem and had a comfortable living. Last but not least I had three children. Becoming a racing driver would have meant sacrificing all the painstaking work which had led to the position I then held, in return for six or seven seasons of racing, after which I would no doubt have found myself completely without roots. It also meant taking risks which would multiply with the number of races in which I was to take part and which my responsibilities to my family would certainly not have warranted. Furthermore, in my lifetime I had only succeded in any enterprise which I had undertaken on my own initiative and in which I was my own guide and master. For me, taking part in a race had always been an occasion. I loved to pick my races, ignoring those which did not appeal to me or in which I considered that my chances would be small. Part of my pleasure has always been in the preparations for a race, thinking of it for several days ahead and reliving it for a long time afterwards. All these pleasures and satisfactions, and all my independence too, would have to have been renounced in taking the decision to become a professional driver obliged, either by the manufacturer or by financial pressure, to take part in the greatest possible number of races.
I also think that, basically, I am of a sporting character. More or less assiduously I keep up my tennis, snow and water skiing, athletics and sculling, at which I have been national champion and formed part of an international team. I have taken part in all forms of motor cycling sport; but I have always looked upon sport as a necessary physical and mental exercise, never as an end in itself. There was no reason why I should look upon motor sport any differently since it is so harmoniously combined my love of sport and my enthusiasm for cars and engineering in general.
Like so many young men I considered myself a good driver; I thought that with a bit of practice I too would be able to hold my own in a big race. When I made my racing debut, my main motive was to prove to myself, and let us be frank, perhaps also to others, that I actually did have the ability. Probably my biggest surprise came when I first found myself at the wheel of a real racing car, and discovered how much I still had to learn. Later this was brought home to me even more when I got on to really fast cars, or listening to the advice of experienced drivers and subsequently following them round the circuit.
It is of little interest to me now that there are people who speculate as to which rung of the ladder I would have attained if I had resolutely plundged into this career. I have followed the road which best suited my ambitions and my character. I have proved what I set out to prove; from my racing, from my driving of some of the most fascinating cars of a
glorious epoch of automobile sport, I have obtained all the satisfaction for which I hoped, and much more too.
(From "Starting Grid to Chequered Flag" by Paul Frere)
4
He let her come to the fight in Hollywood the night he fought Kid Fuente, the Indian, because he knew how much she wanted to see him in the ring. He got her a ringside seat and after the fight she told him she had sat next to Robert Taylor and Barbara Stanwyck and they had been very nice to her...
He remembered the fight because she had talked about it so much. It was six rounds. He was almost out in the forth. She had known it and kept talking around it, but one day she said, "I almost cried." ..."I was so excited. He was fighting hard and you were in a corner and everybody stood up and was yelling. I thought he was hitting me."
He remembered being in the corner, taking a lot of bad ones 5not being able to do anything about them...
He kept trying to move away, but there was nowhere to go, and all of a sudden the Indian slowed down, he was tired...
The bell saved the Indian, but for the rest of the fight the Indian was no good, and he knocked him down once in each of the last two rounds...
"You looked fine," she said, "and you didn't look sore. Don't you get sore?"
"Sore?" he said. "Who's there to get sore at? That poor Indian is only out to earn a little money, the same as me. He's got nothing against me and I've got nothing against him. If he can floor me, he's going to do it, and if I can floor him, I'm going to do it."
After seeing the fight with Kid Fuente she didn't want to see any more. The day of a fight she would be sick, sick in bed, and she would pray ... And when he'd come home he'd find her pale and sick and almost in tears. He would hold her in his arms a long time, and he would hear her heart pounding, and little by little it would slow down to almost normal, and then he would hold her at arm's length and look into her eyes and she would be smiling and then he would say, "It only means fifty dollars extra, baby, but I won."
And she'd know there was no vanity in him, she'd understand what he was talking about... She would rush around in an apron and fool around with food and dishes and put the stuff on the table...
When he came home from the fight with Sammy Kaufman of New York he was pretty badly hurt. His head was heavy, his lips were swollen, his left eye was twitching, every muscle of his body was sore, and he was swearing all the time, even though it had been a good fight and a draw.
He wasn't mean to her that night, and she said, uJoe, please give it up. You can make money some other way. We don't need a lot of money." He walked around the apartment and talked to himself. Then suddenly he calmed down and put the record on the machine and sat down with her to listen to their song. He played the record three times, then fell asleep from exhaustion and she kept playing the record until he woke up a halfhour later. He was smiling, and he said, "I'd like to quit, baby, but I don't know any other way to make money."
The following week he tried gambling and lost.
(From "Dear Baby" by W. Saroyan)
5
Joe is grieving over the death of his wife who died giving birth to a child.
He walked about quietly, turning, bumping into the edges of doorways and chairs and other objects in the room. He stopped suddenly, removed his hat and coat, stretched and shook his head as he did when he was confused in the ring.
When the telephone rang he knew it was Lazzeri. "Joe?" Lazzeri said. "Yeah." "Are you all right?" "Sure." "Remember what I told you?" "What did you tell me?" "I want you to take it easy." "That's what I'm doing."...
His fights were all good, except one, and that was the fight with the champion, Corbett, which had been a draw, but very close, some sports writers saying he had won and others saying that Corbett had won, and everybody wanting a rematch, especially Lazzeri.
So tonight he was fighting Corbett again... If he won this fight he and Lazzeri would be in the big money at last. He believed he could take the fight, but what if he did? What did he care about money now? Suppose he did take the fight? Where could he go after the fight?
"I'm dead," he said. "What's the use bluffing?"
...He fell asleep, and when he woke up he went to the telephone, without thinking, and asked the hotel operator to get him Corbett at Ryan's Gymnasium, and call him back. A moment later the telephone rang. He answered it and Corbett said. "Hello, is that you, Joe?"
8
"I'll take care of you kid," he said. "You know I like an aggressive fighter."
"Don't say I didn't tell you," Joe said.
"See you in the ring," Corbett said.
In the ring, when they shook hands, Joe said, "This is going to be your last fight." Corbett didn't know he was talking to himself. "O.K., Joe," he said.
The first round was fast and wild. Even the sports writers couldn't understand. Lazzeri was sore as hell. "Joe," he said, "what do you think you are doing? You can't beat Corbett that way. Take it easy. Fight his fight." Lazzeri wanted to hit him after the second round.
The third round if anything, was faster than the first and second, and coming out of a clinch Corbett said, "What do you think you are doing, Joe?" "/'/77 knocking you out," Joe said.
Corbett laughed at him and they began fighting again, one for one, with the sports writers looking at each other, trying to figure out what was going on.
Lazzeri was furious. "Joe", he said. "Now you're throwing away the championship — the chance we've been working for all these years. You can go to hell, Joe. I hope he floors you in the next round." In the fifth round Corbett was slow, his punches were weak and he seemed confused. Toward the end of the round he fell and stayed on one knee to the count of nine. The fight was stopped near the end of the sixth round because Corbett's eye was so bad. Lazzeri was crazy with joy.
(From "Dear Baby" by W. Saroyan)
6
It is generally accepted that the United States is one of the most sports-minded of all nations. But let us look at it closer. In fact, we are a nation of spectators, not participants. The rapid rise of professional football's popularity on television has turned the men of America into a collection of armchair quarterbacks. They are experts in all the techniques of running with, kicking, or passing a football, in the art of blocking and tackling. But they expertize orally, of course, and usually from the confines of a couch and in a reclining position. Most of these living-room athletes would break a bone with the first effort to participate in a real game.
Another special breed of American is the "fresh-air fiend". He boasts that he is always outdoors playing golf. What he does not mention is the fact that he rents a motorized cart to ride around the golf-course, carrying him, his clubs, and perhaps a cool beer or two. To him, golf is a matter of seeing how few,strokes it takes him to hit a little white ball into a set of small holes. Exercise, as such, has nothing to do with the game.
The "weekend exerciser" is familiar to many. He spends five days a week at a sedentary desk job that requires almost no physical effort. On Saturday and Sunday he plays six sets of tennis, twenty- seven holes of golf, and chops a winter's supply of firewood. It never occurs to him that
sudden exertion after prolonged periods of inactivity makes him a prime candidate for a heart attack.
There are also those who go to the other extreme and make one particular type of physical fitness a kind of fetish. They are those, who work out fanatically with barbells and weight-lifting paraphernalia to the exclusion of all other exercises. They develop bulging biceps, massive shoulders, huge thighs. Then they pose for each other in approved fashion, their muscles, leap around under their skins like waves at high tide. Unfortunately, they are not so much physically fit as they are muscle-bound.
The physical unfitness of Americans has been a source of concern to doctors...
(From Introduction to "Austronaut Exercise Book") 7
7
The Olympic Character
The many generations of athletes who have gone through the Olympic Games, that unique school of life and struggle, include more than 1500 young men and women from Russia. Ever since our country made its confident and impressive Olympic debut its athletes have demonstrated their will-power and the power of their muscles, have demonstrated the splendid character of an Olympian.
But is victory the only thing that counts? Can one ignore how it was won? Pondering on these questions, one must admit that there exist other values in addition to the values of victory.
The unpretentious behaviour, sportsmanship and respect for their country's flag that were displayed by Russian athletes came as a revelation to many people. Our Olympic athletes uphold their principles, their understanding of sport, in every contest. For example, in their matches with the world's leading teams Russian ice hockey players propogate team-work and fair play.
Olympic stars invariably arouse tremendous interest. Everybody, and particularly young people, see in them an ideal of perfection, above all, perfection of thoughts and actions. The fact that true lovers of sport appreciate the friendly spirit, optimism, courage and will-power of Russian athletes is indeed gratifying.
The Olympic Games are undoubtedly a genuine festival of the sporting youth of the world, thereby creating respect among nations and good will and contributing to the establishment of a better and more tranquil world, as the Olympic Charter urges.
The Supplementary Topical List
A
a preliminary rallying — розыгрыш подачи, разминка a rally — быстрый обмен ударами (в теннисе) to win a set — выиграть сет (в теннисе) to hit a ball hard — сильно ударять по мячу
loose, well-coached strokes — свободные, хорошо оттренированные
движения (удары) to make sharp, sliding, slicing shots — резко ударять (по мячу 10
ракеткой), подрезая мяч to force smb. into errors — вынуждать (противника) делать ошибки
в игре, не давая возможности принять подачу a turning point — поворотный момент (зд. в игре) to hit the ball into the net — ударить мячом по сетке (попасть
мячом в сетку) to hit the ball back — отразить удар (принять подачу) to lose point after point — проигрывать одно очко за другим an opponent — противник
the score was... in favour of... — счет был в пользу...
shots began to work again — удары опять начали достигать цели
to lose a game — проиграть партию
to miss the first service —- проиграть первую подачу
to play in a (golf) tournament — участвовать в соревнованиях
(по игре в гольф) a golf champion — чемпион по игре в гольф a semifinal round — полуфинал, полуфинальные игры motor racing (automobile sport) — автомобильный спорт, автогонки works-teams — профессиональные команды races — состязания, соревнования, гонки snow and water skiing — обычные и водные лыжи athletics — гимнастика sculling — гребля
motor cycling sport — мотоциклетный спорт a racing car — гоночная машина
to see smb. in the ring — смотреть, как кто-л. дерется на ринге a ringside seat — место у ринга
to be almost out in the forth (round) —■ почти выбиться из сил в четвертом (раунде) to fight hard — драться упорно, наносить сильные удары to knock smb. down — послать кого-л. в нокдаун (сбить с ног) to floor smb. — сбить кого-л. с ног a draw — ничья
a close draw — ничья (с отсутствием даже незначительного преимущества одной стороны) a rematch — повторный матч to win a fight — выиграть встречу (матч)
he could take the fight — он мог бы победить (выиграть встречу)
11
Гш out to win tonight — я намерен выиграть сегодня
to come out of a clinch — выйти из ближнего боя (из захвата)
to knock smb. out — нокаутировать кого-л.
his punches were weak — его удары были слабыми
he stayed on one knee to the count of nine — он приподнялся на одно
колено и остался в этом положении до счета девять a sports-minded nation — нация, увлекающаяся (интересующаяся) спортом
armchair quarterbacks — (iшутл.) домашние болельщики, наблюдающие за игрой, сидя в кресле у телевизора to kick a ball — бить по мячу; забить гол to pass a ball — передавать мяч
the art of blocking and tackling — искусство защиты и нападения an athlete — спортсмен
a golf-course (a golf-links) — площадка для игры в гольф
a golf club — бита (клюшка) для игры в гольф
to play six sets of tennis — сыграть 6 партий (сетов) в теннис
to play 27 holes of golf — загнать шар в лунки 27 раз
physical fitness — физическая подготовленность
barbells — штанга
weight-lifting paraphernalia — принадлежности для поднятия тяжестей
sport and physical fitness activities — занятия спортом и физической культурой the Olympic victory pedestal — Олимпийский пьедестал почета The Trade Union Games — Спартакиада профсоюзов СССР physical education — физическое воспитание the Olympic Games — Олимпийские игры large-scale tournaments — массовые соревнования a ski jump (board) — трамплин a ski centre — лыжная база toboggan runs — санные трассы (спуски) a shooting range — тир a biathlete — биатлонист the finals — финал, финальные игры
to reach the USSR Master of Sport level — завоевать звание мастера
спорта СССР physical training — физическая подготовка
physical recreation — активный отдых, включающий занятия спортом
to make one's Olympic debut — дебютировать на Олимпийских играх
sportsmanship — честность, прямота, мужество, воля, ловкость
(как качества спортсмена); спортивный дух contest — соревнование
team-work — согласованная работа, совместные усилия, взаимодействие (всех членов команды) fair play — честная игра
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athletics — физкультура a rated athlete — спортсмен-разрядник an event — вид спорта
contending teams (squads) — соревнующиеся комайДЫ the home-team (a visiting-team) — хозяева поля (команда, Которую принимают хозяева поля) the all-Moscow (all-USSR) team — сборная Москвы (СССР) a team meet — спортивная встреча команд
to defeat a team by 6 points to 4 — победить команду со счетом 6:4 a contestant, a participant — участник соревнования to participate in the world championship in — принимать участие
в международном чемпионате по to compete — соревноваться
a top competition — ответственное соревнование (первенство мира,
континента, Олимпийские игры) to qualify for the finals — выходить в финал a cup final — финальная игра на кубок
to set a new (world) record — установить новый (мировой) рекорд to star (in the Olympic Games) — (театр.) быть звездой, выступать
в главной роли, to beat (break) a record in... — побить рекорд по... the USSR record holder in... — чемпион СССР по... a contender to the title — претендент на звание to win (carry off, capture) a title — завоевать звание to win by a head — опередить на одну голову (на скачках); перен.
еле-еле выиграть to win on points (with a perfect scale) — выиграть по очкам (с большим перевесом) a convincing win in — убедительная победа в to have a win to one's credit — иметь победу на своем счету a medal winner — обладатель медали to lose to smb. — проиграть кому-л. to open the score — открыть счет to even the score — сравнять счет
close score — счет при незначительном преимуществе одной стороны
score-board (sign-board) — табло
to score a point (to gain points) — набрать очко (набирать очки) to drop points — терять очки
to share first place with smb. — разделить первое место с кем-л. to upgrade from second place to first — перейти со второго места на первое
to relegate from second place to fifth — опуститься со 2-го места на пятое
an all-round champion — абсолютный чемпион to be "in form" (in good, tip-top shape) — быть в форме (в хорошей спортивной форме)
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to be "out of form" (== "off form") — быть не в форме
a trainer (coach) — тренер
Who trains him? — Кто его тренирует?
Не trains under N. — Он тренируется под руководством Н. a training (workout) — тренировка a referee — судья (в боксе, футболе и т. п.) to fan — болеть за кого-л. (за какую-л. команду) an ardent (keen) sports fan — страстный любитель спорта («болельщик»)
to be a soccer, etc., fan — быть «болельщиком» футбола и т.д., «болеть»
What team do you root for? (Am.) — За какую команду вы «болеете»?
a sports (play) ground — спортивная площадка
to go in for sports (swimming, football, etc.) — заниматься спортом
(плаванием, футболом и т. д.) to be keen on sports (cricket, golf, etc.) — любить спорт (крикет, гольф и т. д.)
to care for football, tennis (etc.) — интересоваться футболом, теннисом (и т. д.)
to be good at tennis, football (etc.) — хорошо играть в теннис, футбол (и т. д.)
the Prepared for Work and Defence fitness standards — нормы ГТО to bid for the Olympic Games — выдвинуть кандидатуру для участия в Олимпийских играх the moral and mental aspect of sporting contention — моральный и психологический аспект спортивной борьбы
Football
soccer, a ball game — футбол a football pitch — футбольное поле big league games — игры команд класса А second division games — игры команд класса Б a bencher — запасной игрок a goalkeeper — вратарь a forward — нападающий a field player — полевой игрок a halfback — полузащитник a fullback (defender) — защитник a goal (front) — ворота to score a goal — забить гол
they won the game 3:1 (three to one) — они выиграли встречу
со счетом 3:1 a tying goal — гол, сравнявший счет
Boxing
a boxing bout —
встреча между двумя боксерами a (heavy-weight, flyweight) boxer — боксер (тяжелого, наилегчай¬шего веса)
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a second, an assistant — секундант
he has a powerful punch — у него сокрушительный удар an uppercut — удар снизу (апперкот)
Track and Field Athletics
decathlon; pentathlon — десятиборье, пятиборье
(The) 100-metre race (run, dash, event) — бег на 100 метров
(the) marathon (race) — марафонский бег
a steeple chase — бег с препятствиями
a speed walking — спортивная ходьба
hurdling — барьерный бег
relay races — эстафета
high (long, triple) jump — прыжок в высоту (в длину, тройной прыжок)
pole vaulting (jump) — прыжок с шестом
(the) discus (hammer, javelin) throw — метание диска, молота, копья
(the) shot put — толкание ядра
Gymnastics
free exercises (calisthenics) — вольные движения (художественная гимнастика)
an indoor (outdoor) gym(nasium) — спортзал (спортплощадка)