Smiling and joking before the slaughter, Clive Woodward sauntered through a packed conference centre at Twickenham yesterday morning. He closed in on a table covered in a pristine white cloth with the amused look of a man who had already decided everything beyond which biscuit he might choose to accompany his first coffee on his last day of work. Woodward considered his options carefully before, steeling himself for his next elite performance, he passed on the digestives and the shortbread. Slipping one hand into a pocket and using the other to carry his cup, he ambled back into the throng of munching journalists.
The usual way for a professional coach to tender his resignation, while launching an emotional attack on his erstwhile employers, is to prepare himself by remaining predictably tight-lipped and ashen-faced in some unseen office away from the hacks. Woodward, naturally, is different. He stopped to say hello or to give someone a wink while strolling from one small group of reporters to another. The outgoing England rugby coach gravitated easily to men who had shadowed him for the best, and worst, part of seven years. It was not a move inspired by Woodward's instinctive bonhomie. A starker intent was unfolding. Woodward had turned his back on his confused old masters. In the last five minutes before his gloves were removed he had decided to while away the time with the gang of messengers who would ensure that his extraordinary assault on the RFU would be heard and read by as many people as possible.
Francis Baron and Graeme Cattermole, the RFU's chief executive and chairman, looked distinctly queasy when Woodward finally sat alongside them in an adjoining room. They knew they were about to be skewered and shafted.
"The two or three years leading up to the World Cup were fantastic," Woodward began in his deceptively affable way. "We arrived at the World Cup as the best prepared team and we should be really proud of that. But since coming back from Australia I've been so disappointed. It was fantastic to win but literally from the moment the plane landed, after being in total control for the last couple of years, I just felt totally out of control."
Baron and Cattermole stared blankly into the TV lights. They were being blamed for just about everything. "When you lose [Martin] Johnson, [Lawrence] Dallaglio and [Neil] Back you just have to shake your head," Woodward said. "When Dallaglio retired there were a lot of quotes from the RFU about what a great player he is. And they're right. He's a superstar but I didn't hear anyone saying 'Why? Why the hell has Lawrence Dallaglio retired when he's still playing for his club for two years?' That's when I start getting annoyed. The structure's wrong but I've been making this point for seven years. If it had been changed maybe Martin Johnson would still be playing for England. I find it very sad that that team has broken up so quickly. It all caught up with them. They had to stop for the sake of their families and their bodies. You have to make these statements and hope that people in the game listen to them."
Baron and Cattermole looked ready to cover their ears and start screaming as Woodward blazed on. "We beat the southern hemisphere teams, home and away, 12 times in a row. That's just awesome in terms of the history of English rugby. It was all going fantastically well. So why have we gone backwards? After all I've been through over the last seven years I just could not put up with that - sitting around the negotiating table with people who, with respect, have little or no idea about elite performance."
Baron straightened his tie in some sort of diversionary performance while Cattermole blinked quickly and, presumably, in an elite kind of way. Woodward had eyes only for us. "How can you prepare for a World Cup and be given 20 days and then come back as winners and be told that it is now 16? My mind-set is that it should be 22 or 24. I'm just amazed and saddened that people, whom I'm not going to name, in the clubs and the RFU, have taken us down this road."
A few minutes later Woodward started naming some names - zeroing on his New Zealand and Australian coaching rivals, Warren Gatland and John Connolly, at Wasps and Bath. Cattermole finally responded with the effectiveness of the savaged sheep he had resembled all morning. "If you try and change things overnight," he said, "you're going to have major problems."
He struggled through his seemingly problem-free morning. "I gave Clive access to a management board meeting next week to present his vision - to talk directly as head coach to the board."
Woodward's response was withering. "Could I just thank the chairman for giving me access to the management board ..."
Reminded of Woodward's repeated accusation that the RFU is "toothless" and "apathetic", Cattermole pressed on blindly. "Gentlemen, and ladies, that it is not the case."
Paul Ackford, the former England lock forward turned rugby journalist, decided to even up the one-sided hammering. "Do you think Clive has behaved like a spoilt brat?" he asked.
"No," the old chairman gulped gratefully. "I don't think that. Clive has some very strong views. We all know that. He's always spoken, er, openly and, um, robustly. Clive has spoken a lot of truths; I'll accept that. The challenge for the RFU is to try and implement as much of Clive's vision as possible. But these things take time. They will probably only be achieved after I have left."
The laughter echoed cruelly. Woodward smiled a little more. He was ready to talk about anything. "I've been fascinated watching the Olympics. When you're watching the rowers and sprinters and Kelly Holmes they win by inches. You cannot compromise on elite performance. And we didn't win the World Cup by a mile. We won it by an inch. We won in the 20th minute of extra-time and we did it by preparing properly. If this country is serious about its rugby team, then you cannot compromise. I might be in a minority of one but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."
But might it mean that he was swapping rugby for football? Was he on his way to Southampton and perhaps eventually the England football team?
"I've applied to do a Grade 2 coaching award with the FA," Woodward said dryly. "I did not apply for the England coaching job. I'm not stupid. Football is like any other sport. You only get put into positions if you've got the full respect of the players you're going to coach. And in football terms I'm a million miles off that. I've got to start right at the bottom, which I intend to do. I'll do everything properly and I'll not be taking a paid position in football until after the Lions tour."
Woodward was obviously too canny to reveal the full extent of his sweeping ambition. And yet, for all the effectiveness of his display, a significant doubt must remain about even his ability to make such an intriguing switch, from international rugby to professional football. Gaining the trust and belief of insular and cynical young footballers, who inhabit such a contrasting world from the men Woodward usually coaches, will be a far more exacting task than stripping bare the incompetence of the RFU. After his World Cup rugby triumph, a glorious failure in football still seems more likely.
That did not deter a cheery young woman from Meridian TV, who introduced herself "on behalf of Saints fans".
"Can you explain the offside rule?" she asked. "I've not done my Grade 2 coaching yet . . ."
"But would you like to end up at Southampton?" the voice of the Saints persisted.
"I may end up coaching Maidenhead Under-9s," Woodward quipped as Baron snorted. "I could end up anywhere. I've been to American Football teams many times but I've never had these kind of headlines. I'm not intending to be an NFL coach - at the moment."
And then, after an hour in which he had utterly shredded the RFU, he was gone. "I'm going to miss you, you know," Woodward said to more laughter, as he set off on his next adventure.
He looked as if he knew exactly where he was heading - and it was not towards either the Denver Broncos or Maidenhead Under-9s. Woodward is set for the Lions tour of New Zealand next summer and then the jungle of football.
He may yet fail with both wild dreams - but it is going to be some adventure. And in the end, whatever happens to Woodward's grand plans, the traumatised world of English rugby will have become just a little less interesting.
The final straw
1. Sixty players, announced at the start of the season, will have individually agreed training, playing and rest programmes, with the England coaches and Premiership directors of rugby liaising.
2. There will be 16 player-release dates for the next three seasons in addition to the week spent training before every international.
3. No EPS player will play more than 32 matches for club and country in any one year starting from August 1, though dispensation may be granted by the RFU's performance director.
4. Each EPS player will have an off-season of 11 weeks which will take effect from the date of his last game.
5. Squads named 10 days before an international with no more than 30 players named. Up to 37 players will be available for summer tours.
6. Clubs will receive £30,000 each year for every player they provide to the EPS and £10,000 for each identified national academy player on a full-time contract.
