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.’’

SHOCKING CONFESSION: 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 semi-conscious on the 13th green at the Butler National Club. ‘’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!’’

'Straight-faced and meticulously, the interpreter put each question to Aoki in Japanese, then translated his replies back into English for media consumption'

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. Unfortunately, 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 ringing up 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 the sozzled sub. ‘’ ‘’The Greater Greensborough Open.’’ ‘’No, who’s that calling?’’ ‘’Don Revie.’’ ‘’Yes, I’m sure it is…and I’m Father Christmas,’’ snapped the Expressman, slamming down the receiver.

BROADLY SPEAKING: Hooray Henry Blofeld, plum firmly entrenched in his Old Etonian mouth, was waxing lyrical to Radio Three listeners as Notts went out to bat in the NatWest Trohpy 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 every so closely, you might notice that Broad is a left-hander…’’

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 Kennedy, ‘’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.’’

LITTLE AND LARGE: Clive Lloyd had just reached the wicket, accompanied by his Lancashire teammate Harry Pilling - barely five-foot 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.