It was born under a bad sign - thanks to the despicable, hole-in--corner way the Twickenham hierarchy ended Brian Ashton's tenure as head coach of the England rugby team - and it ended in a black hole of the governing body's own making.
Martin Johnson, betrayed by some of his best-known players and befuddled by the demands of running a major international sporting concern without a scintilla of relevant experience, knew there was only one sensible decision, and he made it yesterday. If only his decision-making had always been so clear-minded, so decisive, so right.
For a little over three and a half years, the finest red-rose player of the postwar era - a man who led two Lions tours, captained his country to a world title, emerged from his many tussles with the All Blacks honours even and won every available domestic club trophy - attempted to deliver what his supporters on the Rugby Football Union, notably the long-serving chairman Martyn Thomas, blithely assumed was in his gift: concrete success based on something less tangible, namely the aura that had underpinned his perfectly reasonable claim to be judged among the greatest of modern lock forwards.
What Johnson did on the pitch, he could replicate in the dressing room. So went the theory.
The theory was wrong. More than that, it was infantile, with no grounding in logic or history. Johnson had never coached anyone, managed anyone, organised a training schedule or picked a side, yet Thomas, recently stripped of every last one of his many Twickenham roles, was among those who convinced themselves that none of this mattered.