The big man has been eerily quiet all week. He is in a hard and lonely place, that empty space where mighty sportsmen find themselves as their power and mystique fades. The most intimidating icons often die a slow death in sport, but the end, when it comes, can carry a sudden and tragic inevitability.
Though Jonah Lomu's 61st Test match appearance, against England at Twickenham this afternoon, will not be the last occasion he pulls on an All Black shirt, time is closing in fast on his near mythic rugby career. The absence of any specialist replacements on the wing in this raw New Zealand squad virtually guarantees he will also play against France and Wales in the coming weeks, but his future beyond this tour, even as a substitute operating under the grander term of "an impact player", is less certain.
John Mitchell, the All Blacks' steely coach, highlighted Lomu's vulnerability with piercing clarity. He stressed that the world's most famous rugby player was the only member of the inexperienced squad who was not given his place on merit. "He is hanging in there on past form," Mitchell said in that gunslinger's voice he saves for his starkest threats. "This is a real critical time for Jonah. He fully understands that, and the consequences of failure."
This week, Lomu has seemed like a great old fighter preparing stoically for one last big night in the ring. In choosing to withdraw from all contact with the media and, instead, bear down silently on the familiar but increasingly fraught moment when he enters another testing arena, he has shown a measure of battle-hardened savvy. Despite a dearth of rival wings, even among those recovering from injury in New Zealand, he needs to prove that the competitive fire still burns inside him and, more crucially, that he can translate such desire into a telling contribution against younger, faster and fitter opponents who no longer quake at the mention of his name.
The poignance of his struggle is sharpened by the fact that he again faces the blistering tyro who humiliated him on his last visit to Twickenham. England's selection of the 20-year-old James Simpson-Daniel for his Test debut has rekindled humbling memories for Lomu. While playing for the Barbarians this year he was left floundering by the Gloucester whizz kid. Even at 27, but after seven years at the apex of world rugby, he looked old and slow as Simpson-Daniel swept past him for a dazzling solo try.
If that image finally eased the nightmarish psychological hold Lomu exerted on northern hemisphere rugby - since his demolition of Ireland, Scotland and, in particular, England during the 1995 World Cup - his reputation in the south has been in decline for years rather than months. To players and spectators exposed to him regularly in Super 12 and Tri-Nations contests, he has never recaptured the terrifying strength that launched his explosion into the sporting stratosphere in 1995 - and moved a hapless Will Carling to describe him as an unstoppable "freak". Struck down soon afterwards by a terrible illness called nephrotic syndrome, his health deteriorated to the point where it seemed he might never play again.
It is testament to his courage that Lomu returned to the All Blacks. But he appeared much more human and a lot less frightening - except in England, where his iconic status raged on. Before the 1999 World Cup he was regarded by the Wallabies, Springboks and the Kiwis themselves as an erratic member of a strong All Black squad. Here, however, he remained a fearsome rugby god. And, as if by public demand, he again brought down England with a brute of a try during a crucial group match at Twickenham. The English World Cup dream never recovered - and the Lomu myth in this country was reinforced.
The old ripples could be felt this week when Lomu quietly dominated an All Black publicity exercise at a packed rugby ground in Richmond. The squeals of delight that greeted his muted appearance at a carefully staged training session, and the endless lines of small boys and girls queuing for his autograph, suggested that he remains the most revered rugby player on the planet. It was, however, more instructive to flick through the official magazine handed out to the impressionable masses by diligent representatives of the allblacks.com brand.
The marketing men have already identified Lomu's replacement as their chosen Face Of The Brand. Their magazine cover, and accompanying six-page feature, is devoted to another wing - the genial Doug Howlett, whose "pretty boy" credentials are examined in detail and contrasted with his rigorous match statistics of 14 tries in 21 Tests.
Howlett cheerfully downplays his own elevation. "Aw mate," he laughs, "stop kidding. Jonah's scored 35 tries in the black shirt. I'm only starting out compared to him and Christian [Cullen - the scorer of 46 tries in 57 matches]. It's just great to be mentioned in the same breath as them."
Yet, with Lomu waning and Cullen failing even to make the bench, the salesmen have made their decision. They're backing the 24-year-old Howlett to emerge as their next World Cup merchandising star. "I can't think about that," he protests, "not when we've still got a legend like Jonah in the team."
Howlett is more thoughtful in assessing the extreme pres sure Lomu endures. "I really feel for Jonah," he says with a slow shake of his dark curls. "There's always expectation when you pull on the black jersey, but Jonah shoulders an enormous load because of everything he's achieved in the past. He still does his job and he does it pretty well, but if he doesn't perform to his old standards it's blown up out of proportion. It's incredibly tough for him, and we're all hoping he shows a few people at Twickenham."
Howlett was "just a 16-year-old kid thrilled to be playing first-team school rugby" when Lomu tore through the 1995 World Cup. "Those games, and Jonah's performances, are locked in my mind," he says. "Jonah blew me away. But he couldn't maintain that intensity forever. No one could."
In a strangely desolate way, Lomu resembles the Mike Tyson of rugby in that, to those who don't follow or understand rugby or boxing, both men are somehow still regarded as the definitive exponents of their brutal and big-hitting sports. Of course Lomu is as decent and ordinary as Tyson is amoral and deranged. He is also nowhere near as lost on the rugby field as Tyson is bereft between the ropes. Yet, after a miserable Super 12 season, Lomu is in danger of having his once impregnable aura shattered as completely as Tyson's was by Lennox Lewis.
Zinzan Brooke, another legendary All Black, tried to bolster his former team-mate. "I still feel Jonah can rise to the occasion and perform on the day," he said. "I hope he really turns it on at Twickenham, not just for himself and the team but for the spectators as well. There is no one better than Lomu in full flight."
In the same magazine that celebrates the handsome rise of Howlett, the allblacks.com image-makers have spliced together a grainy montage of old and new heroes so that past and present New Zealand captains run out alongside each other.
Above the shadowy tunnel from which they appear, crossing decades and generations, a slogan informs the current squad that "The Legacy You Face Is More Intimidating Than Any Opposition".
That pithy advertising quote sets up the highly marketable idea that the All Blacks "brand", like the shirt, is steeped in a gloriously imposing tradition. Jonah Lomu, for most of the past seven years, has added much to both that serious legacy and glamorous image.
Today, as his sombre silence confirms, he knows that his most intimidating opponent will not be a double-barrelled English debutant in a white shirt, but the heavy toll of seven years and the massive ghost of his own past.
