Lions planning every detail

Sir Clive Woodward does not really like the "sir" bit of his name. Contrary to popular belief south of the equator, most notably in Auckland, he is far too affable and inclusive a character to stand on ceremony — but he is learning to live with it.

The title is, after all, a reflection of his efforts in professionalising English rugby to the point where a World Cup victory was not only desirable, but realistic.

If he tops and tails his coaching career by guiding the Lions to victory over the All Blacks, he will probably become the next Archbishop of Canterbury.

Of course, the name Canterbury is among those exercising Woodward's famously inventive sporting brain at this precise moment, and it goes a long way towards explaining the former test centre's approach to this trip, which looks less like a traditional tour than a fullscale sporting invasion with its lavishly populated playing squad and backroom team.

The Lions may not be taking on the Crusaders or the NPC outfit in the course of this particular adventure, but memories of 1971, when the Lions lost both test props in the Battle of Christchurch, have at least in part persuaded the head coach to embrace the no-stone-unturned philosophy.

Woodward has taken a good deal of stick and found himself on the uncomfortable end of dozens of jokes about the size of the party, more than 70 in all, scheduled to board the outward-bound flight for the North Island. To borrow his own familiar phrase, he could not give a monkey's.

"How do you think the All Blacks are approaching this series?" he asked recently, when challenged about the teeming hordes of tourists. "Do you honestly think they're counting the pennies, scrimping and saving and shaving bits here and there to keep their budget in check?

"They want to win this series, badly. So do we. And the way I see it, we're only matching what they're doing to ensure they get the right result."

Put like that, it seems a reasonable argument. Woodward accepts that in terms of coaching alone, the All Blacks have the most high-powered panel of strategists and tacticians in their history.

What is more, the terrible trio at the top end of the silver-ferned operation — Messrs Henry, Hansen and Smith — have recent and intimate knowledge of the workings of the game in the British Isles. In the Englishman's view, that fact alone justifies his modus operandi.

Four years ago, Henry took the Lions to Australia with a clear idea of winning every game, but pretty much dumped the dirt-trackers on the backburner the moment they lost to the Wallabies' second-string in Gosford.

On the face of it, Woodward has washed his hands of half the squad before a ball has been kicked, given the presence of Ian McGeechan, Gareth Jenkins and Mike Ford as designated coaches of the mid-week team.

Many assume that the likes of Denis Hickie, Ronan O'Gara, Gareth Cooper, Shane Byrne, John Hayes, Andy Titterrell and Andrew Sheridan will begin training under McGeechan's regime and stay there for the duration.

Needless to say, the contrary Woodward does not look at it that way. Yes, he says, the three coaches will deal exclusively with the dirties; no, he says, there is no obstacle to prevent those who start in the mid-week side working their way into test contention.

Quite how this will work, given the demands of the 12-match itinerary, is anyone's guess, and it is hard to believe that those who find themselves turning out against Taranaki, Southland and Manawatu will stand a snowball's chance in hell of making the cut for the big games.

Still, Woodward is sticking to his guns. Publicly at least, he insists that he is looking at a blank sheet of A4 in terms of the three-match series with Tana and Co.

However the issue pans out, there is no doubting the level of planning and plotting on Woodward's part. He started piecing together his squad back in September, spending weeks with the Scots, the Welsh and the Irish as they prepared for their autumn internationals.

He even latched on to the French, not simply because the All Blacks were playing in Paris, but because he craved fresh ideas in terms of preparation. He has appointed a tour manager and a team manager; he has two doctors, three physiotherapists, two video analysts, a lawyer and a chef.

He even has Alastair Campbell, the formidable political spin doctor who worked so closely, and for so long, with Tony Blair. What will he be doing? God alone knows, but the press are pretty nervous about it.

All this is costing a fortune — millions of pounds, indeed, only a humble percentage of which will go to the players. A maximum of £27,000 for an unbeaten tour, including a test-series whitewash?

It is not a king's ransom. But Woodward intends to make his players feel like kings all the same, and as he showed in 2003 . . .