An A-Z guide to the rugby world cup

By CHRIS HEWETT in London

A is for Amateur: World Cup rugby is a professional game, but only for the chosen ones. Precious few nations offer their players the opportunity to earn a proper living doing what they do best; the rest, not just tournament flotsam and jetsam like Namibia and Uruguay but genuine rugby powers like Argentina and Samoa, pay peanuts or less to their home-based contingents while bidding fond farewells to those sailing off into the sunset in search of subsistence wages. This particular playing field is about as level as K2.

B is for Bands: Until this summer's Tri-Nations, Graham Price of Wales was the official holder of the "Best Try by a Tight Head in Rugby History" title for his length-of-the field trundle in Paris almost 30 years ago. Then Richard Bands happened. South Africa's new propping sensation from the remote farmlands of the high veld, whose financial circumstances were once so grim that he housed his family in a friend's garage, scored an absolute blinder against the All Blacks in Dunedin and has been dining out on it ever since. He will lead the Bokke assault on England in Perth on 18 October.

C is for Cross-coders: There are plenty of rugby leaguers in the union shop window nowadays: England are eternally grateful for Jason Robinson, while Wales are still wondering what to do with Iestyn Harris. The Wallabies, meanwhile, are desperate to see Wendell Sailor, Mat Rogers and Lote Tuqiri bring some game-breaking individualism to the green-and-gold mix. At least the refugees from 13-a-side land will discover what it is to play in a real World Cup.

D is for Drop-kicks: Jannie de Beer, anointed wielder of the "Boot of God", drop-goaled England out of the 1999 World Cup quarter-finals. This time, there is a possibility, albeit a faint one, that drawn knock-out matches will be decided by a football-style drop-goal shoot-out from the 22-metre line. England have Jonny Wilkinson, which is good news. They also have Phil Vickery, which isn't.

E is for Eales: The adoring Australian public will see plenty of John Eales, quite possibly the finest pound-for-pound player ever produced by this strange old game: he will be on every TV screen, at every official function and in the posh seats of every stadium for the duration of the competition. Unfortunately, he will not be where he is most needed – out there on the paddock. Eales retired after the 2001 Tri-Nations, and Australia haven't come close to replacing him. They have a dark, Queensland-sized hole in their team, and no idea how to fill it.

F is for Fiji: Every four years, the same old tune. Fiji, home to the most explosive rugby talent on earth but unable to prevent the likes of Joe Rokocoko playing for New Zealand instead, should be challengers, but will probably fail to make the last eight. The World Cup would be hugely enriched by a Pacific Islands team punching its weight, but a combination of emigration and financial impoverishment leaves us with bantamweights in heavyweight clothing.

G is for Geech: Generally regarded as the shrewdest coach in the international game, especially when working with the cream of the crop in a Lions context, Ian McGeechan will go hands-off the moment Scotland disappear from the tournament. Some rival coaches are certain to follow his lead in moving upstairs; others will simply find themselves out on the ears. Whatever, it is safe to say that none will be so sorely missed. The man is a legend.

H is for Howlett: The hottest wing in the world – quicker than Cohen, more direct than Robinson, more explosive than Roff, less error-prone than Rougerie. Only Howlett's fellow All Black, the prolific Rokocoko, and Christophe Dominici of France can cling to the Aucklander's shirt-tails, and the latter has been short of form at international level since carving up New Zealand in the semi-final of the 1999 tournament. Back Dangerous Doug to top the try-scoring list.

I is for Inga: Or Va'aiga Tuigamala, to give him his correct name. Newcastle's favourite God-fearing muscle merchant has reinvented himself as Samoa's technical adviser and, as such, will no doubt be advising his countrymen on the highly intricate technicalities of running headlong into anyone in an English shirt and attempting to rearrange their rib-cages – all strictly within the rules of the game, naturally. Tuigamala played four games for New Zealand in the 1991 World Cup but never fulfilled his potential on the grandest stage. Maybe this is his chance.

J is for Johnson: The most influential of all English captains, or a bad-tempered hot-head with the worst disciplinary record since Vlad the Impaler? You pays your money and you makes your choice. This much is certain: Martin Johnson is in the form of his life, and if certain people consider his aggressive style to be too much of a bad thing, Clive Woodward and the rest of the red rose hierarchy could not give a tinker's. One of the principal reasons for playing him is that opponents would rather he was somewhere else.

K is for Kirwan: John Kirwan was a magnificent All Black wing who took the first World Cup by the scruff of its infant neck – not just in the final, when he scored one of his side's three tries against France, but in the opening match, when he left 15 Italians for dead in completing an 80-metre classic without breaking a sweat. Nowadays, the Italians have him as their coach. They are in New Zealand's group, too, which makes the game in Melbourne on 11 October more interesting than it might have been.

L is for Launceston: World Cup matches have been played in some unlikely venues: Hampden Park in Glasgow was a fairly bizarre choice, especially for a game involving the mighty Uruguay, and there is no immediate prospect of a second game at Otley, despite the decades of rugby tradition at Cross Green. But Launceston? In Tasmania? Please. York Park will host the crucial contest between, er, Romania and Namibia on 30 October, and as the organisers have set the kick-off time for 8pm, it can only be assumed that electricity has reached the island.

M is for Michalak: If Didier Codorniou, the great centre from Narbonne, was known as Le Petit Prince, Frederic Michalak has what it takes to become the Sun King of French rugby. There is nothing to this slip of a lad – nothing, that is, apart from a touch of genius. He can play scrum-half, and may have to if the veteran Fabien Galthié fails to go the distance, but the Tricolores want to run him at stand-off. If his performance against England in Marseille was anything to go by, here is a player worthy of the ticket price.

N is for Not Wanted: A team of world-class players not selected for the tournament, despite their deeds of derring-do in recent seasons: Brendan Laney (Scotland), Brent Russell (South Africa), Daniel Herbert (Australia), Thomas Castaignède (France), Vincent Clerc (France); Andrew Mehrtens (New Zealand), Austin Healey (England); Graham Rowntree (England), Anton Oliver (New Zealand), Patricio Noriega (Australia), Chris Wyatt (Wales), AJ Venter (South Africa), Owen Finegan (Australia), David Wallace (Ireland), Bob Skinstad (South Africa). Oh yes, there is also a bloke called Lomu.

O is for O'Neill: John O'Neill is the chief executive of the Australian Rugby Union, the overwhelming victor in the World Cup conflict with New Zealand – he is still in a job, which is more than half the All Black hierarchy can claim – and maybe, just maybe, the International Rugby Board's chairman-in-waiting. He is a power-suited power-talker with a sharp line in put-downs, and assuming the Wallaby nation backs this event the way it backed the 2000 Olympics, he will be odds-on favourite to succeed the late Vernon Pugh as controller-in-chief of the union game.

P is for Pumas: The dark horses, as dark as the stunningly rich red wines gushing out of far-flung Mendoza. Argentina have class players throughout their side – yes, they possess backs as well as forwards – and as Clive Woodward said recently, they also have "a huge shout in this tournament". They lurk in a pool with the hosts, who are hardly in the best of shape, and Ireland, who discovered just how good the South Amercians can be in the 1999 World Cup. Interesting. Very interesting.

Q is for Queensland: Australian summers are hot; Queensland summers are extra-hot and extra-humid. England, scheduled to meet Uruguay in Brisbane and likely to play a quarter-final in the same town, will encounter a sweatshop way beyond anything they experienced in Marseille last month. Scotland, hardly one of life's natural warm-weather teams, are even worse off. They play the United States in Brisbane – bad enough – and Japan, the super-fit champions of Asia, in Townsville, which is way up the line both in terms of geography and temperature. Expect the front-rowers to shed a stone or three.

R is for Russia: There is no Russia, sadly. Having fought their way through to a repêchage decider against their traditional friends from America – what a cracking little set-to that would have been – they were nobbled for fielding some ineligible South Africans and lobbed out of the tournament by the game's governing body, the International Rugby Board. Would Wales or Scotland, those top-of-the-bill acts in the Grannygate scandal, have been cut from the tournament? Of course not. In a moment of spellbinding high-handedness, the men in suits undermined one of the most fragile yet vibrant and potential-filled developing unions in the world. Well done, the IRB.

S is for Schedule: Another scandal. The big boys – England, Aussie, the All Blacks, France – have a full week, and sometimes more, to recover from each pool match. Italy, who beat the Welsh and frightened the hell out of Scotland during the Six Nations, play their second game, against Tonga, only four days after squaring up to New Zealand. They must also play hard-ball with Canada and Wales in the space of 90-odd hours. What a joke.

T is for Television: Four years ago, ITV were charged with broadcasting the action to Britain's eager rugby public and performed their task so brilliantly that Leo Williams, the chairman of Rugby World Cup, felt honour-bound to slate them in public. He did not criticise them so much as crucify them. So what happened next? Why, ITV got the gig again – not just for 2003, but for the 2007 tournament in France, too. Logical, really. The company insist they will do the game proud this time, and they will have to. Their credibility is on the line.

U is for United States: The dearest wish of many a rugby administrator is to see the sport make a meaningful impact on the American sporting consciousness. They have visions of coast-to-coast television coverage, endless marketing opportunities and, if truth be told, frequent trips to Big Sur. But rugby, along with any number of less complex sports, has repeatedly failed to cut it Stateside, and shows no obvious sign of making progress on the back of this World Cup. Oh well. Who wants matches carved up into four quarters anyway?

V is for Van der Merwe: Schalk Van der Merwe plays flanker for Namibia, and is considered to be their best forward. He may be the best forward in the world for all anyone knows. But this much is definitely true: Van der Merwe, who lives and works in the desolate surroundings of Gobabis and often drives 200km to train and play in Windhoek, is by far the most accomplished handler of cheetahs and lions participating in this tournament, because he does it for a living. And before you laugh, remember this: Van der Merwe can do at least some of what Lawrence Dallaglio does.

W is for Waltzing Matilda: The Australians have kicked up quite a stink about this, insisting that the world's most ridiculous song be played after the national anthems. The tournament directors have knocked them back: Waltzing Matilda can be played before teams take the field, but not after. This decision prevented England from making a similar request concerning the theme tune to The Archers.

X is for X-Rated: The world and his dog expects the pool match between England and South Africa to disappear in a vast plume of gunsmoke – not unreasonably, given the likely presence of Martin Johnson, Julian White, Bakkies Botha and Corne Krige. But where else can the connoisseur of the all-in dust-up expect to get his fix? Italy-Canada in Canberra on 21 October seems a decent bet, as does South Africa-Samoa in Brisbane on 1 November. (Remember the bedlam when the two met in Johannesburg in 1995?) And don't forget the plucky Georgians. Any game involving those boys could kick off in more ways than one.

Y is for Yamamura: Let's hear it for Ryo Yamamura of Japan, a 21-year-old prop forward with a background in sumo wrestling. He plays for Kanto-Gakuin University and is said to be adept at breaking defensive lines with his 6ft, ton-weight frame. Does he throw salt at his opponents before running at them? Will he lift them over the advertising hoardings? Will he wear one of those out-sized jockstraps? We shall see.

Z is for Zedguinidze: There had to be a Z somewhere, and here he is: step forward Ilia Zedguinidze, captain of Georgia. A graduate in foreign diplomacy, his qualification was of no obvious use when his country beat Russia in Tbilisi to reach the finals for the first time – by all accounts, it was not an occasion for the Kofi Annans of this world. The opening game with England may be fairly lively, too, for the Georgians view it as their final. All together now: "Give us a Z ..."

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