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.

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. 

Scrum off it: TEN hilarious rugby gems for World Cup Final day

During  more than three decades in Fleet Street, I heard more offbeat tales about sports celebrities than I care to remember – many of them first-hand from colleagues who witnessed the event. These 10 anecdotes are just a few  of the funnies I picked up from rugby players and journalists  (both union and league). Whilst I suspect one or two of the anecdotes  may be apocryphal, does it really matter as long as they tickle the laughter buds?

Charlie Faulkner...lines crossed

DON’T CALL US: During their 1978 tour of Australia, the great Welsh team of that era tried all sorts of devious methods to get freebie phone calls through to their wives and loved ones back home. The players resorted to tricks like asking restaurant proprietors if they could use the phone – and then calling the other side of the world when the proprietor thought they were ringing a local number. Prop forward Charlie Faulkner – a not-so-bright member of the legendary Pontypool front row – opted for a different tactic at the reception that followed the first Test match in Brisbane. He picked up the house phone, got through to the hotel switchboard and barked out his home number in

Newport. ‘’To whom do I charge the call?’’ asked the operator. ‘’Err…Mr Dawes. John Dawes,’’ mumbled Charlie, figuring he could get the tour coach to pick up the tab. ‘’Please remain by the phone for a moment, Mr Dawes, and I’ll call you back,’’ came the reply. Charlie replaced the receiver and got back to the business of drowning his sorrows after a rare defeat. By the time the call came through a few minutes later, he was in another world. ‘’Ullo,’’ said Charlie. ‘’I have a call to South Wales for Mr John Dawes,’’ confirmed the operator. Charlie took a quick look around. ‘’He’s not here,’’ he barked – and hung up.

GUMMETH THE HOUR: Cliff Morgan, the rugby maestro who later became a commentator and eventually head of BBC TV sport, vividly recalls his first broadcasting experience. Wales had just beaten Ireland 14-3 in Dublin on their way to the Triple Crown and Grand Slam when BBC radio commentator Sammy Walker asked the great man what he remembered about the match. ‘’My father losing his teeth,’’ said Cliff. ‘’When Ken Jones scored our second try, dad was so excited that his dentures flew out of his mouth into the crowd and he hasn’t seen them since.’’ Some years later, Morgan was recounting the tale to Tony O’Reilly, who played 29 times for his country before becoming a mega-rich international businessman and head of the Heinz empire. O’Reilly, who was renowned for his great wit, feigned surprise at the news. ‘’Your father’s, were they?’’ he said. ‘’That’s amazing. I know the guy in Cork who’s still wearing them.’’ On another occasion, O’Reilly had to make a brief trip to a Dublin hospital after being involved in a minor traffic accident. With medical treatment in Ireland charged on a sliding scale according to income, the nurse who was filling in the details on his behalf asked: ‘’Mr O’Reilly, do you earn more than 10,000 punts (pounds)?’’ Quipped Tony: ‘’Now that depends on whether you are talking about the hour or the day.’’

HEADS WE WIN: Wales coach Clive Rowlands was giving his customary pre-match talk before an all-important international at Cardiff Arms Park. As usual, the players were locked into Room 338 at the nearby Angel Hotel – and the emotive Rowlands was pounding them with reasons why they had to grind the opposition into the dust. By the time he had finished working on their emotions, the wound-up stars were ready to die for their country – literally. ‘’What are you going to do?’’ Rowlands bellowed as the electric atmosphere reached fever pitch. ‘’WIN!’’ yelled the players. ‘’What are we going to do?’’ echoed Clive. ‘’Win, win …WIN!’’ It was all too much for second-row forward Geoff Wheel. The big man from Swansea worked himself into a frenzy and, screaming ‘’Kill, KILL!‘’, he charged at the door to Room 338 – and butted a hole clean through it.

A FATE WORSE THAN BREATH: After four years in the England team, veteran prop Paul Rendall had seen it all. So it was only natural he should want to put new boy Paul Ackford’s mind at ease as they prepared to face Australia at Twickenham. ’’Don’t worry,’’ Rendall assured police inspector Ackford in the changing room before the match. ’’The game will fly by. You’ll find the first half seems like three minutes and the second half four minutes.’’ England went on to produce a dazzling performance and were within five minutes of a memorable victory when Ackford staggered up to Rendall during an injury stoppage. ‘’You’re a f***ing liar!’’ gasped the 6ft 6in second row. ‘’I’ve been out here for four-and-a-half hours and the game’s still not over.‘’

LATE MOMENTS IN SPORT: The British Lions were given a fearful runaround by the Orange Free State outside half during a particularly traumatic 1980 tour match. In the end, Lions centre Ray Gravell could stand no more. As the South African danger man made yet another break, the Welsh tough guy hit him with a fearful tackle long after he had parted with the ball. The referee angrily called the Llanelli star over and proceeded to dish out the severest of reprimands. ‘’That was the latest tackle I’ve ever seen!’’ he stormed. Replied wisecracking Gravell: ‘’Sorry ref, I got there as quickly as I could.’’

STICKY WAGER: It certainly wasn’t the weather that took York Rugby League coach Bill Reilly and Aussie scout Arthur Clues to Batley. The Mount Pleasant ground was anything but pleasant as the wind howled, the rain sheeted down – and the teams made a forlorn attempt to play rugby in a mudbath. With scarcely a minute left to play, neither side had scored a single point. Then Batley, playing up the hill and into the gale, won a penalty way out on the touchline. As their fullback lined up an ambitious pot at goal, Yorkshireman Reilly turned to Clues and wagered: ‘’I bet you a dollar he kicks it.’’ ‘’You’re on,’’ replied Clues. The kicker squelched through his run-up, only to slip in the quagmire at the moment of contact – and the ball trickled just a few inches forward as he plunged onto his back in the mud. ‘’I told you he’d kick it,’’ said Reilly, holding out his hand for his winnings.

ARMS AND THE MAN: There was no question of injured Tommy Martin making his own way off the field. The Leigh and Great Britain second row needed a stretcher after taking a bad knock on his ankle – but the one and only St John Ambulance stretcher was already occupied by another player. As Martin lay writhing on the ground and the fans bayed for the action to restart, desperate officials grabbed an office chair from the clubhouse and dashed on to the pitch with it. Martin was lifted gingerly into the seat, and with one embarrassed committee man either side, the chair was hoisted into the air by its arms. With the crowd roaring their approval, Martin was steered tentatively towards the dressing room . Five seconds later, there was a huge crack and the committee men were left holding a chair arm each as the seat and legs tipped Martin out – straight onto his damaged ankle.

GRIN AT THE DEEP END: To celebrate Leigh’s feat in avoiding relegation, coach Tom Grainey took his strugglers on holiday to Majorca. Some months later, his assistant Colin Clarke was reflecting on the break in the changing room at Hilton Park. ‘’Remember it, lads?’’ he mused. ‘’All that sun and San Miguel…and old Grainey up on the top diving board doing a double somersault with pike?’’ With that, prop forward Derek Pyke chirped up: ‘’Hey, it weren’t me. I were out on a training run.’’

WIGAN’S BIG ‘UN: The groupie girl outside Wigan’s Riverside Club eyed up the town’s new Rugby League hero – and liked what she saw. ‘’Hiya, big boy,’’ she said to burly South African Nick Du Toit, her eyes settling on the most personal part of the 6ft 3in forward’s anatomy. ‘’Tell me, are you built in proportion all over?’’ ‘’Listen, lady,’’ replied Du Toit in his clipped Afrikaans tones. ‘’If I was built in proportion, I’d be 12 foot ten!’’

AN ED FULL OF NOTHING: Tough-guy Eddie Szymala was in the wars again. And after the beefy but intellectually-challenged Barrow forward broke his jaw in a match against Oldham, coach Frank Foster was quick to pay tribute to the wounded hero. ‘’Eddie doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear,’’ Foster told the assembled press. ‘’Mind you, there are a million other words he doesn’t know the meaning of, either.’’