David Leggat: Paying the penalty at altitude

On tour in South Africa in 1976, the All Blacks played Orange Free State at Bloemfontein.

It is about three hours' drive from Pretoria and sits at an altitude of 1555m.

That day, a first five-eighth called De Wet Ras lined up a penalty attempt from his own 22m line. Showoff. The shot missed, but you get the point. He fancied it was do-able.

One of the first lessons absorbed by teams visiting higher-up Pretoria or Johannesburg, or Bloemfontein, is you concede penalties from at least 50m out at your peril. Down the years names such as Ian McCallum (1970), Gerald Bosch (1976) and Naas Botha (Cavaliers tour of 1986) have given All Blacks nightmares.

This time, unlike some of the previous trips - take 1976, when the test match goalkickers were Sid Going and Bryan Williams, great footballers, less-than-great placekickers - the All Blacks have a cool-eyed assassin who can give as good as his team get.

It seems a given that the team to run onto Loftus Versfeld early tomorrow was chosen some time ago, and would have been picked irrespective of the result against the Wallabies last week.

The backline is loaded with pace and a hard, dry ground should have the likes of Rico Gear, Sitiveni Sivivatu and Leon MacDonald licking their lips.

The pack offers two interesting thoughts: how will Chris Masoe handle No 8? Can he do enough to persuade the All Black selectors that they have the two men for the job next year?

And then there's Greg Rawlinson who, despite his hopes not to get too much of a sandbagging from his old compatriots, will cop plenty. But he should be able to help decipher the lineout calls.

Are the Springboks without a prayer? Certainly not. They'll rumble about up front but at the back they possess the pizzazz of elevator music. Still, for all that, wins in the republic remain rare. So savour it tomorrow.

* Remember Jack Nicholson's leering, sweaty face squashed up against the door in The Shining? "Heeeere's Johnny!" he called to his terrified wife. Marvellous stuff.

That line, probably with a drum roll or two thrown in, has been running around English rugby this week as Jonny Wilkinson returns to action, with next year's World Cup squarely in his sights.

Wilkinson won the World Cup final with his extra-time drop kick in Sydney in November 2003. He has not played an international since, beset by a collection of injuries which would have had a man of lesser mental strength throwing his boots in the rubbish and heading for the bowling green.

Wilkinson came to New Zealand with the Lions last year, was foolishly picked in the first two tests and never had a chance under Sir Clive Woodward's bizarre stewardship.

At 27, Wilkinson estimates he has five years left, wants another crack at the Lions and to be part of England's World Cup campaign next September.

As for his importance to England, allowing for their different styles, an argument can be mounted he was at least as critical to his country's rugby success as Daniel Carter is to his, if not more so. Put it this way: how would the All Blacks be travelling if Carter had been sidelined for the last two years and next year as well?