👉 Okay, settle in closely, class, and let’s tackle something delightfully… prickly. We're venturing into the slightly mildewed corners of late 19th and early 20th-century American slang with a word that practically vibrates with repressed Victorian awkwardness:
Antilateralism
.
Now, before you reach for your stiff collars, let me unpack this. Originally coined around 1895 in the sporting press—specifically the rowing fraternity of the American Collegiate Rowing League (ACRL)—it wasn't meant as a compliment! Rather, it described a very specific, and rather pathetic state of mind amongst oarsmen, particularly during the headships (those brutal, point-to-point races where you basically just row straight into the current. Torture, frankly.) Essentially, an "antilateralist" was someone who, whilst rowing at full blast, would somehow manage to veer slightly off a perpendicular line, angling their oars in what we now recognise as a disastrously inefficient way. Think of it like trying to steer a rowboat while simultaneously tap-dancing. You're expending ludicrous amounts of energy and barely going anywhere. Here’s the kicker: this wasn't just bad rowing technique! It was seen as a mark of utter, soul-crushing defeatist apathy . The oarsman exhibiting antilateralism wasn't fighting, they weren't even trying with any kind of competitive spirit.
