The hardest part about change isn't imagining what can lie ahead. That's always the easiest part. The most difficult part about transition is never imagining the possibilities: it's simply letting go of the past.
As you can see, Burwell yet again provides his loyal following with a textbook example of effective introductory-paragraph writing.Not only does our dear Bryan manage to confuse his audience before even introducing his topic, but he uses more convoluted cliches than Robert de Niro in Brazil.
No, we're not talking about the short-term past: If you are a Rams fan, you can't wait to get rid of the hideous nightmare of the past few seasons just as quick as you can.
If you would direct your attention to the last sentence of Burwell’s “introductory” paragraph, you will notice that our little journalist follows his colon by beginning the word “it’s” with a lower case letter. And as you can see in this example, Burwell chooses to capitalize the first letter in “If” following the colon. To give an anology, Burwell is like the Roulette player that places an equal bet on both red and black, believing that he is hedging his bets against loss and thus ensuring success. However, in Burwell’s case, the ball always lands on double zero. Surprisingly, the Burwellian approach violates standard journalistic practices. The NYPL Writer’s Guide states that a writer should always be consistent following colons within a body of work, and the APA states that a writer should also capitalize following a colon. Burwell's grammatical style is truly the COLONoscopy of modern-day sports journalism.
On this, the final day of what could be (oh, please make it so) an imperfect 1-15 season, what most folks are thinking (of) are the ways to purge ourselves of misery of all this losing.
Congratulations on the parentheticals, Mr. Burwell. You have just used a rhetorical device.
They're dreaming of a No. 1 overall pick in the NFL draft. They're dreaming that GM Billy Devaney will become the smartest guy in the room, weaving (?) all sorts of personnel magic over the course of the next few months.
They're wondering how he will be able to draft a stud like Ndamukong Suh in the first round, and then keep on collecting the impact (to you aspiring English students out there, note that impact is a noun, not an adjective, and your professor will surely deduct points) players of the next generation throughout the rest of the draft in order to restore this once-great franchise to a semblance of its brief, but glorious past. (Burwell should write brief yet glorious past, but bringing up such a minor quibble with Burwell’s grammatical style is like complaining about room service shortly before the Titanic sinks).
But the funny thing is, on the same day they're imagining those giddy possibilities, they're once again being reminded of that sensational past. Effective English writers do not use the passive tense because of the lack of agency- I would provide an alternative way to express this thought, but as usual, the latter half of this Burwellian fiasco that he calls “sentences” is completely superfluous and adds nothing to the argument, so there would be no point in providing an alternative.
And you know what?
It's hard to let go. This is the first sentence Burwell writes that has absolutely no grammatical mistakes. Note the complexity. (If only it weren't so hard for the Post-Dispatch to let go of a certain someone...)
Today, another integral piece of The Greatest Show on Turf returns to town for a cameo farewell. Isaac Bruce, now 37 years old, will most likely only be a ceremonial contributor for the visiting San Francisco 49ers. He returns to the indoor stadium he once electrified as one of the leading characters in one of pro football's most exciting offensive eras. His head coach, Mike Singletary, who ought to know better (no qualification offered for this statement), had to be coaxed into putting Bruce on the active roster for today's game by the younger wide receivers who understand the symbolism and importance of what this final act of the Greatest Show actually means.
Bruce will be on the field before the game as an honorary captain. Of course, there will be cheers. Probably polite and passionate, long enough to recognize that the 45,000 diehards who braved the frigid weather to watch an otherwise uneventful (How does he know the game will be uneventful? BURWELL THE SEER! BURWELL THE PROPHET!) game still remember how good it used to be, and how big a deal Bruce was in his heyday here.
The sad thing is, it just won't be the same.
It will not be like it used to be when the Edward Jones Dome used to be filled to the roof, and the place fairly trembled with sellout crowds that who (REMOVE WHO) generated enough noise to mimic a jet engine. POETIC BURWELL! It won't be the same as it was when Bruce was sprinting toward the endzone and down on the Dome floor you could actually feel the earth move. Students, in much the same way you would not want to learn geography from the arrangement of football divisions (Rams in NFC West, Cowboys in NFC East, etc.), DO NOT use this past sentence as a basis for learning basic verb tenses. It won't sound as chilling and exciting and crazy and out of control and explosive as it used to be when this place rippled with that distinctive roar:
BRUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!!!! I would correct Burwell’s use of the triple and, but I will give Burwell the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was using anaphora to elucidate his argument, because I’m sure the Post-Dispatch hired him for his pervasive use of such complex literary devices.
But how cool would it be if today that moment was recreated? AVOID PASSIVE!
The last members of that great Rams team are rapidly disappearing from the NFL. Only a handful are still sprinkled around the league, and today, two of them — Bruce and Rams defensive end Leonard Little — will both be taking their final bows. And all I hope is that they both get to experience one last trembling moment from a city that once was the toast of the NFL but now has hit on hard times. In third grade, students learn about sentence fragments and run-on sentences. This is a textbook example that McGraw-Hill should include in their fourth-grade edition. If you have extra time at home, try to diagram this sentence…
I hope they both are in uniform, and get to play significant minutes. I suspect that Little will find a way to will his beaten up body (WTF) to get out there, and I doubt that Rams coach Steve Spagnuolo would have any qualms about finding a way to get him suited up and active for the final game of his career.
I just hope that Singletary shows that same common sense. He is a man who used to play the game with a sense of its history, played the game like every single play mattered. He played that middle linebacker position in Chicago with the sense that he fully understood the legacy of the job and its meaning in NFL history. Burwell’s argument that how Singletary played middle linebacker in the ‘80s for the Bears should somehow affect his decision-making as coach of the ‘49ers is called a non sequitur, from the Latin “it does not follow.” In lay men’s terms, the absence of a correlation between cause and effect is called a Burwellian fallacy.
And now he needs a little reminder of what contribution Isaac Bruce made to NFL history and his unique place in the legacy of The Greatest Show on Turf in St. Louis. What does this line even mean? Burwell’s argument is that if he can show Coach Singletary how great Bruce was a decade ago, he should get to play in the final game this season. Because Ted Williams hit .400 for the Red Sox in 1941, that should serve as the basis for starting him in the late 1950s? On Friday before the team departed for the road trip, it didn't sound like Singletary was ready to concede a thing. When asked what Bruce's contribution would be on Sunday, the coach said, "It could be the coin toss and that's it. Or he could play the first play or he could play the first series. I'm good with it either way. I told (offensive coordinator Jimmy Raye) he and Isaac will talk and figure it out. Maybe he'll play, maybe not. I want it to be very respectful. The wideouts coming to me obviously shows how they feel about him. I wanted to honor that." Burwell’s use of quotes in an article is always a smart decision, because he is not providing his audience with his own writing. Write and encourage Burwell to use quotes, quotes, quotes.
Well, then honor him, Mike. Burwell just used the literary device known as apostrophe. Also, there is an added sense of irony here. Since no one reads Burwell’s columns, he is able to address people specifically without alienating a potential audience.
Just make the decision (to) Play (lowercase) Isaac Bruce.
If he can play one play, play him one play. If he can play one series, play him one series. If he can go for the entire game, then let him do his thing so that this city can give him a proper tribute. I am not in good enough shape to sprint at the end of this marathon and give this paragraph the proper rearrangement that it surely deserves, but take solace in knowing that this entire paragraph could be summed up with the sentence "Allow Bruce to play as long as he can."
We want to hear that roar again.
BRUUUUUUUUUCE!!! You gotta wonder what goes through Burwell’s head when he writes (RAT TAT TAT). But I gotta wonder what makes B squared decide to use nine U’s in Bruce instead of ten? Eight? Surely Burwell does not just pick a random number.
As usual, analyzing Burwell is not a one-man job- I need help. If you notice any other mistakes, please note them in the comments section below so I can add it.
-Tim
As you can see, Burwell yet again provides his loyal following with a textbook example of effective introductory-paragraph writing.Not only does our dear Bryan manage to confuse his audience before even introducing his topic, but he uses more convoluted cliches than Robert de Niro in Brazil.
No, we're not talking about the short-term past: If you are a Rams fan, you can't wait to get rid of the hideous nightmare of the past few seasons just as quick as you can.
If you would direct your attention to the last sentence of Burwell’s “introductory” paragraph, you will notice that our little journalist follows his colon by beginning the word “it’s” with a lower case letter. And as you can see in this example, Burwell chooses to capitalize the first letter in “If” following the colon. To give an anology, Burwell is like the Roulette player that places an equal bet on both red and black, believing that he is hedging his bets against loss and thus ensuring success. However, in Burwell’s case, the ball always lands on double zero. Surprisingly, the Burwellian approach violates standard journalistic practices. The NYPL Writer’s Guide states that a writer should always be consistent following colons within a body of work, and the APA states that a writer should also capitalize following a colon. Burwell's grammatical style is truly the COLONoscopy of modern-day sports journalism.
On this, the final day of what could be (oh, please make it so) an imperfect 1-15 season, what most folks are thinking (of) are the ways to purge ourselves of misery of all this losing.
Congratulations on the parentheticals, Mr. Burwell. You have just used a rhetorical device.
They're dreaming of a No. 1 overall pick in the NFL draft. They're dreaming that GM Billy Devaney will become the smartest guy in the room, weaving (?) all sorts of personnel magic over the course of the next few months.
They're wondering how he will be able to draft a stud like Ndamukong Suh in the first round, and then keep on collecting the impact (to you aspiring English students out there, note that impact is a noun, not an adjective, and your professor will surely deduct points) players of the next generation throughout the rest of the draft in order to restore this once-great franchise to a semblance of its brief, but glorious past. (Burwell should write brief yet glorious past, but bringing up such a minor quibble with Burwell’s grammatical style is like complaining about room service shortly before the Titanic sinks).
But the funny thing is, on the same day they're imagining those giddy possibilities, they're once again being reminded of that sensational past. Effective English writers do not use the passive tense because of the lack of agency- I would provide an alternative way to express this thought, but as usual, the latter half of this Burwellian fiasco that he calls “sentences” is completely superfluous and adds nothing to the argument, so there would be no point in providing an alternative.
And you know what?
It's hard to let go. This is the first sentence Burwell writes that has absolutely no grammatical mistakes. Note the complexity. (If only it weren't so hard for the Post-Dispatch to let go of a certain someone...)
Today, another integral piece of The Greatest Show on Turf returns to town for a cameo farewell. Isaac Bruce, now 37 years old, will most likely only be a ceremonial contributor for the visiting San Francisco 49ers. He returns to the indoor stadium he once electrified as one of the leading characters in one of pro football's most exciting offensive eras. His head coach, Mike Singletary, who ought to know better (no qualification offered for this statement), had to be coaxed into putting Bruce on the active roster for today's game by the younger wide receivers who understand the symbolism and importance of what this final act of the Greatest Show actually means.
Bruce will be on the field before the game as an honorary captain. Of course, there will be cheers. Probably polite and passionate, long enough to recognize that the 45,000 diehards who braved the frigid weather to watch an otherwise uneventful (How does he know the game will be uneventful? BURWELL THE SEER! BURWELL THE PROPHET!) game still remember how good it used to be, and how big a deal Bruce was in his heyday here.
The sad thing is, it just won't be the same.
It will not be like it used to be when the Edward Jones Dome used to be filled to the roof, and the place fairly trembled with sellout crowds that who (REMOVE WHO) generated enough noise to mimic a jet engine. POETIC BURWELL! It won't be the same as it was when Bruce was sprinting toward the endzone and down on the Dome floor you could actually feel the earth move. Students, in much the same way you would not want to learn geography from the arrangement of football divisions (Rams in NFC West, Cowboys in NFC East, etc.), DO NOT use this past sentence as a basis for learning basic verb tenses. It won't sound as chilling and exciting and crazy and out of control and explosive as it used to be when this place rippled with that distinctive roar:
BRUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!!!! I would correct Burwell’s use of the triple and, but I will give Burwell the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was using anaphora to elucidate his argument, because I’m sure the Post-Dispatch hired him for his pervasive use of such complex literary devices.
But how cool would it be if today that moment was recreated? AVOID PASSIVE!
The last members of that great Rams team are rapidly disappearing from the NFL. Only a handful are still sprinkled around the league, and today, two of them — Bruce and Rams defensive end Leonard Little — will both be taking their final bows. And all I hope is that they both get to experience one last trembling moment from a city that once was the toast of the NFL but now has hit on hard times. In third grade, students learn about sentence fragments and run-on sentences. This is a textbook example that McGraw-Hill should include in their fourth-grade edition. If you have extra time at home, try to diagram this sentence…
I hope they both are in uniform, and get to play significant minutes. I suspect that Little will find a way to will his beaten up body (WTF) to get out there, and I doubt that Rams coach Steve Spagnuolo would have any qualms about finding a way to get him suited up and active for the final game of his career.
I just hope that Singletary shows that same common sense. He is a man who used to play the game with a sense of its history, played the game like every single play mattered. He played that middle linebacker position in Chicago with the sense that he fully understood the legacy of the job and its meaning in NFL history. Burwell’s argument that how Singletary played middle linebacker in the ‘80s for the Bears should somehow affect his decision-making as coach of the ‘49ers is called a non sequitur, from the Latin “it does not follow.” In lay men’s terms, the absence of a correlation between cause and effect is called a Burwellian fallacy.
And now he needs a little reminder of what contribution Isaac Bruce made to NFL history and his unique place in the legacy of The Greatest Show on Turf in St. Louis. What does this line even mean? Burwell’s argument is that if he can show Coach Singletary how great Bruce was a decade ago, he should get to play in the final game this season. Because Ted Williams hit .400 for the Red Sox in 1941, that should serve as the basis for starting him in the late 1950s? On Friday before the team departed for the road trip, it didn't sound like Singletary was ready to concede a thing. When asked what Bruce's contribution would be on Sunday, the coach said, "It could be the coin toss and that's it. Or he could play the first play or he could play the first series. I'm good with it either way. I told (offensive coordinator Jimmy Raye) he and Isaac will talk and figure it out. Maybe he'll play, maybe not. I want it to be very respectful. The wideouts coming to me obviously shows how they feel about him. I wanted to honor that." Burwell’s use of quotes in an article is always a smart decision, because he is not providing his audience with his own writing. Write and encourage Burwell to use quotes, quotes, quotes.
Well, then honor him, Mike. Burwell just used the literary device known as apostrophe. Also, there is an added sense of irony here. Since no one reads Burwell’s columns, he is able to address people specifically without alienating a potential audience.
Just make the decision (to) Play (lowercase) Isaac Bruce.
If he can play one play, play him one play. If he can play one series, play him one series. If he can go for the entire game, then let him do his thing so that this city can give him a proper tribute. I am not in good enough shape to sprint at the end of this marathon and give this paragraph the proper rearrangement that it surely deserves, but take solace in knowing that this entire paragraph could be summed up with the sentence "Allow Bruce to play as long as he can."
We want to hear that roar again.
BRUUUUUUUUUCE!!! You gotta wonder what goes through Burwell’s head when he writes (RAT TAT TAT). But I gotta wonder what makes B squared decide to use nine U’s in Bruce instead of ten? Eight? Surely Burwell does not just pick a random number.
As usual, analyzing Burwell is not a one-man job- I need help. If you notice any other mistakes, please note them in the comments section below so I can add it.
-Tim
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