White Gold

by Peter Burns

  Walters discussed this with Woodward and they decided to give the tactic a try at half-time. They called it ‘the reset’ and psychologically it gave the players a shift in focus. They completely reworked the half-time routine so that the change of shirt became a catalyst for what they would term ‘Second Half Thinking’. As soon as the referee blew for half-time, Woodward wanted his team to run off to the tunnel – preferably leaving the field ahead of the opposition. When they entered the changing room he wanted absolute silence for two minutes while the players reflected on the first half while removing their shirts, towelling off and then pulling on fresh shirts. The coaches would then give their feedback on the first half and issue their instructions for the second while the players took on food and fluids. The captain would then have his say and there would be a further two minutes of silence as the players focused on the second half, mentally resetting the scoreboard in their heads to 0–0 and preparing themselves to begin the second half as they had begun the first.

  They first instigated the practice at Stade de France and the change in shirts and attitude had as powerful a psychological impact on the French as it had on the England players. Just as with Sampras, England suddenly looked and seemed fresh and when the whistle blew they tore into Les Bleus. France, who had dismantled the All Blacks in the semi-final of the 1999 World Cup in one of the greatest matches ever played, before losing to Australia in the final, were fielding one of their largest ever packs of forwards – which is really saying something. But England cleverly shifted the gargantuan French eight around the field, smashing into them with their flat midfield, looking to set a platform for the forwards or to offload to the outside backs and thereby pressurise the home team into conceding penalties. During the match, Wilkinson performed one of the most iconic tackles in the game’s history when he smashed France’s huge winger Émile Ntamack, who accelerated on to the ball and then crashed into Wilkinson. England’s fearless fly-half lifted the huge man off his feet, spun him in the air and buried him back into the turf. It was a defining moment in Wilkinson’s career. If the rugby world hadn’t yet woken up to Wilkinson’s talents, it did now. And in the same moment it redefined what was expected of fly-halves in the professional game; no longer were No.10s expected just to create – they were now expected to destroy.

  Wilkinson kicked five penalties and, even though they were reduced to just thirteen men at one stage when both Austin Healey and second-row Simon Shaw were sin-binned, they clung on to record a famous 15–9 win.

  ‘It was a slim margin,’ said Woodward. ‘Just one score by the French, one intercept try, was all it would have taken to reverse the result... If we had lost that game I have no doubt I would not have been allowed to carry on even if I wanted to.’

  Next they faced Wales at Twickenham. The first half was a tight affair with England hooker Phil Greening’s score all that separated the sides at half-time. But aided by their new half-time routine, England cut loose in the second period, scoring tries through Ben Cohen and one apiece for the marauding back-row trio of Dallaglio, Hill and Back to win 46–12.

  The fourth game of the championship saw them travel to Rome to play the new boys of the tournament, Italy. The Azzurri had shocked defending champions Scotland in the first round and there was a carnival atmosphere in the Eternal City. But England spoiled the home team’s party with a 59–12 win, thanks to a hat-trick from Austin Healey, two tries each from Ben Cohen and Matt Dawson and a penalty try.

  And so it was to Edinburgh for the final game of the tournament – with a Grand Slam once again on the table.

  After a relatively mild start to the year, the heavens had opened and a chill wind swept across the east coast of Scotland as the plane carrying the team touched down at Edinburgh airport. For twenty-four hours the rain fell, covering the city in a thick, swirling miasma. In the hours before kick-off the rain at last relented and watery sunlight filled the cavernous bowl of Murrayfield. But by two o’clock, just as the anthems were drawing to a close, the clouds had gathered once more, pressing in over the Firth of Forth and rolling out over the city, bringing with them a light but persistent drizzle that set in over Murrayfield towards the end of the first half. By the the second half that drizzle had developed into a downpour. Very soon it became a deluge. Despite conceding a try off the back of a scrum to Lawrence Dallaglio, Scotland were succeeding in their tactics to stifle quick English ball and slow their backs’ attack at its source. England had thrown the ball around at will in their previous matches but the rain and a determined Scottish defence were hindering their attack – and to make matters worse, they began to struggle at the line-out.

  Scotland’s stand-off, Duncan Hodge, was keeping his side in the game with his goal-kicking – and it was he who sealed the game late on when he dived over the line after a series of pick-and-go drives from the forwards. His conversion made the score 19–13 and the Calcutta Cup was in Scottish hands for the first time in a decade.

  For the second consecutive year, England had stumbled at the final hurdle. They had looked to play too much rugby in the wrong areas of the field and, despite the appalling conditions in Edinburgh, they had stuck to trying to play an expansive handling game, while the Scots had adapted their tactics perfectly to the weather.

  Just as they had done against Wales in 1999, the team played desperation rugby in the final minutes as they chased the winning score. But it had been largely headless stuff – wild passes, lone running, hit and hope tactics rather than composed and methodical play that would build towards the score.

  It was not a question of ability. It was a question of mental strength and composure. The lessons of the Marines echoed all around the video analysis suite at Pennyhill Park.

  As further proof of the lengths that Woodward would go to to develop and hone a winning culture for his team, he flew to Israel to meet a man named Yehuda Shinar, who had developed a computer program for identifying leadership characteristics in individuals and testing their ability to perform in high-pressure situations – and subsequently training them to do just that.

  Many of the players were sceptical – and some even outwardly critical – of the program. ‘It was this ridiculous Mossad thing,’ said Martin Johnson. ‘All the young guys who played computer games were amazing at it, the older guys like me were rubbish. We couldn’t believe it when Clive said he would base Test match selection on how we did in it.’ But one principle of Shinar’s that was effectively adopted was ‘Correctly Thinking Under Pressure’. This was adapted by Woodward first to ‘Thinking Correctly Under Pressure’ and from there shortened to T-CUP. It became an acronym that would be repeated time after time at team meetings, video analysis sessions and during matches themselves – a reminder of moments when the team had buckled under pressure in the past, a keyword that focused their thoughts and altered their mindsets so that they could force an element of control over proceedings and decide with clarity the best course of action for the situation they were in – be they attacking or defending. ‘It is the ability to control aggression, to know when to push the referee, when to slow the ball down or have your prop fake an injury,’ said Will Greenwood. ‘It is knowing when to take the points, play for territory or unleash the blitz. It is a catch-all phrase that sums up a player’s ability to stay cool and do the right thing. In short, it is knowing how to win.’

  *

  In total, eight new players had been handed Test debuts during the Six Nations. The summer tour would provide an opportunity to hand out some more and to bed the new players into the Test environment. It was also the final spin of the dice for Woodward to convince the RFU that he was deserving of a contract extension to the 2003 World Cup.

  At the conclusion of the Six Nations, John Mitchell returned to his native New Zealand and Woodward moved swiftly to appoint his old partner from his England Under-21 and Bath days, Andy Robinson.

  ‘Andy was the last piece in the jigsaw in creating a group of world-class coaches in all areas of the ga
me,’ said Woodward. ‘Andy is the most competitive person I have ever met. Once he was on board, I believed winning the World Cup was a very real possibility. His coaching ability is significantly ahead of any other coach working in the sport, but what made him such an important person within our team was his ability to transfer this expertise to all the players.’

  Also added to the back-room team was Nathan Martin, a former Marine Woodward had met during the pre-World Cup training camps in 1999. Martin assumed the role as England’s first full-time team manager.

  The players flew to South Africa in business class and Woodward made it clear that their wives and girlfriends were welcome to come on tour if they wished. He wanted his players to be as comfortable as possible and for there to be no excuses for them not to perform when it came to the business-end of their jobs.

  It was a five-match tour with midweek games against Western Transvaal Leopards, Griqualand West, Gauteng Falcons and two Tests against the Springboks – at Loftus Versfeld in Pretoria and in Bloemfontein. Martin Johnson was back to lead the side after missing the Six Nations through injury.

  It had been a long season by that stage – from the tour to Australia the previous summer to the World Cup training camps and warm-up games, the tournament itself, club league and cup games, the Six Nations and then the conclusion to the club season. The last thing that the players needed was another Couran Cove-style hard slog through South Africa as they had experienced in Australia a year earlier. Woodward and Reddin appreciated this and tailored their training loads accordingly. They knew that the only chance they had for a successful tour was to keep their players fresh and injury-free, so they backed off from intense training and instead concentrated on improving the analysis of their performances and the strengths and weaknesses of their opposition. They focused on making sure the players believed that they could win in South Africa and they tapped into the experience of the Lions players who had been there and done just that in 1997.

  ‘You can really feel the change around the England team on our summer tour to South Africa,’ wrote Wilkinson in Jonny. ‘Everything feels so professional – where we are training, how we are training. Clive wants to lead change in international rugby, rather than waiting and following. We are not copying anyone. The desire now is to set the pace.’

  The team based themselves at the five-star Westcliff Hotel in Johannesburg for the duration of the tour to reduce the disruption of constantly moving hotels, and flew in and out from there for their matches. Three months before the tour, Dave Reddin was sent on a recce of the hotel to ensure that the facilities were up to scratch. Nothing was going to be left to chance. ‘The hotel is ideal,’ said Wilkinson. ‘But the point is that this is no longer about touring. It’s about winning.’

  They won their first midweek game 52–22 to get the tour off to a positive start and move on from the defeat to Scotland.

  Wilkinson had to withdraw from the side on the morning of the first Test after suffering food poisoning and was replaced at fly-half by Austin Healey. Tim Stimpson, who had been brought in on the wing after Healey’s change of position, was cruelly denied a try by the video referee and a late penalty sealed the match 18–13 to South Africa. ‘It was pretty disappointing,’ said Johnson. ‘But given what had happened in the World Cup and the fact that we were playing in such a hotbed like Pretoria, it was a good performance.’

  Dallaglio also made a startling discovery after the match. He left an England dressing room of disappointed and frustrated players who felt disgusted at themselves for letting such a golden opportunity to record a win in the southern hemisphere pass them by. Dallaglio wandered down the corridor to the South African changing room to swap shirts with his opposite number, Andre Vos. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected. ‘There were bodies everywhere,’ he recalled, ‘bandages being taken off, ice-packs on knees and heads, players having wounds checked and everyone too shattered to talk... They were completely gone whereas I felt we still had 20 to 30 per cent of our energy left. At that moment I knew we would take these guys the following week. I also knew that in their bruised and smashed state, they now respected us. With that thought came the certainty that we were no longer the old England.’

  During the week the second-string side ran out 55–16 winners against Griqualand West before the squad flew up to Bloemfontein for the second Test.

  The first team squad had enjoyed a light week, with a night out together on the Sunday after the first Test and two rest days before beginning their preparation for the second Test. They arrived in Bloemfontein refreshed and ready for another brutal encounter.

  Before the first Test, Woodward and Tony Biscombe had taken Wilkinson aside. They sat in the war room at the Westcliff Hotel and picked over England’s attack in the opposition 22 when the defensive line was set and well organised. It was Wilkinson’s mindset to always go for the try, to keep working through the phases until a chink emerged in the defence.

  ‘But statistically, that’s the wrong decision,’ said Woodward.

  ‘Why?’ asked Wilkinson.

  ‘Look,’ said Woodward, and Biscombe started a montage of England attacks that ended with a dropped ball, a turnover from the defence, a penalty given away by England or the ball going out of play.

  ‘Every time the opposition keep us out, it’s a victory to them. Their chests puff out, their shoulders square, they’re jacked up on adrenaline, patting each other on the back. Their team spirit rises. And what happens to us? We grow more desperate. The next time we’re down there we feel we have to score a try, we have to prove we can do it, we feel we have to make up for our previous failure to score.’ Up flashed the final moments from the Grand Slam decider against Wales and Scotland. ‘There is no composure,’ continued Woodward. ‘We are chasing the game rather than controlling it.’

  A new montage popped up. Jannie de Beer’s five drop-goals against England at the World Cup; Stephen Larkham’s extra-time winning drop-goal against South Africa in one World Cup semi-final; Christophe Lamaison’s two drop-goals against New Zealand in the other that put them ahead against the All Blacks; finally, Jeremy Guscott’s winning drop-goal against South Africa for the Lions in 1997.

  ‘If we come up against a brick wall, I don’t even want you to think about it,’ said Woodward. ‘I want you to take the drop-goal. I want us to keep the scoreboard ticking over as much as we can. Every time we are down in the opposition 22, I want us leaving with points. Preferably tries, but if that’s not going to happen, I want three points. That’s a victory for us.’ He rewound the tape to a moment after de Beer’s fourth drop-goal and paused it. The camera frame was frozen on the dejected faces of the England defence as they watched the ball sailing between the uprights. ‘And that’s what we want to do to them. And the more we do it, the more relentless we are at scoring, the more they will desperately try to stop us – which will lead to them giving away penalties or opening up gaps in their defence. Teams will fear us.’

  Wilkinson’s withdrawal from the team before the first Test meant that he hadn’t had the chance to put Woodward’s plan into action. But he had locked it in his memory for the second Test.

  The match was fast and furious and the atmosphere at the ground in Bloemfontein was as hostile as it was in Pretoria.

  ‘And then it happens,’ recalls Wilkinson. ‘I take the ball one way to attack and then, as if a lightbulb’s suddenly flicked on in my head, I stop. I’m right in front of the posts, not far from the 22. I take the drop-goal. It flies through the posts.’

  Wilkinson claimed all of England’s points in a famous 27–22 win.

  ‘Without doubt, it was a turning point in the development of the team,’ said Dallaglio. ‘We had come to South Africa and drawn the Test series 1–1 but we all knew we should have won it 2–0... That tour convinced us all that Clive was the right man. For one thing, his attention to detail meant that the logistics of the three-week tour could not have been better. We felt like we were part
of an elite group and had someone at the top who wasn’t going to be messed around.’

  The last midweek game was against Gauteng Falcons, which was also won to complete a record of four wins out of five.

  The tour had been a huge success, but Woodward and his back-room staff had no intention of resting on their laurels. Just a few weeks after their return from Johannesburg, they were on a flight across the Atlantic for a group study of the methods employed by the University of Colorado and the Denver Broncos. After this, they travelled to Agen in France to observe the club for four days at their pre-season base in the Pyrenees. ‘When I first went to Denver I came back with a load of ideas and hugely excited by what I had seen,’ said Woodward. ‘When I went back with Andy Robinson, Brian Ashton, Phil Larder, Dave Reddin and Dave Alred, I felt reassured that what we were doing was right. When I first went I was there just to observe and pick up what I could, but when we went back there was a genuine exchange of views between the coaches on both sides. It was tremendous. But what was really interesting, however, was that in many ways I was really disappointed by that second visit – because nothing had changed. They were still doing the same training drills, the same practices. The other guys really enjoyed it because they hadn’t seen it before, but when I compared it to what we had done in that time it was astonishing the changes we had made. I remember sitting there thinking, Wow, we’re now as good as you guys. In two years we’ve caught up with you and in many ways we’re now doing things better than you – in terms of the staff we were employing, the attitudes we had, the way we were always thinking and looking to evolve and improve what we were doing. And that became a mantra that we developed – that we wanted people to be talking about us on the world stage, that we wanted people asking to come to see us.’