Good eye?

My history of the English language class finally made it to the 20th century. . . sort of. The brilliant thing is our textbook and the accompanying workbook were written by excessively old British gentlemen, which makes the sections on slang quite entertaining. Before we got to slang, however, we had to talk about self-explaining compounds. My very nice and very odd professor paced in front of our 10 person class saying "If a horse doctor is a doctor for a horse then a city park. . . " We were expected to complete her sentence with "is a park for a city." It's cake, but it's also 3:00 in the afternoon, so a few people mumble on each one. After a few of these, everyone was falling asleep or daydreaming or doing something with slightly more academically profitable. Except for one guy, who enthusiastically kept up with "a dispute about borders." Our prof was either so surprised or so grateful that she cried out, "Good eye! Good eye!" And they kept going with "a mill which uses wind," etc.
Calling out "good eye" during this exercise is like calling out "good eye" during a T-ball game. Do you remember that stage of your athletic development? I never developped athletically, actually, but I attended more than my fair share of T-ball games. It's the first stage of softball/baseball, where the kids swing at a ball sitting on a plastic prop directly in front of them. And for some reason when they miss, by either swinging above into the air or below into the plastic "T", the stands fill with shouts of "Good eye! Good eye!" No, bad swing. Get your kid off the field. End the humiliation now. Try soccer or tennis or ping pong. Forget the hopes of your kid playing "ball which uses bases."