So farewell - well, almost - to the extraordinary Dick Rockface. He will be remembered as the most influential player in world rugby in the past decade, no small effort in a post-Lomu era dominated by such towering talents as Martin Johnson, Jonny Wilkinson, Dan Carter, Richie McCaw and Bryan Habana. Retirement could even beckon as early as Sunday night and we should cherish him while we still can. Players of his ilk come along less often than people realise.
Nor is it widely known that Mr Rockface has spent his entire career playing under a pseudonym. On the team-sheet, whether it be in the green and white of Salisbury, the black of Saracens, the white of England or the red of the British and Irish Lions, he invariably preferred to be listed as plain Richard Hill. It is far easier to operate incognito in the back-row if you avoid flaxen hair or a flash christian name such as Rocky, Remi or Schalk. The young Rockface cleverly recognised this as a teenager and changed his name by deed poll. No point drawing attention to yourself and forewarning the opposition more than strictly necessary ...
OK, so the deed poll bit is slightly untrue. But, as I remember writing years ago, it is all too easy to imagine Hill's agent sitting in a swivel chair in a smart London office, drumming his fingers against the desk and muttering distractedly to himself, 'if only we could call him something more exciting the sky will be the limit ... what about Ricky Mountain or maybe Rick Everest? Hang on, I've got it ... Dick Rockface!' A player with the ability to turn Test matches and World Cups under screeching mental and physical stress needs an appropriately jaw-jutting moniker. It happens all the time in showbiz: would Reg Dwight, for example, have sold as many records as Elton John? And what price Murray Brooke and Desmond Dallaglio enjoying the same stellar careers as Zinzan and Lawrence Bruno Nero, respectively?
We will never know, of course. The only certainty is that the undemonstrative Hill will stroll into the sunset at some point in the next month - if Saracens lose to Munster this weekend the final farewell could be brought forward - with the total respect of his peers and about one-millionth of Wilkinson's profile. Those shrugging their shoulders and stifling a yawn should stop for a second and recall three games. The first, famously, was the 2001 Lions tour when Hill has taken out in the second Test by Australia's Nathan Grey, an injury which turned the series. The second was England's nervous 2003 World Cup quarter-final against Wales in which Hill did not play; the moment he returned from injury to the starting line-up against France in the semi-final, England looked a different side. And the third? The Heineken Cup quarter-final between Saracens and the Ospreys this month in which the 34-year-old, barely able to run, was at the heart of an extraordinary Sarries' triumph. In the club's subsequent two games they have conceded 39 and 40 points, respectively. Guess who has been unavailable.
Which is why, as everyone queues up to lionise England's new manager Martin Johnson, it is only right to salute the quiet man who made Johnson's team tick. Hill will go to his grave insisting rugby is a team game and, of course, he is right. But the aforementioned Zinzan Brooke was not alone in 2003 in suggesting Hill was every bit as vital as Johnson and Wilkinson. France's Serge Betsen also reckoned he was a key man - "he comes from the shadows, from the darkness" - while Nick Mallett compared him to the former All Black great Ian Kirkpatrick. Hill simply harrumphed in characteristic Eeyore fashion and complained the media were simply jumping on a convenient bandwagon.
The truth, in the end, is that none of us can change who we are. Hill is a reticent Victor Meldrew-type from a quiet Wiltshire cul-de-sac who just happened to grow up to be one of the great England forwards of any era. He does not seek praise or believe he deserves more recognition than the bloke next to him in the Saracens' dressing-room. But that doesn't mean we can't embarrass him with a torrent of kind words anyway. So thank you, Richard, for proving that world-class sportsmen do not have to be tiresome prima donnas. And please pass on our best wishes to Mr Rockface.
Wise owl McGeechan takes on the ELVs
The International Rugby Board is preparing to mount one last charm offensive to convince the northern hemisphere that the much-trumpeted Experimental Law Variations are fantastic news for rugby union. Much has been said and written but few have been as vehemently opposed as the Wasps' director of rugby Ian McGeechan. "I hate to think we'd end up playing only one type of rugby. Under the current laws you get variety and choices as a team. My biggest concern is that those choices will go out of the window." McGeechan is possibly the wisest owl in coaching, New Zealand's Graham Henry included. If both 'Geech' and Henry think the ELVs are generally a bad idea there is no need for further argument.
Could Johnson spring a captaincy surprise with Cipriani?
Once upon a time the news that Jonny Wilkinson will miss England's summer tour of New Zealand would have sent a shiver down Twickenham's spine. The great man's latest operation, however, could prove a blessing in disguise. Not only does it give Jonny a chance to get a proper summer break but it also gives Danny Cipriani the perfect chance to show how quickly times change. Anyone who witnessed Cipriani's first-half display against Saracens last Sunday knows that Wilkinson's chance of starting at at No10 against the All Blacks were pretty remote and Phil Vickery's knee injury has also opened up an intriguing captaincy vacancy. It may sound premature but, in Wilkinson's absence, presenting the armband to Cipriani is an increasingly realistic option. This is no run-of-the-mill 20-year-old.
