Battling the Lions: Do as I say, not as I did - Woodward

For sure, he's come a long way since that time. But I'll never forget the look of utter lack of interest, complete despair and disillusionment on the face of Clive Woodward as he endured - and I'm sure that's the right word - the final stages of his Lions playing career.

It was late in the week of the 1983 Wellington test, Woodward wasn't in the side and the wheels were rapidly coming off.

The England centre who had toured South Africa with the Lions three years earlier somehow seemed out of sorts for much of the time.

Against West Coast/Buller, a few days after the first-test defeat in Christchurch, Woodward had got quick ball in midfield from one Lions attack.

In his hey-day, he would have seized it and started running, tearing apart defences with that trademark sidestep and mazy running style.

But on this day, the Englishman just flapped at the ball to speed it on to a colleague outside him. Worse still, the attempted flip pass went yards behind the player for whom it was intended. Again, it smacked of lack of interest.

Willie John McBride, who was Lions manager on that tour, said years later that Woodward had never been in the running for the test side and did not seem to want to know about the tough stuff in New Zealand rugby.

McBride was mystified because Woodward had toured South Africa in 1980 and he had expected him to be one of the key men of the 1983 Lions.

Yet it never happened. McBride felt as though Woodward was not interested and played as though he was, too. But why? That was Clive, said the Irishman.

Yet in 1980, Clive Woodward had dazzled as a player at the heart of England's first Grand Slam in the old Five Nations Championship for 23 years. His running at centre was superb and dangerous for any defence.

When England went to Edinburgh to take on the Scots in their final game, with history beckoning, some of Woodward's touches and skills were sublime. It was by no means an accident that one of the England wings, John Carleton, scored a hattrick of tries that day as England won handsomely.

Shortly before Woodward announced the 2005 squad, one of his fellow coaches telephoned an old friend, somewhat mystified. "What do we do?" he asked, bewilderment in his voice. "Clive still hasn't even said what style he wants us to play, how he sees it going on the field."

His friend gently explained that Woodward was probably waiting to hear his coaches' viewpoint, before making up his own mind.

And, rightly or wrongly, a general perception exists that while Woodward is a superb man-manager and organiser, a man with supreme ability to get every possible assistance and aid from his employers (he persuaded the RFU to cough up approximately $23 million to underpin England's 2003 World Cup campaign), and to create the most propitious circumstances in which the players in his charge may flourish, he has yet to demonstrate conclusively that he possesses genius in terms of pure coaching ability.

Perhaps the 2005 Lions will be his proving ground in that respect. But on the other hand, there is the view that after England's World Cup triumph, Woodward and his reputation are on a hiding to nothing.

With a career in professional soccer looming after this tour (it is said that he has already been offered a post with Southampton), the Englishman would like nothing better than to return to New Zealand 22 years after his own disappointing playing tour with the Lions, and taste success.