White Gold

by Peter Burns

  ‘As in the 1995 semi-final,’ wrote Matt Dawson in Nine Lives, ‘it was Jonah Lomu who was the difference. With the scores tied at 16–16 the ball headed in his direction, and before it even reached him I had this feeling of impending doom. It was one of those moments when you look up and your heart sinks. I could tell he was going to skin Jerry Guscott on the outside, and then it would be me in his path. I tried to go high and generally get in the way. He swatted me off but I stayed on my feet. Then Matt Perry went in and got boomed, then I tried again by jumping on his back. He didn’t even break stride. Even Lawrence Dallaglio could not stop Jonah, who went over the line with three of us clinging to him.’

  ‘I remember, as a child, I was being chased and I ran into the road and into the side of a car,’ said Guscott. ‘A split-second earlier and I would have been squashed, but I hit the side of the car and I bounced off it. I was shocked and didn’t really know what had happened. It was exactly the same when I tried to tackle Jonah at Twickenham. I didn’t quite have the right angle on him and he just brushed me off as if to say “Go away”.

  ‘I don’t think any international rugby player would openly admit to a fear of tackling him, you just hope you don’t find yourself isolated in a one-on-one against him. To stand a chance of stopping him, you have to get the right angle, and your technique has to be so precise. Head-on, you have to hope he falls over you. From the side, you have to go low and try to tackle him round his ankles, because his thighs are so big. But he has such a huge reach and such a powerful hand-off that it’s hard to get anywhere near him.’

  New Zealand pushed on to win 30–16 and earned themselves a quarter-final spot against Scotland in Edinburgh. The defeat left England with the harder route to the final – one that they had hoped to avoid. They had to play Fiji in a quarter-final qualifier at Twickenham and then, if they came through that, they had to travel to Paris for a quarter-final with South Africa.

  Although the scoreboard against Fiji suggested a comfortable win, it proved to be a bruising encounter and several players picked up knocks and injuries – including the iconic centre Guscott, who strained his groin. After the medical staff assessed his injury the prognosis was that his injury would prevent him from playing again until after the conclusion of the tournament; in light of this, Guscott officially announced his retirement from the international game the following day. It was the end of an era.

  That same day, Thursday, England travelled to Paris for just two days of preparation before facing the Springboks at Stade de France. The South Africans, meanwhile, had topped their pool after defeating Scotland at Murrayfield in their first match and had been able to field a second-choice XV against Spain and Uruguay before travelling to Paris for a full week of quality preparation.

  ‘I spoke to Nick Mallett, then their head coach, some time later,’ said Johnson, ‘and he said that once they had beaten the Scots they spent the next three weeks preparing for us. Their squad players had all had a good run-out and they were mentally and physically fresh, whereas guys like myself and Lawrence had started every game and we were all knackered.’

  Woodward had looked at the tapes of England’s pool game against the All Blacks and decided that Grayson should wear the No.10 shirt. It was a controversial call, but after Wilkinson’s average performance against New Zealand, Woodward was probably damned if he did, damned if he didn’t when it came to fly-half selection. But it wasn’t the England No.10 who made the headlines in that game.

  Nick Mallett, with his fresh, powerful squad, had got his tactics spot-on. The Springboks forwards nullified their opponents in the set-piece and at the breakdown, securing quick clean ball for their scrum-half, Joost van der Westhuizen. He in turn fed his fly-half, Jannie de Beer, who boomed long touch-finders into England’s territory if play was anywhere near the South African try-line. And when the Springboks moved into England’s half, de Beer retreated deep into the pocket behind the ruck and fired off drop-goal after drop-goal. The accuracy and distance of his kicking were remarkable. He said in the aftermath that he had felt touched by God that day – and his kicking really did have an otherworldly feel to it. He just didn’t ever look like missing.

  ‘His kicks were going over from miles out and we just couldn’t get pressure on him to try and affect his accuracy,’ said Johnson.

  ‘You could tell they had worked it out,’ said Dallaglio. ‘England defend well, so let’s set up drop-goal chances. What really annoyed me was the fact that none of us could get near de Beer, who sat so far back in the pocket that he was untouchable.’

  ‘Once they nosed ahead we had nothing left,’ said Johnson. ‘And although we fought as hard as we could, we just weren’t able to come back.’

  While agreeing that de Beer’s drop-goals were decisive in securing the result, Will Greenwood was more analytical in his appraisal of the difference between the teams. ‘South Africa were just bigger and better than us,’ said the centre. ‘De Beer’s goals were no more than a statistical blip diverting attention from the plain fact that we were well beaten on the day.’

  ‘Clive must have thought he was out of a job,’ said Richard Hill. ‘He had asked to be judged on the World Cup and we had fallen short of England’s performances in 1991, when they reached the final, and 1995, when they got to the last four. Clive, though, was adamant he could still do something with us. It would have been very easy for the Rugby Football Union to replace him, but they stuck with him and it proved the right move. It gave the team stability and gave us the chance to develop as a group.’

  ‘You learn from experiences like that,’ said Dallaglio, ‘and over the following seasons, Clive never let us forget how we felt on the journey home from Paris. Any booklet he produced for us carried photos of us at the end of that game and there was one wonderful shot of Backy crouching down on all fours, utterly distraught... Another photo showed Johnno and I looking hopelessly over our shoulders at a de Beer drop-goal as it flew between the posts. Clive touched a raw nerve and when he saw us wince with pain, he touched it again and again.’

  SIX

  THE ANATOMY OF BUILDING A WORLD-CLASS TEAM

  ‘Some people dream of success... others stay awake to achieve it.’

  Anonymous

  DESPITE ALL HIS efforts to the contrary, Woodward confessed, in his review of the World Cup to the RFU management board, that the team were still working in a ‘fingers-crossed environment’. He had begun a process in 1997 to eradicate the ‘what ifs’ of sport as much as he could so that the team could exist in an environment of no excuses. But the process was not finished and there was still a lot more that could be done. The structure of the tournament had not helped – after the loss to New Zealand they had been set on a path from where victory in the tournament would have been nigh on impossible – but he accepted that this was true for every team involved. What he didn’t want to accept was that, despite their preparation, the team could not cope under the most severe pressure. He laid out his recommendations for moving the team forward, which included requests for the RFU to negotiate with the clubs for greater access to the players and with the IRB over the structure of the World Cup and the scheduling of fixtures.

  ‘The 44–21 World Cup quarter-final loss to South Africa in 1999 was my most significant defeat as England coach,’ wrote Woodward in the Daily Mail some fourteen years later. ‘We were pummelled. After that loss I compiled a bullet-point plan of how to create success from setbacks. Go home, shut the door and get it out of your system. There were no positives, you got smashed. Grieve for forty-eight hours – then come out fighting. When things go well you credit everybody else. When things go wrong the only person you look at is yourself. This is a “mirror moment”. Take full responsibility, make sure everything you do is geared towards winning the next Test match and nothing else should be in your head. Look at the personnel around you – players, coaching staff and back-room staff. Do not be scared to admit you should have done things differently. Make tough calls and make
them quickly. Analyse every key decision, not just during the eighty minutes but during the week. This is the perfect time to see who really fronts up to problems and who hides. Do not use age as an excuse as you select the team. Don’t forget perspective. Concentrate on successes, not failure, and go back to what made you a good team – while realising you must reach another level to win at the very top.’

  He delivered a twenty-six-page report to the board and it was largely well received – but not universally so. Just a few days later the report was leaked to a national newspaper and Woodward’s efforts to push the organisation forward were picked apart as nothing more than excuses for the team’s disappointing campaign. For several weeks the calls for his head were intense.

  But the RFU held fire. Woodward was contracted until the end of the summer of 2000. While they made no promises to extend his contract beyond that, they were throwing him a lifeline. He had the 2000 Six Nations and a summer tour to South Africa to convince them that he was the man to guide the team through to the 2003 World Cup. He was backed by Fran Cotton, who was now running the Club England organisation within the RFU, Francis Baron, who understood that the success of the national team was the most important element for the success of the RFU as an organisation and who bought into Woodward’s philosophy entirely, and by the players themselves, who publicly endorsed his continued involvement.

  The target for 2003 was to arrive at the tournament with the best prepared group of players, as the No.1-ranked side in the world, and as favourites to lift the trophy. The four-year cycle before the next World Cup would be focused on achieving exactly that status.

  After the humiliating defeat in the quarter-final, the RFU were desperate for the situation not to repeat itself and were willing to listen to Woodward’s demands for change – and to action many of his plans.

  In the middle of December, Woodward announced the move from England’s traditional base at the Petersham Hotel in Richmond to Pennyhill Park in Bagshot, Surrey. Pennyhill Park was just thirty minutes from Twickenham but it seemed like a world away. Set in 130 acres of immaculate estate land, the five-star ivy-covered hotel was a truly exclusive location. On entering the grounds, a long driveway snakes up to the hotel, passing a golf course to the right, while off to the left a purpose-built rugby ground had been constructed for England’s use.

  The previously established pattern for a Test week would see the team arrive on a Tuesday and be based at the Petersham, because it was relatively close to Twickenham. But as there were no training facilities at the hotel they would be bussed to some nearby pitches owned by the Bank of England and ferried back and forth throughout the day for training, meals, meetings and further training sessions. All the travelling to and fro was a waste of valuable time – especially when, because of the structure of professional rugby in England, the players spent such limited periods in the national set-up. They were also only allowed on the pitch at Twickenham the afternoon before a Test match for a light run-through. All this had to change.

  The move to Pennyhill Park ensured that the logistics of training days and Test match weeks ran much more smoothly and with fewer distractions.

  Every player was assigned his own room and Humphrey Walters had worked closely with Woodward on the finer details. The players had their name on their door, pictures of them in action for England adorned the walls and they were always allocated the same room so that there was a sense of familiarity whenever they came into camp.

  The Pecorelli family, who owned the hotel, were incredibly open to the team’s demands. Not only did they upgrade their gym facilities, but they converted a large lawn into a full-scale rugby pitch so that the players had only a three-minute walk from the hotel to the pitch. The larger hotel allowed for a much bigger war room and because there was no travelling between the training ground and their accommodation as had been the case at the Petersham Hotel, the team were able to keep all their kit and training equipment permanently set up in one place.

  Jason Leonard, who was by now the longest serving member of the squad, said at the time, ‘Everything is laid on, everything is beautifully organised, down to the last detail. But what that creates is a no-excuses environment. Before in England teams, people might say that the beds were uncomfortable or the food didn’t agree with them or that their back was playing up. All that has gone. The back-up and the coaching and the medical assessments and treatment are spot on. The perks are nice but if you don’t perform, you are out.’

  Other changes were also made. A deal with a bus company was struck so that the team had their own luxury coach emblazoned with the England red rose. They would take this bus to and from Twickenham and would even bring it over to France with them so that they could arrive at Stade de France in it – making a statement as to who they were and the lengths that they would go to to demonstrate their professionalism.

  Woodward conducted a review of his first two years in charge, analysing every aspect from off-field preparation to the team’s performances on it. Despite losing in the World Cup to South Africa’s cold and calculated tactic of scoring drop-goal after drop-goal, and discovering a new resolve that winning really was all that the team would be remembered for, he did not abandon his lifelong passion for attacking rugby and his desire to inspire the nation with their style of play. The problem had been that with such a short period of time with the players he and Brian Ashton had had very little opportunity to develop the England attack in the way that a club coach could. When they had encouraged the backline to stand flatter, edging towards Woodward’s own ideal for a completely flat backline, they had caused teams all manner of problems – as they had done against New Zealand in the second Test in the autumn of 1997. ‘It was a milestone game for Clive,’ said Will Greenwood of that New Zealand Test, ‘not just in terms of the result and the self-belief it engendered, but also because he tried a different game plan in which Paul Grayson and myself played flat rather than very deep like England midfields in the past. The idea was to get us to probe and test the opposition from close quarters, and it seemed to work very well.’

  A major issue – which would not be resolved during his tenure – was that his midfield players all lacked out-and-out pace. But they were clever footballers, were strong in contact and could all play an offloading game. Dave Reddin could, and would, work on their speed and footwork, but he wouldn’t be able to transform them into Olympic-standard sprinters. This didn’t necessarily preclude the players from playing a flat backline attack because the key to its success was based on handling skills, angles of running, dummy runners and off-loading. But if they didn’t also possess the ability to burst with real speed on to the ball or accelerate swiftly from a standing start, then defences would, in time, work them out and stifle their attacking play.

  So a hybrid attacking system would have to be conceived, something that conjured some elements of an Ella-inspired flat attack and a more traditional staggered backline. Ashton got down to work.

  *

  England’s first match of the 2000 Six Nations saw them face Ireland at Twickenham. The game featured debuts for centre Mike Tindall and wing Ben Cohen, two hugely powerful young players who would go on to become almost permanent fixtures in the team over the next few years.

  It was a performance that exorcised many of the World Cup ghosts, a physically dominant, brilliantly creative and free-flowing annihilation. The team scored tries through Tindall and two each for Cohen on one wing and Austin Healey on the other to record a 50–18 victory.

  ‘Clive approached the 2000 Six Nations with a nothing-to-lose attitude,’ said Matt Dawson, ‘taking risks and making all the selections he really wanted to make. His game plan combined razor-sharp attack with rock-solid defence... We came into the Six Nations as probably the fittest side in the world. And we played like it. We were relentless. Speaking to the Irish boys afterwards it was obvious they were very down, but they had to admit they had been run ragged because we attacked them from every area of the pitch.
’

  What was also significant in that game was Mike Catt’s performance. It was his fortieth cap but one of his few forays into the centre, having also played at fly-half, full-back and wing. But placed as a second playmaker beside Wilkinson, he was a revelation. His handling skills, speed and kicking game not only allowed for a new attacking dimension in the midfield and offered another creative option in broken play, but also gave Wilkinson an ally outside him – another player who could call plays, tell him where to kick or to shoulder the responsibility for both should Wilkinson find himself under pressure. It was a partnership that would bear considerable fruit over the coming years.

  From an analysis point of view, one might have thought that there would be little of real significance to look at following such a decisive win: the eighteen points conceded, perhaps; poor discipline in range of their own posts; handling errors or mistakes made at set-pieces. But what Tony Biscombe picked up when he watched the tape was more abstract – it was a worrying trend that he had been aware of for several matches.

  Noticeably against the All Blacks and Springboks during the World Cup and again against Ireland, England had started strongly for the opening quarter and built up an early lead. As both teams settled into the first half, the game would even out – as could be expected against top opposition. But England tended to have a lull in concentration and effort immediately after half-time, which would often last through the third quarter of the match, before they came back into the game and attempted a late fight back.

  ‘I watched Pete Sampras playing at Wimbledon and he changed his shirt on court,’ Humphrey Walters told Alison Kervin. ‘And, bloody hell, he suddenly looked fresh as a daisy. I watched and realised that Sampras almost always picked the moment when his opponent thought he was about to win.’