I don’t suppose Clive Woodward feels he has to take much advice from anyone at the moment. From outside his closeknit managing-coaching-playing family, that is. Life must be pretty rosy.
His grand slam came at last with exuberance, brio and elan, as no doubt Martin Johnson told the boys and the gaffer immediately after England’s sweet, savage Sunday in Dublin.
But if there is one thing the head coach might take from it all is that he should perhaps learn to lie a bit. Two years ago before the game against Wales in Cardiff he went messianic for the first time, selecting Iain Balshaw at full-back and saying that he felt confident that England were about to do something very
special. They were. They did.
It wasn’t what he said — we have all heard coaches saying that things are about to go pretty swimmingly — but how he said it . With a softly pounding fist: ‘I firmly believe … this team … is special … and I’m proud … to be associated … with such a bunch of guys.â€
He was at it again before the Ireland game when he said: ‘These guys… are the hardest, toughest competitors I’ve ever had the privilege to work with.â€
He does let things tumble out in a rush when the zeal is upon him.
Because he knew. He knew England were ready at the start of 2001 for the Welsh game and he knew before the end of the 2003 campaign that England were ready for Ireland. But now it’s time to stop telling us.
On the form of last week England can win the World Cup, but rugby mind games on the other side of the globe are different. The treatment his pronouncements will be given in Australia won’t be the same as in England.
Hell, we like the nutty professor. His lab is a great place to be when everything is bubbling strictly in accordance with his calculations. But will the candour that can paralyse other teams in the Six Nations spin its magic at the World Cup?
Not a word of truth will be coming out of the Australian or New Zealand camps. It is not a question of reading between the lines there, but of simply inverting most of what Eddie Jones and John Mitchell will be saying.
Of course, Clive Woodward may not have doubts at the World Cup. But his pack will be that bit further into their mid-thirties, and Jonny Wilkinson will be nearer to physical breakdown, as they are exposed to the rigours of a condensed timetable.
But if Woodward can keep them going they will do just fine.
Not everyone will be going to the World Cup with the need for dissimulation. The French did quite well in the Six Nations by screaming and shouting at each other with alarming openness. Although, being called a cheat and a liar by your coach is a funny way of promoting honesty.
But then again the French have a World Cup record second to none of hurling abuse at each other and still making it to the final.
Their World Cup chances haven’t been diminished by their losing to England and Ireland. Even in defeat they gave glimpses of play that not even Clive Woodward at his white-coated battiest could try to emulate. The French are beyond scientific analysis. Damn it, their play is art. So arty that at times it’s crap.
They were whistled long and hard by their own crowd in Paris. Yet everywhere they went they produced flashes of genius — only to sink back into a sort of sulky time-kill. If ever players had the long-term on their mind it was this year’s strange French team.
All they need is Pieter de Villiers back from rehab, Thomas Castaignède cemented into the team and Tony Marsh free of injury and off they will go, cussing their way to glory.
The other teams in the Six Nations can be collectivised. For Scotland, Ireland, Italy and Wales the part of the season that has just been and gone is more important than the near future. For a moment Ireland could dream of stepping up to the plate
occupied by Australia, New Zealand, England and France. But their narrow wins over France and Wales proved to be the the ends not the means when England put them back in the Celtic / Italian sub-group.
They were the clear champions of that pool and Malcolm O’Kelly, Keith Gleeson, Kevin Maggs, David Humphreys and Geordan Murphy were individually outstanding for much of the championship. It was just that when England called on their big names on the grand-slam occasion, they responded. Lawrence Dallaglio was a player possessed on the last day. For Ireland only O’Kelly and Murphy kept their excellence going to the end.
Then again the pool below England and France is not such a bad place to be. Italy provided fresh blue water by beating Wales and by doing everything against France and England bar win the game. Which, granted, is a bit of a handicap. But Ramiro Pez showed that there will be life after Diego Dominguez and the back row was a revelation.
When John Kirwan put Mauro Bergamasco on the wing we thought the coach had been on the Chianti. But the old Kiwi maestro of that very position proved himself as broad of vision as anyone.
And Aaron Persico, who took Bergamasco’s back-row place was like the Neil Back of five years ago. Not that there’s much wrong with the Back of now, mind you; it’s just that he’s become less of a link than a cog.
Scotland and Wales struggled. Scotland played to the limit of their powers for much of the time. Their pack supplied plenty of ball. They tried to be inventive. But they lack speed. And the noises coming out of the country do not suggest that things are going to get faster overnight.
Playing numbers remain shrunken and the money belt is going to be tightened. God, don’t say they are going to have to do a Wales and vanish off the rugby map for a while.
Wales, whitewashed. Says it all, really. Except — and you can accuse me of bias — Wales will be all the better for having had a crisis. Firstly, because they quite like a mess, it gives them a chance to moan. In Wales it isn’t insults that are hurled, but grumbles. Well, unfortunately, the moaning must stop. A peace deal has been made and the professional game is about to become professional for the first time.
For England the immediate future is about what to do to win the World Cup. Candour or spin? For Wales, it is good simply to have a future. Straight up. —