White Gold

by Peter Burns

  In a simple analysis, this was always going to happen. The team had been built to win the 2003 World Cup and the target had always been for that team to peak at the tournament. Woodward, Dave Reddin and all the other coaches achieved exactly what they set out to do – and Woodward now had four years to do it again. There should have been no surprise that, with the team breaking up after the tournament, a lean period would follow before the rolling success started up again. But sport is fickle and the bigger picture is often easily lost.

  The World Cup was won because England had a squad of pure quality, that had grown together over a number of years – years that had been filled with morale-boosting victories and ambition-galvanizing losses. The players had played together over dozens of Test matches, they had learnt how to cope with pressure and they had learnt how to win, no matter who or what they faced. That had been facilitated by meticulous attention to detail, by sparing no expense, and by going to every length possible to give the players an edge over their competitors. So Woodward knew that if England were to achieve a feat never managed before and successfully defend the World Cup, then they would need to do that all over again – but with an even greater attention to detail, with even more effort and with increased financial investment. Woodward needed more money, more time with the players, more support. If he could have that then he knew that he could create a dynasty.

  But from the moment the team returned to the UK, it was clear that no one else in the RFU hierarchy was focusing on the future like Woodward and his coaching team were. After the 1999 World Cup exit, Woodward had been hauled before the RFU to review what had gone wrong and how he planned to improve things. After their 2003 triumph, it seemed that to many in the RFU the journey was complete. When you reach the top, where else is there to go? For Woodward, it was to return to base camp and then look to scale the heights again – only this time faster, better, stronger. There was no formal tournament review, but Woodward did his own. He had been given a new four-year contract in the summer of 2003 that would take him through to the World Cup in France in 2007; so he laid out a four-year plan, detailed in the extreme. ‘I came back from the World Cup and within days I was back in the office getting ready to plan for the next cycle,’ said Woodward. ‘I wanted to put in place a blueprint for where we needed to go from here.

  ‘I presented all of my ideas to the board but they just didn’t understand the necessity or the urgency with which they needed to be made. The problem was that the board members, outside of Baron, had no idea how we had won the World Cup. They thought this success would just continue.

  ‘There was a belief that we had won simply because we had great players, and yes, that was the number one reason. But it also took a lot more than that – after all, all of our competitors had great players as well. It was a very frustrating time and I couldn’t help but feel that even though we had got it right for so long and everyone had been brilliant, Baron was brilliant, and the team were given everything we needed leading up to the World Cup, we still only won the World Cup by a drop-goal in the last seconds of extra time. We now needed to do more and as England it is even tougher because everyone wants to knock your block off. Although England winning the World Cup proved very popular in England, I knew it would prompt a huge response from our rivals and that every other rugby playing nation would be figuring out how to take their teams to the next level to beat us.’

  In the summer of 2004, Woodward appeared on Radio 5 Live’s Sportsweek programme. The presenter, Garry Richardson, asked him whether he would receive the same support from the RFU for the defence of the World Cup in 2007 as he had in the build-up to 2003. ‘I’m convinced that myself and a few people know exactly why we won it,’ said Woodward. ‘The only thing I’m a little cranky about is that there are one or two people in influential positions to make things happen for the England team who possibly, and rightly so, don’t understand why the team won. We’ve got to increase the number of training days, increase the investment, but it’s my job to make sure people understand that.

  ‘Sometimes you have conversations with people and you walk away shaking your head, as they seem to think we won the World Cup because we had a few good players. Well, we’ve got more than a few, we’ve got world-class players, but they’ll be the first to admit you don’t win World Cups because you’ve got good players, you win them because you prepare properly.

  ‘I’m making it quite clear that England won because of the investment, and that’s fantastic. Everyone invested hugely in me and the team and that’s why we won, but we can’t just expect that to happen every four years. It has to happen every year, and I’m determined to keep driving that investment through. I’m here to represent the players, and people like Johnson and Dallaglio have created huge role models, and we want people to step into those shoes and win. To do that, though, we have to understand why we won.’

  The RFU’s lack of vision infuriated him and he often felt like he was banging his head against a brick wall. For all his achievements, they still weren’t listening to what he had to say. ‘After the Rugby World Cup win in 2003,’ he wrote in The Sunday Times in 2012, ‘the England management devised plans for what we called a Pressure Dome. I had favourable funding discussions with Tessa Jowell, then secretary of state for media and culture. It was to be a dedicated performance centre for England rugby (all teams) where we could coach players to play under pressure, where we could scientifically monitor individual development programmes and develop coaches and referees – a true centre of excellence, in other words. Those in authority at Twickenham, however, decided to build a hotel instead.’

  In an effort to begin building for a new era, he announced in January 2004 that any player not available for the summer tour to New Zealand wouldn’t be selected for the Six Nations. This decision pushed several senior players to call time on their Test careers earlier than they perhaps might have done. While this certainly signalled a new dawn for the team it also robbed them of one of its most precious commodities – and one that Woodward had been carefully developing for years: experience. It is easy for a new player to come into a team of seasoned campaigners, easy to step into a team of winners when all you have to do is play your natural game. It is so much harder to come into a team and be surrounded by players who are as wide-eyed as you are. When the cauldron of international rugby really begins to boil, when backs are to the wall and the pressure is like a lead weight on your shoulders, where do you look for leadership and guidance through the maelstrom? With that experienced core stripped out and the senior players who were there struggling for form, that was exactly the problem faced by the England players during the seasons directly following the World Cup.

  But there were other factors too.

  England played a New Zealand Barbarians side at Twickenham at the end of 2003. For the RFU, it was to be a showcase celebration match; for Woodward it was a chance to show the world that nothing stood still in sport, that he was intent on continuing the journey; but for the clubs it was yet another intrusion into their already disrupted season. They had lost their stars for the entire summer and the first quarter of the season. Now that they were back, and victorious, their most valuable commodities were even more valuable. They didn’t want their England stars swanning off to play in a meaningless exhibition match when they had serious league games to play and their presence could guarantee a bumper crowd.

  In the face of yet another club versus country row, an agreement was reached whereby Woodward could select only three players from each club – and, even then, he would often find that his first-choice picks from those clubs were unavailable. ‘I think it’s a wonderful fixture,’ he said of the Barbarians game, ‘provided I can play it with a full-strength side. It’s hard to get excited about a game with a decimated squad.’

  ‘The break-up of the England team post RWC 2003, due to retirements, injuries, player fatigue and loss of form, would have been all more manageable if we actually had more control over the players
and worked in the same way as the southern hemisphere teams are run,’ he would later say. ‘England will win if we are allowed to prepare properly and compete on a level playing field, but currently we are not and never have been since the game went professional. That is what makes winning the World Cup even more remarkable.’

  His disillusionment was palpable, yet his focus remained intact. His thirst for success had been barely quenched by the World Cup success and he refused to rest on his laurels. Going into 2004, his new mantra was to go ‘Beyond No.1’. He had already made history, he had already reshaped the rugby landscape, but he wanted to make it permanent.

  With Johnson’s retirement, Woodward made Dallaglio captain once again for the Six Nations and the No.8 led England to an impressive 50–9 win over Italy in Rome and a 35–13 win over Scotland in Edinburgh. But Woodward’s time with the players had been stripped right back to the minimum demanded by the IRB rules for international windows, and the sponsors and other corporate interests were muscling their way into the players’ time, even in Test weeks. In the build-up to England’s third game, against Ireland at Twickenham, the team managed only a paltry two training sessions. And the outside interference finally took its toll as England not only lost 19–13 to an inspired Irish side, but surrendered their unbeaten run at home, which had stood at an incredible twenty-two consecutive wins.

  They recovered to beat Wales 31–21 at Twickenham but then travelled to Paris, where they lost 24–21, handing France the Grand Slam and relinquishing their position as the No.1-ranked team in the world. Beyond No.1 this was not.

  The summer tour to New Zealand and Australia sunk this new England side still further. Owing to injury, retirements and fatigue, Woodward was able to take only twelve players who had been in his World Cup squad. They were humiliated 36–3 and 36–12 by the All Blacks and 51–15 by the Wallabies. It was the Tour of Hell all over again.

  When they returned home Woodward was greeted with the news that the RFU and the clubs had come to a new arrangement for player release throughout the season. An injury to an Elite Player Squad member would allow for his replacement in the programme, but form would not. So if a player was selected for the EPS at the start of the season, but went on to have a stinker for his club, there was no removing him while he remained fit and healthy. It was deeply restrictive – but the worst part was the access England would have to those EPS players. While accounting for the fact that the 2002–2003 season featured a World Cup, Woodward had still had his players for twelve weeks. Under the new EPS deal, he would have them for sixteen days.

  ‘I realised when I came back that the clubs felt they had done their stuff and that now it was their turn,’ said Woodward. ‘I realised, when I put in a World Cup report with some serious recommendations that were completely ignored, that people were listening to me less than they had before the tournament. I found that very strange and disturbing... I understand that the players are the property of the clubs, but if we had them under our control, then think what we could do. We could manage them properly as a squad. We could manage their fitness and we could manage things like their welfare, their retirements, even their testimonials. But we have no control over our elite athletes.’

  *

  By the late summer of 2004, Woodward was world-weary. The mid-table position that England had achieved in the Six Nations, the brutal summer tour and the ongoing battle with the clubs and the RFU were taking their toll. There was too much opposition, too much infighting, too many individuals and organisations sucking the life out of English rugby. The World Cup honeymoon was well and truly over.

  On 2 September 2004, he announced his resignation as England’s head coach and was succeeded by Andy Robinson. It was the end of an era. ‘It wasn’t a snap decision, it was something I had considered for some time and probably settled on whilst on tour in New Zealand and Australia. I did not believe the England Team was being made the priority which I found very hard to understand because it drives the rest of the game in England.

  ‘It all revolved around the feeling that we couldn’t continue in the same way and I didn’t feel I had the support of the board for my new ideas – which I didn’t. And I couldn’t continue in that environment. I regret the way I left – the press conference was not my finest hour. It was a sad day because being the England head coach is the best job in the world, and I had been able to work with truly remarkable individuals and together achieve something very special. But I just felt my position had become untenable.’

  In the days that followed his resignation he publicly vented his frustrations with the RFU and the battle that he had fought throughout his seven-year reign at the head of England rugby. ‘Control of the players is everything and you can’t control them through directors of rugby,’ he said. ‘It’s like trying to run a business without a workforce. You cannot take any shortcuts... These are young men who are not at their best, and to be an elite performer you have to control the athlete all the time. The England head coach has to have more control of his players. We sat around the negotiating table with people who, with respect, have no idea about elite performance. When your job and career is involved in winning, you look at what is going on and you can’t accept it. I haven’t accepted it and it has come to this. You end up with a compromise agreement and you don’t win World Cups by compromising. If you want to win the World Cup, and get behind this England team, you have to have something very special. You can’t take shortcuts or compromises if you are trying to be the best in the world and win by an inch...

  ‘It was fantastic to win the World Cup but it was clear to me from the moment that plane landed [back in the UK] I felt totally out of control. My mindset was we had a clear plan of how we were being successful, and that has been watered down. I went into the same meetings with the same faces and heard the same things. I wanted more and we have ended up with less... We won the World Cup by inches. You cannot compromise. We won the World Cup because we had an outstanding set of players. We prepared properly. But agreements have taken place between the RFU and clubs that on paper look great. They’re not in reality.’

  *

  In February 2004, Woodward had been selected to lead the 2005 Lions tour to New Zealand. He was the candidate that had stood head and shoulders above all others and his resignation from the RFU seemed to suggest that he had done the Lions a favour as he could now concentrate 100 per cent on the challenge of touring New Zealand. And this is where we encounter one of the great elements that makes sport so special, so intriguing, so wonderfully varied. For even within a game like rugby union, which is highly structured and where the elite players are often of a similar standard and mindset and, in the home nations in particular, capable of playing in a certain uniform style, Woodward looked at previous Lions tours (including his own experiences) and was convinced that the blueprint he had drawn up for England would work for the Lions. But in sport no blueprint is ever directly transferable. There are too many nuances, too many exceptional circumstances with regards to the physical and mental states of the players, too many individual character traits that must be considered before any kind of structure is put in place. The management of a Lions tour, by the very nature of its variety, the paucity of preparation time and the fickleness of any player’s form, has to be fluid in its approach. General styles and tactics can be laid out but they cannot be draconian. The Lions is a melting pot of four rugby nations and the way that one country approaches things cannot be foisted on the three others – not if the tour is to be a success. And so it proved in 2005. Woodward tried to make the Lions an extension of England in the way he approached the squad size, match preparation, accommodation, leisure time and team selection. And it was a disaster. As one leading English player said in the aftermath of the tour, you cannot take a system and a culture and an environment that had been developed over a number of years with England and cram it into seven weeks with the Lions. It just doesn’t work. ‘I’m big on building teams and I got it wrong with the Lio
ns,’ said Woodward. ‘I said, “This is what I did with England and I know it works” – but you can’t apply that to a scratch team in six weeks. It is a tough, tough place to tour and the injuries just wrecked us. People talk about the size of the squad being an issue, having central bases being an issue, the splitting of the team being an issue, having Alistair Campbell there being an issue, but in all honesty, it’s bullshit. If you prepare properly – and we did, we had absolutely the best coaches and medical team that were available – then it comes down to fifteen versus fifteen on the pitch and they were just better than us. We got thumped.’

  On the face of it, a Lions tour is a near impossible challenge for a coach. Gather the best available players from four countries who go for each other’s throats on an annual basis in the Six Nations, occasionally in World Cups and regularly throughout each season for their clubs, patch them together as best you can at the end of an arduous season, spend ten days (at most) in a training camp introducing them to one another, trying to dissolve the ingrained national barriers and hostilities, give them a brand new playing style, defensive system and set-piece codes, then fly them to the furthest reaches of the earth for a brutal six-week tour that culminates in a three-Test series against one of the best sides in the world, who have had months and sometimes years of preparation for your visit. It is for all these reasons and myriad more that since the Second World War there have been only five victorious British & Irish Lions tour parties in eighteen attempts – 1971, 1974, 1989, 1997 and 2013.

  While it must be remembered that the Lions faced an All Blacks side considered by many to be one of the greatest of all time, and that their challenge was severely hampered by savage injury, there is no escaping the awful humiliation that they suffered in the Test series, losing 3–0 with barely a shot fired in anger. ‘Leading the Lions is an incredible honour but in no way an easy job,’ wrote Woodward in 2013. ‘I have listened to many people’s opinion about the Lions tour I led in 2005, especially concerning my selection. It is always a controversial subject. All I can say is that I did everything I believed was right and in the interests of the team. You can analyse it however you wish. We were up against one of the finest All Blacks sides I’ve ever seen and we lost to a superior team after we were depleted by injuries to some key players, including Brian O’Driscoll and Lawrence Dallaglio.’