Do sportswriters no longer have copy editors?

I'm a reasonably avid sports fan, mostly of football (the original game, not the American one), as well as basketball (mostly women's, particularly women's NCAA). Because of that, my various feeds send me notices of pieces on those topics, and many such pieces have generated a question in my head:

With most sports reportage having moved online, do columns and other pieces get posted as received without copy editing?

This... essay will be different from others in this blog. It starts with an egregious word choice that I noticed in the early-morning hours of 25 June 2026. I will add other such blatant errors as I encounter them.

From a piece on Caitlin Clark and technical fouls (Author: Chirag Radhyan) comes this doozy:

"A sixth technical foul would tighten the vice considerably."

Did you see it? I am wondering which vice was being discussed. Nose-picking? Prostitution? Cursing in church? Gambling?

Do you see it now? If you didn't, were you the copy editor of that piece?

This is vice.

This is a vise.

While similar in spelling, the two words are very different in meaning. At least, the words were different and had different meanings when I was in school. I tested my grammar checker with the above egregious sentence, but it did not even blink, so I suspect that so many English writers make this mistake that it has become acceptable, but my wonderful old-school 11th- and 12th-grade English teacher would roll over in her grave had she seen this. (I am glad you are not having to endure this, Miss Beck.) There were hard-and-fast rules then, but they are going by the wayside, with the best example of such being that "only" may now be placed nearly anywhere in a sentence one wishes, even though all other modifiers still must conform to the rule of placement immediately before the word or phrase the word is modifying.

Misplaced modifiers

All things are not possible, even to the greatest.... -- The Magic of Recluse by L. E. Modesitt, Jr., pg 302.

While I have treated this subject previously in a very specific manner with the restrictive adverb/adjective "only" (and about which I plan another essay), a distressingly high percentage of people seem to think that modifiers can be placed nearly anywhere in a sentence.  In fact, unless one places a modifier (whether adjective or adverb) as near as possible to the word or phrase that it is intended to modify, the writer/speaker leaves his words open for mis-interpretation.  Since the entire idea behind language is to communicate information between a presenter and one or more recipients, the onus of clarity is on the presenter, else why bother.  This is the primary rationale behind "legalese," a system of writing contracts and other documents that endeavors to eliminate mis-interpretation of what is intended.

The above quotation is, itself (yes, I will eventually essay a diatribe on the use of reflexive pronouns!), quoted from the The Basis of Order, a book that is a critical part of the back story of most of the later -- internal-series "later," not necessarily publication "later" -- books of the Recluce series.  It is an explanation about the magic of order that delves deeply into the philosophical side of things and is read by many of the series' characters.  It is the sort of treatise the interpretation of which can change as a reader's experience expands.  Like virtually all of us, though author of more grammatically correct sci/fi and fantasy text than nearly any other author that I've read, even Mr. Modesitt has occasional failings in his submitted text.  At least, I certainly hope that his original text was not changed in the editing process to what is quoted above!

Most readers of this sentence probably passed right on by without a hitch, not noticing the error that dramatically changes the meaning of the sentence.  Granted, I know not what L. E. Modesitt, Jr., intended with the sentence.  However, I know what I inferred, and that inference was that there are some things/actions/results that even the best among us cannot achieve.  Unfortunately, the wording, as presented, leaves two interpretations open, neither of which is the intention that I infer.

Parsing the sentence, we see that the restrictive modifier "not" is placed next to the adjective "possible," thus implying that what the sentence is restricting is possibility.  We are left, then, with a straightforward, simplistic interpretation and a slightly deeper, more complex interpretation, neither of which, I assume, were intended.

1) The first is simply that "nothing is possible," whether one is the greatest or least.  Of course, since every one of us manages to do something every day that each of us is alive -- even if that is simply breathing, even the shallow thinker might realize that the sentence certainly cannot be intended to imply that absolutely nothing is possible.

2) The slightly deeper interpretation is that even the best of us cannot do everything.  That statement, though, is too patently obvious, as I doubt that anyone would believe that a single person, no matter how skilled and knowledgeable, could compose a beloved symphony, determine the cubed root of 1,585,460 without abacus or calculator, and whip up a tasty coq au vin, all while running a four-minute mile. Considering the extensive body of work of the author and the obvious thought that he places into, seemingly, everything (check out his blog at his website), this interpretation simply cannot be correct.

However, if we assume a specific copy-editing lapsus (and why have copy editors if they cannot actually copy edit?), then all is right with the world!  Moving the restrictive modifier to the very front of the sentence results in "Not all things are possible, even to the greatest...."  Thus, though left with a fairly straightforward statement of fact, many of the world's movers and shakers could stand to ponder that statement for a time.  And often.  Since the character in the book reading that statement would become one of those movers and shakers, and since The Basis of Order is found (by every character reading it in the series) to be difficult to understand without sufficient experience, the sentence, as amended, fits well with the emotions and feel of the scene.

To summarize, language works only when we all understand and, most importantly, utilize the accepted grammatical rules and concepts when presenting information to recipients.  Without those rules, language descends to gibberish, allowing mis-interpretation and reinterpretation of concepts and facts to the detriment of us all, as in the closing sentence of the above-quoted essay on the use of "only."

The -ward words

The unenthusiastic security guard was leading him down a tree-lined driveway towards a distant high brick wall with a red door in it. -- The Accidental Sorcerer by K. E. Mills, pg 4.

"Of course, Milady," Sharlassa agreed, turning back towards the door, and Hanatha waved her daughter towards the window seat along the solarium's western wall. -- War Maid's Choice by David Weber, pg. 215.

First off, I want to congratulate the artist (Steve Stone) that created the cover art for The Accidental Sorcerer. I do this for two reasons: 1) many sci-fi/fantasy covers relate poorly to the content inside the pages, often getting most aspects of the character(s) wrong, often with overly-busty women that are NOT described in the text and 2) I am awed at the ability of the artist to capture in a shadowed face so many emotions and personality traits, particularly in the one eye!

Apparently, many people search online seeking clarification in the differences and usages of the words "toward" and "towards." All sites answering such questions that I found in a quick search gave, essentially, the same response: They are equivalent with differing preferences shown by various parts of the English-speaking world, the British choosing "towards," Americans "toward."

However, I believe that all of those sites have missed the main point: Why are there two words meaning the same thing? The answer, I believe, lies in all those other -ward words, such as backward, forward, rearward, afterward, etc. One example that I experienced points, I believe, to the solution. A British friend was telling me something and used the phrase "backwards and forward." Did you note that he used the 's' in one of the constructions, but not the other?

During my online searches, I ran across a website listing 69 words ending with -ward. Though some are fairly rare, many are in widespread use, with most of those having no near-twin with the -wards ending. Since I apparently could not construct a search string that took me to a website discussing the origin of the -ward ending, I am forced to hypothesize. Or, rather, to state the hypothesis that I came up with many years ago: The ending 's' in the -wards ending is an addition or affectation added after the suffix came into widespread use indicating 'in that direction.' And, it has been added to only some of the -ward words.

This inconsistency of usage is one of my pet peeves, because, to me, it indicates (yet, again) that people simply do not think about what they speak or write. My friend, when asked if he realized that he had used two different constructions on very similar words, stopped, thought, and said, "huh." I suspect that the addition of that terminal 's' was originally due to ignorance and the rest of us have to follow that pied piper.

I object. Strenuously.

Less vs. fewer

"I want you to develop and train a group of players, not less than eight, and no more than fifteen...." -- The Soprano Sorceress by L. E. Modesitt, Jr., pg. 554.

Still, there were less than forty in each salvo. -- The Shadow of Saganami by David Weber, pg. 726

As noted by the Grammar Girl, though "less" and "fewer" are used to mean the same thing, the two words are used in differing situations. "Less" is used for indicating a smaller amount of something that is uncountable, figuratively or literally, and "fewer" for countable items. "Sand" is not considered a countable item, despite the fact that one could, technically, count the number of grains on a beach or some such, but that would take one longer than the time allocated to ones existence. One can count people or bullets, sticky buns and opinions. One cannot count clothing, rough-housing, nor enamored-ness. That is, one might have fewer people, bullets, sticky buns, and/or opinions, but less clothing. One could ask ones children for less rough-housing and for ones daughter to be less enamored of the head of the local motorcycle gang.

That's how I learned things way back when in the black days of schooling in which teachers actually taught the rules of the grammar road, one learned how to diagram sentences, and one learned to place adverbs next to the word or phrase that the adverb modifies. Nowadays, though, we seem to want to merge meanings and uses of varying words such that they become interchangeable. A fair few of the posts on this blog will probably deal with aspects of this movement (e.g., elevation vs. altitude, farther vs. further).

[Mr. Modesitt, my favorite author, is some 16 years older than am I, so I know that he also learned English grammar in those same old times. So did Mr. Weber, who is only some nine years younger than Mr. Modesitt. (These two authors are sole authors or co-authors of a significant chunk of my personal library; they are both prolific and are incredibly good world builders -- unlike J. K. Rowling, who seems not to have cared about the Harry Potter backstory, though she did spin a great yarn.)]

I object to this lessening of the number of distinct words that we use. English may be the premiere language of the world in the great abundance of ways to say similar, but not quite the same, things. I feel that this reduction in variety is driven by those too lazy or ignorant to know the difference in the usage of word dichotomies such as this one. Additionally, I note that these conflations of two words seem to move only one word's usage, not both. So, while many consider as acceptable the use of "less" in the above quotes, those same folks would consider the phrase "fewer clothing" to be flat-out incorrect.

Viva variety!

Internal consistency

"Oh no.  Not the Senethar this early in the morning. I'm [Timmon] for my bed again." ... Still grumbling, he and Jame dutifully squared up as their ten-commands followed suit. Fire-leaping Senethar consisted of a series of kicks and blows.  Its kantirs could be practiced alone but when in class two opponents mirrored each other, starting slow, getting faster, not seeking to connect.  Jame's fist brushed past Timmon's ear, and his past hers.  Simultaneous kicks pivoted them away from each other, then back.  So far, properly speaking, they were engaged in the Senetha, the Senethar's dance form. -- Honor's Paradox by P. C. Hodgell, pg. 27.

Then she [Jame] and Brier both got whites after fighting each other to a draw at the Senethar in a match that took the entire class period and left both barely able to stand. -- Honor's Paradox by P. C. Hodgell, pg. 215.

"Well, there is that. I [Timmon] hope to get another white  for the Senetha, though Shade has."  Jame [Jame] wasn't surprised, given what she had seen of the Randir's skills.  She hoped she would also score in that discipline, but so far the class hadn't appeared on her daily roster. -- Honor's Paradox by P. C. Hodgell, pg. 215-216.

In the three quotes, above, a tiny part of the sometimes-dark, always-quirky (particularly in the later books), and complex story of Jamethiel (Jame) Priest's-bane illuminates an unfortunately common lapsus in editing of sci-fi/fantasy books:  inconsistency within the storyline.  I can easily understand how such bits can crop up in an author's submitted manuscript as she or he moves bits around and changes wording during the writing.  However, an editor paying attention should really catch such mistakes.

The bit about "whites" relates to the giving of stones by instructors (three each, white and black) to cadets during their final testing at Tentir (a military academy).  White stones are given to the best cadets by each discipline's instructor, the blacks to the worst, though no instructor need give out all, or even any, of that instructor's six stones; most cadets receive no stones, white or black. White and black stones cancel each other out, and a cadet "passes" by receiving a non-negative score, with even a single white (canceled by no black) earning a cadet high honors and pride of placement in duty assignment after graduation.

While there may seem to be some ambiguity as to whether the above represents a lapsus or not, my reading of the full storyline makes me believe that the Senetha and Senethar are taught in the same class, by the same instructor; it is one discipline. If so, the second and third quotes contradict each other, as Jame won a white in Senethar, but just a half-page later, she is hoping to receive another white in the same discipline, which does not happen. Though this sort of lapsus requires quite-careful reading to catch, catching such is decidedly an aspect of an editor's task.

Though my focus in this essay is on internal consistency, the editor(s) and copy editor(s) of this book missed a fair few other bits in the above quotes, including missing commas in numerous places and using an adjective (slow) where an adverb (slowly) would be correct.  Finally, despite my promise to pick on a different publisher (Baen), I did not manage it, though I did use a different author's work.  I cannot really help it -- Baen's stable includes many of my favorite authors and the company has published a huge percentage of my favorite books.

Loath vs. loathe

"Perhaps you're correct, little champion," she said lightly. "Personally, I think the damage will linger. I've found such fertile ground on both sides -- the lords who hate and loath everything the war maids stand for, and the war maids whose resentment of all the insults and injustices they and their sisters have endured over the years burns equally hot and bitter." -- Wind Rider's Oath, by David Weber, pg. 546.

I don't know why so many seem to consider the subject words to be interchangeable. Just like "bath" and "bathe" are not interchangeable, the words are quite different. Though I have heard an ignorant mother tell her children to "Go bath," the two words do not mean the same thing. They are not even the same parts of speech, "bath" being a noun, "bathe" a verb.

Though writers and editors ought to have a solid grasp of parts of speech, vocabulary, and syntax, I suspect that the misuse of the two essay-subject words is not due to editorial oversight so much as to editorial ignorance. I could be wrong, and it doesn't really matter whether I am or not. The fact is that I have seen "loath" (pronounced with a hard 'th,' as in "bath") and "loathe" (soft 'th,' as in "bathe") used incorrectly in print a large number of times.

"Loath" is a an adjective describing, usually, a person or persons that are unwilling (or, at least, reluctant) to perform some action, as in "I am loath to let such lapsus pass un-noted." It is almost always followed by an infinitive phrase (here, "to let such...").

"Loathe" is a transitive verb meaning to dislike intensely or abhor, as in "I loathe that authors and editors often use 'loath' and 'loathe' interchangeably." Because it is a transitive verb, it requires at least one object; one does not simply loathe, one loathes something. Intransitive verbs do not have objects.  So, "I live," but not, "I loathe."

I don't really mean to pick on David Weber, but since I read a lot of his books, within them, I find a lot of grist for this mill. I also note in the quote above, that there is little real difference between "hate" and what should have been "loathe," making that part of the sentence redundant; that, too should have been caught by the editor(s). I promise that I'll pick on another author, and publisher, for my next essay on this blog.

Only

 "And," she added, "they only have one Harrington, thank God! The longer they leave her at Sidemore, the better I'll like it." -- War of Honor by David Weber, pg. 478

"... But of course, she's only doing it because of the absolute sanctity of her holier-than-thou, save-the-universe, rescue-mankind-from-original-sin ideology." -- Honor of War, pg. 376

These people were clearly maintaining operational security, and like everyone else in the briefing room, McKeon could think of only one star nation against which any Havenite operation in Silesia could possibly be directed. -- War of Honor, pg. 667

There may not be a single aspect of grammar that is currently so ignored and abused than the placement of the modifier "only" (and "just" when used in the vein of "only"). Because "only" acts as both adverb and adjective, it might modify nearly any word in a phrase, clause, or sentence. What causes such problems, I do not know, because it takes only a modicum of thought to place it correctly. (Of course, most people do not really think about much at all, forget about grammar!) Apologists excuse such incorrect usage with a variety of arguments, but the most cogent and reasonable of these is that in most such cases, the true meaning cannot readily be misconstrued.

However, those apologists miss the main point. The onus of information transfer is on the speaker/writer. That is, the person transferring information needs to make it clear to the receiver what s/he intends, to not allow for any possibility of misunderstanding. That is the sole reason that there are rules in grammar, so that all know what to expect and where to expect it. Yes, in most such cases of misplacement of "only," one would have to stretch to misunderstand the intent. However, my experience suggests that people get lazy when not following the rules and when the situation is important to get usage right, they strike out, as they've become accustomed to being lazy. For the same reason, it is important at all times to use one's turn signal appropriately when driving a car, else when you really need the driver of the car behind you to understand your intent, that person may be completely unaware that you plan to turn because you haven't used your turn signal; you have fallen out of the habit of doing things correctly!

In the first quote, above, the speaker is intending to indicate that she is glad that only one Honor Harrington exists.  The placement of "only," however, implies something else, nebulous I grant you, but something else. That is because it is placed immediately before "have," a word that, as a verb, could certainly be expected to be modified by "only." The second quote is marginally more obvious as being incorrect. These might be just minor lapsus in copy editing (but which really ought to be caught), if it were not for the fact that the book and series are riddled with examples of incorrect placement of "only." Even that might have been a conscious style decision by author or editor, except for the fact that there are numerous examples in the same book, as in quote #3 above, in which the use of "only" is correct. These three examples do not differ in any material way. I infer, then, that author and editor(s) did not care or, worse, did not notice, that usage differed.

If we follow the apologists, should we, then, cease to find it important where other modifiers are placed? Shall we just willy-nilly string a bunch of words together and expect the hearer/reader to understand our intent?  That is, shall we appropriate put the modifiers different in places turning lucid our thoughts into mush so much?