CADDIES' ROLE:As the European Tour spreads its borders, communication can prove a challenge, especially for your average monoglot Anglophone

IN THE days of old, travelling around the continent on the European Golf Tour could be quite an ordeal for the English speaker without a continental language.

For example, in areas of Italy and Spain more traditionally associated with the gathering of truffles and acorns and other indigenous pastimes, making yourself understood was not always easy.

Today of course, with most Europeans having some English and many able to speak it well, there is seldom a problem. Indeed, with our blasé attitude to the global language, many of us Anglophones rarely even show the locals the respect of asking if they speak English before we blurt out a barrage of tourist questions in our own peculiar brogues.

But with the extending of the "European Tour" borders we are now experiencing problems similar to those many of us had back in the 1980s in mainland Europe. How do you get around overland in China without the assistance of a translator? You don't.

You either learn Mandarin or get the well-educated English speakers in the golf club to write out in Mandarin all the possible questions you may need to ask in order to get you to your destination.

Not that the task is too arduous when you are getting chauffeured in a seven-series BMW from the Ritz Carlton on the glitzy side of Shanghai to the affluent suburbs of the metropolis with its new-found passion for golf-course living.

With a legion of young students of English ushering you into the back seat and the driver greeting you with a hearty "Goo-de morening, Sah" and the sponsors having left a leaflet of basic directions in Mandarin and English and descriptive pictures of the airport, hotel and golf course, you can hardly go wrong.

Well actually, you can go wrong. One of my colleagues took the bus from the Ritz to the course on Tuesday last and despite the driver having successfully negotiated the many twists and turns and the general chaos that reigns on the streets of Shanghai, my colleague managed to get lost as he entered the club complex - despite the fact it was a straight drive along the avenue from the entrance to the clubhouse.

These ultra-modern country clubs are extremely foreign places to the average Chinese person.

Meanwhile, as I say, when you visit Asia you deal with communication difficulties similar to what we experienced in Europe two decades ago.

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago in the Korean context, the job of trying to figure out, on the back nine on Sunday, who was leading presented unfamiliar challenges, because the leaderboard was, naturally, covered in symbols we non-Koreans did not recognise.

Unless there was a non-Korean on the board you didn't know whom you had to beat.

This was a minor inconvenience - unlike what the young Korean player Lee Sung goes through as a matter of course each day. He is totally deaf and has only limited speech.

Through his father, who travels with him, Lee communicates in sign language, which in turn is translated through an English interpreter.

The game of golf is played by most of us and mastered by few mainly through feel and feedback. Sound is a very important tool in figuring out how you are hitting the ball.

In Asia the cups often have a steel base, which rings out when your ball drops into it.

Lee Sung does not hear this. He does not hear applause from the crowd. He does not hear the sweet sound of a pure contact with club on ball. So apart from heightened visual awareness he has to rely on an innate way of giving himself feedback about his ball striking.

This is a major difficulty. But on a more basic level how does he get the message across to his caddie?

In this era of truly global caddies Sung's porter over the past few weeks has been an Argentine who travels mainly in Europe and converses mainly in Spanish but also has an excellent command of English.

When I asked him how difficult it was to communicate with his young, deaf Korean player he modestly replied it was actually not too bad using basic sign language given his English was so poor.

I know plenty of caddie-player teams who could often use the assistance of a translator when the mood is a little frosty between them in the heat of battle. One partnership had to use one of their playing partners as a translator on some occasions last week in Shanghai, despite both being native English speakers and not deaf or dumb.

The problem was not a language barrier, more a gradual decline in communication from dialogue to monosyllabic grunts and eventually nothing more than mind reading.

This sort of thing tends to happen when "Sir" is not playing well.

Some of the partnerships on tour are quite fascinating from the perspective of the diversity of their cultures.

An African from Soweto caddies for a Finn from Helsinki.

A Zimbabwean from Harare loops for a Dane from Copenhagen.

An Afrikaner from Pretoria helps a Dutchman get around the golf course.

With the accents and attitudes from all corners of the globe, somehow the universal language of golf transcends all communication barriers that result from the diverse ethnic and linguistic partnerships forged on the world tours.

Then again, when you hear the Chinese and their golf-speak catch-cries on the course - "Goo shat" or "Nice boddy" whenever a player makes contact with the ball or holes a reasonably long putt - you realise a very basic vocabulary can often suffice when it comes to communicating on the golf course in any part of the world.