Language in Motion: Versing

It is unfortunately true in Australia that culture is driven by sport. A whole set of radio and TV programs cover a range of areas, but present themselves as sports programs. Anyone from the glitterati to the literati can appear on these, so long as they follow the formula. You must start by acknowledging one of the sporting heroes or icons who sit on the panel. Say something like, "G'day Blocker, owyagoing? Dyavagoodweegend?"

This immediately puts the audience at ease, expecting that you are not going to do any in-tel-lek-chool talk. But then you can go on to talk about anything you want -- science, the arts, politics, social trends, or music. This provides a necessary ingredient for these shows, which would otherwise be left in the capable hands of people with names like Jacko and Cruncher. Genuine sportsmen can occasionally be short on mental substance. I'm sorry if this comes as a revelation to you.

Sports are all about individuals or teams competing against each other. We refer to this using the Latin term "versus". The Latin derivation plus two syllables can make this word a stumbling block for some sporting intellects. So Jacko and Cruncher and Blocker have reduced it to manageable levels. You will hear them say verse, or vee. Collingwood verse Hawthorn. Dogs vee Swans, if they are really getting it down to something we can all understand without a PhD in Latin.

School children in Sydney have picked this up. School children have an infallible radar to detect the powerful people in society who are worth emulating. So you can hear students at the bus stop with assorted collections of balls and sticks saying things like:

"Who are we versing next week?”

"We versed Castle Hill High last week and beat them."

Versing has become the term for two individuals or teams competing against each other. It is even used by students at Boadicea's school. She teaches at a private Anglican school in Sydney's Hills district. These kids know that "Bears vee Sharks" is a vernacular expression, so they don't sink that low. They don't think of themselves as a bunch of dumb westies. They are perfectly capable of expressing themselves in standard English if they want to.

Or maybe not. Standard English is a moving target.

I encountered this fact a few nights ago. Boadicea was in her study marking essays. There were sounds of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Anyone who knows teachers realizes that a certain amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth goes along with marking student assignments. But on this occasion the wailing seemed extra loud and the gnashing went on extra long. Plus it was accompanied by fluttery sounds, as of paper flying through the air. I went in to see what was going on.

Boadicea was sitting in front of a neatly stacked pile of marked essays, but leaning on the desk with her head in her hands. The remains of what turned out to be three essays were strewn randomly around the room, as if from a small explosion. I gathered up the pages and put them back in order. Then I had a quick read so I could make sympathetic noises. But I couldn't quite see what was wrong. The essay subject was the Battle of Marathon. The students seemed to have understood it well enough and expressed themselves quite clearly.

I'm sure you remember the Battle of Marathon from your own schooldays. It was about the Persians versing the Greeks.

Ken Rolph is an Australian writer living in Sydney.