Lost in translation:Michael Owen is gay. He said so himself. Only he didn't, not really. I did. Trouble is, if I said it, Michael said it - that's the thing about translators. Ruben Reggiani, the man who brought us Fabio Capello's first words as England coach, has been criticised for failing to translate accurately. But it could have been worse. He could have accused Capello of fancying the pants off Frank Lampard.

Spring 2005. A packed pressroom at Real Madrid. Asked what he thought of Lampard, Owen expressed his admiration: his form was spectacular, he was playing superbly . . . he was, in short, brilliant. I scribbled at my pad and then began reeling off the answer, getting carried away.

"Lampard," I - the voice of Michael Owen - declared, "esta buenisimo."

In the pause between uttering the words and the place falling about, I already knew what I had done. Michael shot me a look: "What have you said?"

"Well, you see, there are two forms of 'to be' in Spanish," I squirmed, "and, erm, by using the wrong one, I've basically just said you'd like to sleep with Frank Lampard."

Michael started to giggle, wagged his finger: "No, no, Lampard no esta buenisimo."

The remark went out on the news. It still gets an occasional airing. The magazine Don Balonran a headline asking, "Is Michael Owen coming out the closet?" "No," the article concluded, "but his translator may well be."

At least I'm in good company and Jose Mourinho started his football career trying to make sense of Bobby Robson. David Beckham's first translator in Madrid was shelved when minute-long responses became 10-second ones. In the aftermath of the Rebecca Loos story, another got ripped apart by a tabloid because she whispered into his ear and because, bluntly, she was a bit of a battle-axe.

"A woman cuddles up to Beckham," the paper wrote, "but this aide looks handpicked by Victoria."

Ivan Helguera once had to translate for himself because the man brought in, seemingly off the streets, lost it in such exalted company. "I'm sorry," he spluttered, "I'm very nervous."

Another turned up late to an embarrassing ovation, while the same, more heartfelt, treatment was given to the woman translating for Mourinho at the Camp Nou when he walked out, leaving her on her own, an answer still to give.

You are not going to cause a diplomatic incident but translating for footballers in front of the press, where every word matters, is never easy. As Ruben Reggiani found out, you have to decide whether to translate with reported speech or in direct quotes. He was attacked for speaking in the third person. Footballers get away with it but he couldn't. You have to be able to look Beckham in the face and remind him that an opponent called him, "erm, a girl". And you have to avoid laughing, or softening the response, when the player shoots back with withering, angry answers.

Football has its cliche-ridden argot, which you have to know. And you have to know the context. Just ask the translator who knew more about phonetics than football, accusing Real Madrid of playing with 12 players - Michel and Salgado - and claimed that the coach wasn't a guy called Luxemburgo at all. He was, in fact, a guy from Luxembourg.