I THINK THESE TWO GUYS LOOK ALIKE - AM I BLIND?

j

                                                           JACK WHITEHALL - comedian 

ISCO - Real Madrid footballer

Sports stars say the funniest things - more laughs from the past

A few more tales to make you giggle, picked up from fellow sports journalists and Press box chatter during my time as a Fleet Street sub-editor, reporter and columnist...

Myth and Jones: Oleg Blokhin skinned Joey 

GEORGIA AND THE DRAGON: Wales had just lost 3-0 to the USSR in a World Cup qualifier, yet full-back Joey Jones was in jovial mood despite being given the runaround by supreme Soviet Oleg Blokhin in front of 80,000 fans at Tbilisi. The Liverpool joker wisecracked: "If anyone's got a picture of Blockhead, I'd like to see what the bugger looks like. All I have seen is his f***ing back! It's no wonder he's so fast, his mother and father were Olympic sprinters. My mum's a cleaner and my dad's a hospital porter so what bloody chance have I got?''

ALL BITE AND NO BARK: Scotland’s beleaguered manager Ally MacLeod was facing the world’s press after the disastrous events of the 1978 World Cup finals in Argentina. His struggling side had been humbled by Iran…and one of Ally’s star players had been sent home for taking drugs. As miserable MacLeod began his summing up, an equally forlorn mongrel wandered over and sat at his feet. ‘’Aye,’’ said MacLeod, ‘’they’ll all be waiting to get at me when I get home. Right now, I probably don’t have a friend in the world - apart from this little dog.’’ With that, he bent down to stroke the bedraggled animal…and it bit him.

TROUBLE AND SQUEAK: Radio commentator Peter Lorenzo, busy interviewing England’s World Cup heroes after the 1966 Wembley victory over West Germany, was unimpressed by Alan Ball’s response to his opening question. The little midfielder piped out his answer in that distinctive squeaky voice that was to become so familiar, only for a clearly unconvinced Lorenzo to retort: ‘’Come on Alan, I know you don’t really talk like that.’’

HORSES FOR CURSES: Owner-trainer Bryn Thomas was in no mood to face the stewards after his well-fancied horse had run a stinker at Hereford. The big former Cardiff rugby forward was discussing what had gone wrong with top jockey John Francome when he was summoned to explain the horse’s failure. Stomping angrily into the stewards’ room to face his three inquisitors, the fiery farmer demanded to know why they were wasting his time. ‘’I haven’t got a clue why it ran so badly,’’ he blasted, ‘’and I’m in a hurry to get home.’’ Discreetly, in view of the Welshman’s daunting physical presence and bombastic mood, one of the stewards explained that even the Queen’s horses were inquired into from time to time. ‘’I know that,’’ fumed Bryn. ‘’But when she gets home afterwards she hasn’t got to milk 70 f***ing cows.’’

CHAMP-PAIN CHARLIE: World-title contender Chuck Wepner was so sure he‘d take Muhammad Ali‘s world heavyweight crown that he made his wife a promise before the big fight in Richfield, Ohio. ‘’Go out and buy yourself a new negligee, baby,’’ ordered cocky Chuck, ‘’Tonight you’ll be sleeping with the champion.’’Wepner, for all his bravery, duly went the way of all flesh and was stopped by Ali - albeit in the final round. Mrs Wepner, unimpressed, was more concerned about Ali’s whereabouts. ‘’Does the champ come to me…or do I go to him?’’ she asked her battered husband.

THE DRAFTY COCKNEY: England darts stars Eric Bristow and John Lowe were practising in Edinburgh before the World Cup competition. In the next bay, obscured by a partition, was Scotland’s top player Jocky Wilson - a fierce rival of Crafty Cockney Bristow. Suddenly one of Eric’s darts ricocheted off the wire…and disappeared under a gap at the bottom of the partition. A couple of seconds later it reappeared - courtesy of Wilson. ‘’If he’d known it was yours he’d have thrown it out there,’’ quipped Lowe, pointing to the large open window behind Bristow. ‘’No chance,’’ retorted Eric the mouth. ‘’He’d have missed.’’

LEVEL BEST: Liverpool captain turned BBC pundit Emlyn Hughes was in no doubt about the quality of football he was expecting to be served up in the World Cup finals. ''I want to see the type of game where teams are winning 4-1 and 3-3,’’ he told Sport of Two radio listeners.

Shanks for the memory and other Fleet Street football funnies

My three decades working for Fleet Street tabloids were littered with press-box anecdotes involving football's most colourful characters . Many of the tales came from Fleet Street colleagues who witnessed them first hand. I suspect one or two of the stories are apocryphal but who cares as long as they make people smile...

LATE NIGHT EXTRA:  Legendary Liverpool manager Bill Shankly was fuming on the night several of his superstars arrived back at their Belgian hotel 45 minutes later than the boss. “Where do you lot think you've been?'' blazed Shanks as international quartet Ron Yeats,  Ian St John,  Roger Hunt  and Ian Callaghan returned from a drinking session well after the boss’s midnight curfew. ”That’s it!’’ he ranted at Yeats, St John and Hunt. ”You’ll never play for Liverpool again – and you can forget about international football as well. You’re finished!.’’ Then, turning to his blue-eyed boy Callaghan, he added: ”And I’m going to tell your missus about you.”

DON'T CRY FOR LEE: Newcastle United manager Gordon Lee wanted a word with chairman Stan Seymour. He marched into the club chief's office, to be told by a secretary: “Mr Seymour is not available. He's gone to see Evita. Lee retorted: “I don't think so. He wouldn't go and watch a foreign player without telling me first.'' When Lee moved on to manage Everton, the Merseyside media soon discovered his geographical knowledge matched his familiarity with Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals. After a dismal showing in a home Cup Winners' Cup leg against Standard Liege, defiant Gordon looked ahead to the return in Belgium and rapped: “Just wait until we get them in Standard!''

EMMY AWARD:  Hard-man Tommy Smith had two pet hates in football - Leeds United striker  Allan Clarke  and his own skipper at Liverpool,  Emlyn Hughes. And not necessarily in that order. When Hughes clashed with Clarke in a goalmouth melee and old squeaky voice Emlyn found himself on the deck with blood pouring from his nose, Smithy showed himself in his true colours. ”Maybe that Clarke’s not such a bad bloke after all,” muttered Tom the compassionate.

CROTCH OF THE DAY:  With manager Jock Stein in hospital, Celtic No.2 Sean Fallon was dealing with press enquiries at Parkhead. When one reporter phoned to enquire about an injury to Scotland full-back  Danny McGrain, Irishman Fallon admitted: ‘’I don’t think he’ll make Saturday’s game. He’s suffering from a Grain stroin.’’

GENTLE-MAN JIM:  It threatened to be a bloody battle. Spurs and Burnley had fought out a particularly vicious FA Cup stalemate and the replay promised to be even more physical. The teams were kicking in before the game when Jimmy Greaves, who was never noted for his ball-winning ability, approached his equally timid-tackling opposite number  Jimmy McIlroy. "Hey Jim, why don’t we mark each other?,’’ said goal-king Greavsie. ‘"Then neither of us will get hurt.’’

TOM AND JURY:  Tommy Docherty was always the first person to poke fun at himself  as with his version of the infamous court case in which he was accused of perjury – and acquitted. "I admitted to the judge I’d lied on oath, but he didn’t believe me,’’  is one of the one-time Manchester United boss’s classic quips. Tongue-in-cheek Tom is also particularly proud of his dubious achievement as manager of Rotherham United. ‘‘I promised the chairman I’d get them out of the Second Division (now the Championship) and I did,’’ he recalls. ‘"I took them into the Third.’’

EIRE RAID WARNING:  League of Ireland champions Shamrock Rovers were convinced they had the answer to mighty Honved of Hungary in the European Cup, The lads from Dublin trailed 2-0 from the away leg, but on the eve of the return manager  Jim McLaughlin  unveiled a unique plan for beating  the magnificent Magyars. ‘’We’ll be concentrating on all-out attack…mixed with caution,’’ he insisted. No prizes for guessing who won the tie 5-1 on aggregate.

BETTER BY CALF:  England legend  Nat Lofthouse  reckoned he was frightened of his own Bolton teammates in his playing days. Well, two of them anyway. Full-backs Roy Hartle  and Tommy Banks had such a fearsome reputation that striker Lofthouse maintained: ‘’When they were playing behind me I used to put shin guards on the back of my calves.’’

BALD REALITY: Rival Midlands bosses Ron Atkinson and Jim Smith decided to travel together to a dinner they were both attending. Their teams had been having mixed fortunes, with Atkinson's West Brom near the top of the old First Division (the Premier League predecessor) and Smith's Birmingham seemingly heading for relegation. They pulled their vehicle into a multi-storey car park near the function venue, left it on the top deck, and got into the lift. Big Ron turned to the Bald Eagle and quipped: “You press the button because it's you who's going down.''

NO WAY TO TREAT A LADY: Peter Withe's whip-round was apparently for the driver taking the Aston Villa players to their pre-season friendly in Dusseldorf. But the man behind the steering wheel received not a single pfennig. Withe invested the money in an inflateable rubber sex doll called Doris, which went on to become part of Villa folklore. The obliging lady was adorned with a No.12 on her back and the name of newlywed Colin Gibson's wife across her torso. She was then left in a suitably compromising position in Gibson's room at the team hotel. Gibbo was not amused – he hacked her to shreds with a pair of scissors.

Five golden golf gems that will have you in stitches...

FLEE OF A KIND: Japan’s top golfer Isao Aoki was much in demand at the Open Championship at Lytham St Annes following his World Matchplay victory the previous year.Unfortunately, his English was not quite as good as his golf, and an interpreter had to be called in to translate his comments to the gathered press corps. Straight-faced and meticulously, the interpreter put each question to Aoki in Japanese, then translated his replies back into English for media consumption.The question-and-answer session was nearing a close when one hack urged the interpreter: ‘‘Would you ask Mr Aoki how he came to drop a shot at the 17th?’’ This time, Aoki himself moved up to the microphone and in Oriental pidgin English announced slowly: ‘‘I flee putt flom flucking flinge of gleen.’’Ignoring the roars of laughter ringing around the press tent, the expressionless interpreter took over again and confirmed: ‘’Mr Aoki says he flee putt flom flucking flinge of gleen.’’

MAXIMUM IMPACT: Lee Trevino, golf’s happy-go-lucky Supermex, even managed to retain his sense of humour after being struck by lightning during the Western Open near Chicago. Along with playing partner Jerry Heard, a shocked Trevino was rushed to hospital following the incident, which left him lying on the 13th green at the Butler National Club, semi-conscious."I could see the next morning’s headline—Supermex Becomes Super-Ex," he joked. As he began to recover in hospital, the chunky little Texan put a call through to his wife. ''How do you feel?’’ asked worried Claudia."Sensational,’’ replied her irrepressible husband. "For the first time in my life I was six-foot-two’’

DRIVEN CRAZY: Golfer Eamonn D’Arcy was looking anything but happy as he took his bearings for an approach shot during the first round of the Madrid Open."What’s the matter, pal?’’ asked his playing partner, as the confused Irishman looked quizzically into the trees alongside the Puerta de la Hiero course."I can’t work out my distance to the green,’’ moaned D’Arcy. "I marked it yesterday against a red car that was parked over there, but the bloody thing has gone.’’On another occasion, D’Arcy was undergoing a press grilling after a particularly successful opening round in the Benson and Hedges Open at Fulford. ‘‘What’s your best finish this year?’’ asked freelance writer Gordon Richardson. "Fifth,’’ replied D’Arcy. "Was that in the German Open?’’ ventured Richardson. "No, I was fourth in that.’’ 

HOLE DON, PLEASE: Golf fanatic Don Revie, keen to keep up with the news from the United States tour, made one of his regular late-night calls to the Daily Express sports desk in Manchester. On this particular evening, the sub-editor who intercepted the call was somewhat the worse for drink—and blissfully unaware of Revie’s eccentric habit of calling in the early hours of the morning. ‘‘Don Revie here,’’ echoed the instantly-recognisable voice of the then-England football manager. ‘‘Could you please give me the latest details from the Greater Greensborough Open in America.’’‘‘What did you say?’’ asked sozzled sub Bryn Davies. ‘‘The Greater Greensborough Open.’’‘‘No, who’s that calling?’’‘‘Don Revie.’’‘‘Aye, and I’m Santa Claus,’’ snapped the Expressman, slamming down the receiver.  

PIN MONEY:  President John F Kennedy was playing golf with Chris Dunphy, chairman of the famous Seminole Club in Florida. At the first hole, the President hit his approach shot to within three feet of the pin—and promptly made it clear he expected the putt to be conceded. ‘‘Have a go, Mr President,’’ said multi-millionaire Dunphy. ‘‘A putt like that builds character.’’ ''OK,’’ sighed JFK, ‘‘but let’s keep moving.  I've got a meeting with the Internal Revenue (tax) director right after this round.’’ ‘‘The putt’s good,’’ said Dunphy instantly. ‘‘Pick it up, sir.’’ 

NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT...CRICKET

EXIT THE DRAGON: Fiery Welsh paceman Greg Thomas was determined to make an impression on the watching England cricket selectors when Viv Richards came out to bat for Somerset against Glamorgan at Taunton.  The red-hot dragon pitched his first delivery yards short—and saw it rear up viciously and whistle past King Viv’s nose. Thomas glared down the wicket, turned away and fired himself up for his second tilt at the West Indian maestro. He stormed past umpire David Lloyd—and down crashed an equally unplayable ball. Again Richards could do nothing but take evasive action as it flew through to the wicketkeeper at head height. Standing menacingly half-way down the wicket, Thomas eyeballed the world’s No.1 batsman and snarled: ‘‘It’s round….and it’s red.’’  With that, he stalked back to his mark before zooming in even more venomously and thumping his next delivery in short yet again. Calmly, Richards swung his bat…and off flew the ball, high over long-on and clean out of the ground. Richards swaggered slowly down the wicket, looked Thomas straight in the eye and sneered: ‘’You know what it looks like. You get it.’’ 

NEW BALL GAME:  England’s cricket team, stranded in Aden on their way to Australia for an Ashes series, were invited to a party by a local dignitary. One of the guests was a sheikh whose proud boast was that he had 81 wives.  When this noble fact was pointed out to Fred Trueman, the fiery Yorkshireman remarked: ‘‘Does he know that with four more he can have a new ball?’’ Later on the same voyage, Britain’s top distance runner Gordon Pirie—a fellow passenger on the Canberra—offered to organise some physical training for the party. "You need some exercises to strengthen your legs,’’ he advised Trueman. '‘Strengthen my legs!’’ blasted Fred. "I bowled 1,000 bloody overs this season and they’ve never let me down yet. It’s not me who needs your f***ing exercises.’' With a cold look over the side of the ship, he added menacingly: ‘‘Can thee swim, lad?’’  

BROADLY SPEAKING:  Hooray Henry Blofeld, plum firmly entrenched in his Old Etonian mouth, was waxing lyrical to BBC Radio Three listeners as Notts went out to bat in the NatWest Trophy final at Lord’s. ‘‘It’s quite remarkable how alike Tim Robinson and Chris Broad are,’’ he observed as the opening pair set about the Essex pace attack. ‘‘Right down to their headguards and arm shields, they look identical. I must admit I have great difficulty telling them apart.’’ It was left to fellow commentator Colin Milburn to clarify the picture for suffering Blowers, silly old thing that he is. ‘‘Actually there is a small difference,’’ pointed out the ex-England opener. ‘‘If you look ever so closely, you might notice that Broad bats left-handed.’’  

LITTLE AND LARGE: Lancashire batsman Clive Lloyd had just reached the wicket, accompanied by his teammate Harry Pilling—barely five-feet tall and as pale-skinned as Big Clive is dusky.  The 6ft 2in West Indian was just taking guard when a voice piped up from deep inside the Old Trafford bar room.‘‘Which one is Clive Lloyd?’’ sniggered the wise guy. ‘‘The one with the glasses,’’ confirmed quick-witted Lancashire off-spinner Jack Simmonds.  

AND FINALLY... Darts commentator Syd Waddell, jabbering away as ever at the Embassy World Championships quarter-final between John Lowe and Bob Anderson, assured TV viewers: "This match is so exciting that the crowd are on the edge of their tenterhooks.’’ 

I'm now off to put my other hat on. Check out www.donnagee.blogspot.com or www.donnapets.blogspot.com

England 26 New Zealand 12: World Rugby champions, did you say?

Forget the All  Blacks, England are the best rugby team in the world. Don't laugh, the evidence could well be indisputable in a couple of weeks time. I am, of course talking about the other code of the game. The one they started up in Huddersfield many years ago ''t'get some dosh for t'players.''

I guess many the Hooray Henry losers who watched New Zealand beat Australia in Saturday's RWC Final still have hangovers after their six-week oval ball of non-qualifying celebration. But earlier this evening I watched a team of white-shirted Englishmen hammer world champions New Zealand in front of a euphoric crowd at Hull's KC Stadium. And there was not a single chariot around, sweet or low.

The occasion was the first of three Test matches between England and New Zealand, who have pinched the mantle of world's best from their Antipodean cousins in recent years. And surprise, surprise, the men in white 'rose' to the occasion as only an English team can (as opposed to 'do').

Oddly enough, the clinching try was scored by Wigan Warriors captain Sean O'Loughlin, whose name sounds more in keeping with a jolly green giant on the Irish after-dinner circuit.  The reality is that O'Loughlin is Wigan born and bred and it's hard enough trying to decipher his accent  in St Helens, let alone in the lah-di-dah corridors of rugger power. Not that he is ever likely to follow Sam Burgess on his international Twick or Tweet merry-go-round. He'd need an interpreter and as far as I know there's nobody on earth who is fluent in both English and High Wiganese.

Sean O'Loughlin...scored  England's clinching try

Now I have to confess that as a true Welsh patriot, I am a rugby union person. I don't have the divided interests of former players like Jonathan Davies, who seems able to switch codes in the commentary box almost at will not you, Carling). Jiffy also seems to rather confused about his nationality at present. A Welsh-speaking Welshman, he was heard this evening to utter the unutterable over a microphone as England celebrated victory against the Kiwis. He called them 'we'.
Shame on you, Jonathan. Next thing you'll be telling me that the late Bill McLaren was from Trimsaran.

At first I thought I was imagining the whole unlikely scenario of England beating the All Blacks.  I was doing my usual early-evening channel-hop and there it was. BBC2, live rugby action with England battering the hell out of a bunch of burly black-shirted Kiwis.

My senile brain gradually absorbed the fact that in recent years England have become pretty much the best in the business when it comes to the 13-man game. My recollection is that Australia ruled the rugby league show for almost as long as the All Blacks have been the most remarkable sports team on earth. Apart from a couple of momentary blips when they crashed to No.2 in the rankings, they have been the best in the business for as long as I can remember.

The first nation to win three World Cups, first to win back-to back-crowns and in Richie McCaw led by a unique warrior who has won 131 of his world-record 148 Test matches. I was in junior school last time Wales beat the All Blacks. We've lost to them perhaps a dozen times since then, and even in the golden era of Gareth Edwards and Barry John, only once come close to repeating the feat.

Now you can bet that the McCaw birds of Kiwi-land will be ruling the roost until the next Worldwide Webb-Ellis is invented.

The big question is whether England are on the verge of putting the rugby league world to whites.