England Rugby - February 2006

by Ed Budge 

Disclaimer: This article will not make reference to the squad named for the Wales encounter this weekend. My murderous anger does not belong in print.

For starters, it cannot be worse than last year. In fact, if England's performance in this year's VI Nations championship even approaches last season's calamitous fourth-placed finish, then we can forget it. The lot of it. Forget retaining the World Cup, forget restoring pride, forget forgetting the past. To be brutally frank, forget English rugby altogether if Andy Robinson's team finish any lower than second.

The VI Nations is never an easy tournament (one can only hope it boasts a higher standard of rugby than 2005's turgid affair), and the Heineken Cup has made its dangers much easier to locate than in years gone by. Not even a trip to Paris is fraught with mystery anymore as the Yannicks lie in wait. Monsieurs Nyanga and Jauzion are ready to take the World of rugby apart, one country at a time, with the Tricolores following in their blistering wake. Munster's pack (to all intents and purposes, the Ireland pack) taught the Premiership leaders, Sale, a thing or two, while a chap called Brian waltzed around, through and over Bath with apologetic ease at the Rec last weekend. And then there's Wales, installed as pre-tournament favourites by Robinson. Although, Mike Ruddock will have to pull something special together, his four feeder regions having leaked 150 points between then in the last round of HEC pool games. England are not expecting a stroll in the parks of Europe's capitals, but the competition is eminently winnable.

The rules of entry to rugby's top table are strict. You can hover around with a tray of drinks for as long as you please, but until you have beaten an existing member you may not sit down. While they might have spilt a glass or two on South Africa as they crossed paths near the door in 2004, England have not toppled a member since the last World Cup. France are next, and despite the nature of the fixture, being as it is, on foreign soil, there is no reason to see it as anything but a game to win.

Forgetting all journalistic protocol, I am now a full three paragraphs into an article about English rugby and I am yet to mention Lawrence Dallaglio. His inclusion in the bloated wider squad was nothing at which to be surprised, alarmed or even interested, really. It is what Robinson plans to do next with this monolith of rugby - unearthed with a mere 73 caps and enough silverware to keep Heinrich Schliemann busy for months - which will be most interesting. With Martin Corry named as captain in another chronic case of enforced rigidity, Dallaglio in unlikely to have the number 8 shirt bestowed upon him any time soon and he is, for now, benched.

In doing this, Robinson has backed himself well and truly into another corner. Firstly, because his inclusion in the XXII has denied Magnus Lund the chance that his form has deserved and his youth merits. Secondly, what in the name of all that is good and holy is he going to do if Dallaglio emerges from the bench and plays the socks off his captain? The obvious answer being to mumble a few useless platitudes into a line of press microphones and change absolutely nothing. It could be worse, though; he could play both men (as if his claims to a mobile pack weren't looking flimsy enough already). While it might be an inspiration to have both great men in the same dressing room, it would have opposition flankers polishing their heels, and fly-halves re-upholstering their armchairs.

Speaking of matters of pace, Dallaglio's inclusion has done a wonderful job of directing the media's attention away from England's backs. One can only hope that Harry Ellis can nail down his place and form a delightfully gifted extension to the forward platform in tandem with Charlie Hodgson, but it is from the centres backwards (two words which I do not wish to pair again this spring) that there are issues to be resolved, still. There is something of a Curate's egg scenario about it all, in that there are five places to be filled, and in my opinion, five World-class or potentially World-class players available to fill them.

Then what's the big problem? Look at the names: Cueto, Lewsey, Simpson-Daniel, Varndell and Voyce. The finest crop of wingers England have ever seen, and the finest pride in the World outside of New Zealand. There is a way to get them all on the field in one go, but what would it take from Robinson? Bravery? Lunacy? Not two words that one usually associates with our illustrious head coach, although it could be argued that Mike Tindall's continued inclusion is just the kind of lunacy England are after. It is not.

Fantasy is what it is. Whimsical pipe-dreaming talk of a back-division in which every single player is a threat, one-on-one, and has a brain in his head to release the others. England's football team have demonstrated the pitfalls of shoehorning your best players recklessly into a side, but any rugby fan whose juices are not positively cascading at the thought of Ellis, Hodgson, Voyce, Lewsey, Simpson-Daniel, Varndell and Cueto lining up together, in that order, is a rugby fan in need of an urgent gland transplant. Pace to burn; guile to make a wizards' tea-party look like an accountants' luncheon; flair to make Les Bleus look like Les Grises; did I mention the pace?

It can be done. It probably shouldn't be, but it can. Tom Varndell may be a little green, and light in defence, Josh Lewsey may not be an inside centre, all told, but with just a dash of Olly Barkley or Stuart Abbott it doesn't look nearly as unbalanced, but remains just as dangerous. It has to be a goal of Robinson's, in the short or the long-term, to get as many of those men into his plans as is humanly possible. A little bravery and, yes, maybe even a little lunacy, is what it will most likely take to win the VI Nations, and take back England's seat at the top*.

*Some balls would probably help, too.

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