New face of an old enemy

By CHRIS RATTUE

It's a pity that the English rugby team will not be in New Zealand longer than it takes to troop their incredibly large party around Wellington and New Plymouth for a couple of games.

Two weeks may not be long enough for 47-year-old Clive Woodward - the head of this conglomerate of established stars, journeymen, remote World Cup hopefuls, coaches and support staff - to reveal his truly colourful side.

England are the team New Zealanders love to hate, and since Will Carling has departed into the society pages, Woodward might as well be a target for our barbs.

We really should thank England for standing their ground, giving credibility to the trench warfare that test rugby should be, and stopping the rot in Europe that has led to the other Home Unions often turning up as cannon fodder - sometimes while badly mimicking Southern Hemisphere ways they should leave on their TV screens.

But English rugby will never get an even break, not in these parts. And neither will Woodward.

What we see of the head coach will probably depend on circumstances.

If not proactive, Woodward is definitely and famously reactive at times. If a few embers are lying around, he is quite prepared to fling the petrol.

He has involved himself in a spat with former England first five-eighth Rob Andrew, and treated Australia, New Zealand and South Africa with contempt by taking a substandard team on tour five years ago.

During that tour he castigated All Blacks coach John Hart for entering referee Wayne Erickson's dressing room in the Dunedin test at halftime.

Hart wanted to clarify a ruling. Woodward, whose side were crushed 64-22, thought he'd uncovered rugby's Watergate.

He then found some real controversy.

In Cape Town, Woodward dragged his team out of their hotel after finding the Springboks juniors were also in-house.

He then booked his charges into 20 rooms at the republic's swankiest inn on his own credit card.

He was in a droll mood before the press in Wellington this week as the local media searched for the rugby deep and meaningful.

It was a slightly edgy but diplomatic opening to this "tour", which is designed to keep the home troops polishing the muskets rather than firing them just yet.

"Does that make sense what I said?" he asked at one point, after travelling down a few blind alleys.

Woodward bristled slightly when asked if England would play to their traditions of pragmatic and often static rugby against the All Blacks and Wallabies.

England often carried a lot of baggage, Woodward retorted, and not in reference to all the luggage 52 characters need on a tour of only three games.

On England's struggle to match their imposing home record away from Twickenham, he replied: "We try to throw matches at Twickenham, but we keep failing."

And then: "I hear we still play on wet muddy pitches ... that we won't win the World Cup because we're used to playing in grass a foot deep. Twickenham is as fast as any pitch in the world."

The length of the grass didn't matter when Woodward, a dashing centre, played 21 tests for England in the early 1980s.

Those were the days when English backs, outside of the first five-eighths, were considered to have the best seats in the house.

Woodward, the son of an RAF pilot and educated at a naval college, went to Australia for a couple of years, then found instant success as a club coach, winning promotions for Henley and London Irish with an expansive game.

In 1997, he became England's first fulltime professional rugby coach.

His appointment was not without rancour. The English union had publicly courted coaches around the world to replace Jack Rowell, so Woodward hardly entered on a blazing vote of confidence.

His England side have had their ups and downs. They were dropkicked out of the 1999 World Cup in the Paris quarter-final by South Africa's Jannie de Beer, and while dominating in Europe, kept missing the Grand Slam - which Woodward won as a player in 1980 - until this year.

But there have been significant victories and a growing confidence in a more complete game under Woodward. The brilliant Jonny Wilkinson must be pivotal to the plan.

Woodward's recipe involves plenty of ingredients. He has studied sports science, has a support crew the size of a rugby team and, like his former assistant John Mitchell, revels in the scientific approach.

And he cuts his cloth to fit. England don't have the range of attacking firepower in their backs that New Zealand, in particular, have right now, so there is little reason for them to venture far from seeking and relying on forward dominance.

They could have an edge there, and Wilkinson can kick goal after goal with territorial advantage and in an age of highly technical - or is that overzealous - refereeing.

South Africa - who also have a history of forward power and kick-crazy first five-eighths - sometimes seem tempted to expand beyond their ability, but you surmise that under Woodward the English will only follow suit if their personnel allow.

And he doesn't have the wide appeal of the mad-dash Super 12 carnival gnawing at his best instincts.

"There's a lot of myths you have to carry with you as a coach but test-match rugby is about winning," he said.

"You don't get points or pats on the back for style. It's about winning."




INSIDE TRACK:


Body1: NAME: Clive Woodward


AGE: 47


BORN: Ely, Cambridgeshire


FAMILY: Married to Jayne, three children


HONOURS: OBE


PLAYED FOR: Harlequins, Leicester, Manly, England (1980 - 84), British Lions (1980 & 1983)


COACHED: Manly, Henley, London Irish, Bath, England under-21s (1994-97), England (since November, 1997)


TESTS: England 21, Lions 0


POINTS: 16