Will Jonny rise again?

It could well be that, in a few days, Jonny Wilkinson will re-announce his status as a national hero and that his coach, Clive Woodward, will once again be the man with the golden winning arm. That is always the hazard when you go against natural heroism and nerve, in Wilko's case, and a quirky flair for attacking the jugular, in Woodward's.

However, you do have to say there is no question here that the flight to Christchurch for Saturday's opening Test has been made infinitely more arduous by Woodward's decision to eject Gavin Henson in favour of Wilkinson.

Henson is arguably the most thrilling new prospect in the entire rugby universe. Once he was voted the best young player in the world; now, with physical maturity, there is the promise that he might just be the most exciting. Certainly Jeremy Guscott, one of the more luminous aspects of English rugby over the years, has announced himself the leading member of his fan club. Guscott has an affecting phrase for the potential of Henson and Lions captain Brian O'Driscoll working together: mouth-watering.

Now that's just too bad because the Lions have been put on bread and water. Henson is out of it because Wilkinson has to be accommodated in the centre. It poses a huge question mark against the current status of the man who won England the World Cup in Sydney 18 months ago: has the national hero become the sacred cow? The accumulating evidence that this is so can only bring another edge of rage at Henson's exclusion in his homeland.

Welsh pride apart, though, there is cause for wider concern. The Lions concept has always been vulnerable to the threat of partisan selection but in the past this hasn't prevented a catalogue of heroes drawn from across the islands: when the Lions last dazzled New Zealand 34 years ago, the Dragon of Wales was the inevitable motif when Gareth Edwards and Barry John worked so brilliantly to inflict the national genius.

Stirrings of excitement over a significant revival gathered still more strength at the weekend with the mesmerising performance of Ryan Jones, whose original omission was freshly exposed as an offence against natural justice.

Woodward talked about the Welsh contribution to the current tour; said they had injected a bold sense of what might be possible. Words and action have rarely been so far apart. In his move to pack off the young hero to the boonies, Woodward condemned himself as the author of weasel words. The selection now, de facto, of Wilkinson ignites an old debate. It was the one that flared in Brisbane on the run-in to the World Cup in 2003.

Wilkinson's creative impact was deeply questioned when he played so dismally against the Welsh in the quarter-final in which England were only rescued by Woodward's vigorous biting of the bullet. He sent in Mike Catt to run the game, with Wilkinson dropping back into the centre.

Later, a crestfallen Welsh legend, Gerald Davies, said: "That changed the match - that was probably Woodward's best ever decision."

All, we have long been asked to believe, was redeemed by Wilko's rhino-tackling and nerveless drop kick in the final. But was it? By what right does Wilkinson claim his place, out of position, in the match that could so easily decide the fate of this whole tour? Is it because of the sharpness of his form? Palpably not. He was rusty and indecisive in his last outing against Wellington. Is it because he has clearly emerged 100 per cent from a season bedevilled by injury? Hardly.

No, it is more likely because Wilkinson has assumed giant proportions in Woodward's mind. Presently he is more a talisman, a mythic name, than a performer - and from here it is the shortest of journeys to the stall of a sacred cow.

One strength can never to be taken away from Woodward. It is his supremely obdurate self-confidence. Who else would leave the game he knows, and has lived in all his life, and move to another one at the drop of the contract from his old friend and Southampton chairman Rupert Lowe? Woodward won the World Cup of rugby with an ageing team in his own way, and that will always stand against his name.

Now, though, the challenge in New Zealand is profoundly different. It is about melding new forces, new inspiration and new talent. In the absence of a stunning but so-far well concealed masterplan, we can only assume Woodward is feeding from an old bowl: he looks for nourishment in English forward power and the boot of Wilkinson.

It has worked for him before but the guarantee looks a little frayed now. That Henson should pay the price is as ironic as it is enraging. Henson sent over the howitzer kick that plunged English rugby into reappraisal at the Millennium Stadium earlier this year. It is a little bit as though the kid who noted the king was without his clothes has been sent from the room.

Where all this leaves Jonny Wilkinson we will know soon enough. For the moment, though, it is hard not to see him as the beneficiary of a coach's preferment beyond the normal terms of selection. That he will perform with every inch of application at his disposal is not in question - no more than the respect he is due for his competitive instinct and professional demeanour in all circumstances.

It is not his fault that he is plainly no more than a shadow of his old force. Nor is it Gavin Henson's. This makes him a victim at a time that should be the most challenging, and thrilling, of his competitive life. Another one is the classic rule that no-man should be bigger than the team.

- IRISH INDEPENDENT