England's Jonny Wilkinson: Gerry Thornleyon the pressures, from within as well as without, that weigh on Jonny Wilkinson.
If the truth be told, he's not even kicking well and his general contribution is even more overrated than it was four years ago when sections of the English media deified him as if he had been singularly responsible for their country winning the World Cup. But Jonny is back, centre stage again.
In part it's the age we live in; it's the cult of celebrity.
The 33-year-old Andy Gomarsall, released by Worcester two weeks before his wife gave birth to twins and therefore clubless a year ago, has just as a remarkable story to tell and is far more easygoing and erudite about telling it.
But whereas he chatted away in the corner to a handful of journalists, Wilkinson had sat at the top table for the team announcement alongside captain Phil Vickery and coach Brian Ashton.
After a perfunctory first question to Ashton about his team selection, the next five questions were aimed at Jonny, and Jonny doesn't do soundbites.
As the minutes ticked by, Ashton looked on in bemusement and Vickery smiled slightly and wryly.
The David Beckham of English rugby was in full flow, looking, as ever, uncomfortable and embarrassed - which, by all accounts from those who know him, is exactly how he feels about his celebrity status.
Unlike Beckham, Wilkinson doesn't go looking for it. You rarely see him photographed with his girlfriend on his arm, out and about under the bright lights or in celebrity magazines.
In his defence, he is not in thrall to materialism, wealth or fame. He has stayed loyal to his boyhood club, Newcastle - perhaps as much out of self-protection as undoubted loyalty - when there have probably been greater riches to be had elsewhere. Kids the world over identify with him or are inspired by him, and will no doubt watch tonight's final because Wilkinson is playing.
He did, however, land the match-winning drop-goal four years ago, and as the four he had missed beforehand and even to some degree the true hero of that team, Martin Johnson, were overlooked in the euphoria and increased profile rugby enjoyed, Jonny's blond, boy-next-door image made him the most easily targeted superstar of English professional rugby.
AND THE STORYof his comeback is truly quite remarkable when you consider the catalogue of misfortune that has cursed him in the intervening four years.
In December 2003, barely a month after Sydney, Wilkinson fractured a shoulder facet - aka a "stinger" - and was sidelined for two weeks. Returning for the game against Northampton on December 28th, he suffered a recurrence of the injury, and the following February he was ruled out of the Six Nations after a shoulder operation and missed the rest of the season.
Appointed England captain at the start of the season, in October 2004 he was sidelined for six weeks with a haematoma in the upper right arm and had to stand down as captain for the autumn Tests. In January 2005 he suffered knee-ligament damage in Newcastle's Heineken European Cup defeat in Perpignan, and in March he sustained medial-ligament damage on his Newcastle comeback against Harlequins.
He returned in time for the Lions tour to New Zealand, but the shoulder went again in the second Test, ruling him out of the third Test.
He missed the start of the 2005-2006 season after appendix surgery, that November underwent a major operation for related groin problems and in January 2006 tore an adductor muscle, which ruled him out of the rest of that season.
So on to 2006-2007, and Wilkinson's misfortune returned in the first month of the campaign when he was forced off the pitch with a knee-ligament injury during Newcastle's game against Worcester, effectively ending his hopes of playing in those autumn Tests as well.
In November he made another comeback, for Newcastle against Bristol, but suffered kidney damage that required a month's rest. But he eventually played his first game for England since the 2003 World Cup in the opening Six Nations game against Scotland. His return, and his effect on the England team and the Twickenham crowd, was audible and tangible in that 42-20 win. He scored 27 points, and even the TMO Donal Courtney appeared to be caught up in the Wilkinson feel-good factor that day when awarding him a try that almost certainly wasn't.
This, admittedly, was put in context by his performances against Italy and as part of the English team beaten by Ireland in Croke Park. He missed the last two games against France and Wales after being sidelined by cramp in a club game, but did play in all three World Cup warm-up games only for a twisted ankle in training to cast his country's World Cup hopes in a cloud and rule him out of England's opening games against the USA and South Africa.
WHEREUPONhis return has coincided with four straight wins. It's not as if he's even been his old self. Admittedly, his bravery and tackling are beyond question, all the more so in light of what has befallen him and primarily his shoulders.
Even so, he is taking the ball even deeper, hardly offers a running threat, is once again indebted to having Mike Catt alongside him as "guvnor" and alternative first receiver, while his kicking out of hand has been prosaic at best and off the ground has assuredly never been worse.
Of the 16 place-kickers to have taken at least 15 kicks at goal in this World Cup, Wilkinson's success ratio ranks him 15th, with 17 out of 28 for a 60.7 per cent return. It will come as no surprise to moderately relieved Irish supporters to learn that only Georgia's Merab Kvirkashvili has done worse.
He landed only a modest four from seven in the 12-10 win over Australia and his success rate with drop-goals is only five from 10, yet as in the quarter-final, cometh the hour against France, cometh the comeback kid.
Having kept England in touch with a difficult-angle penalty, he stepped up to land a routine kick and then steered a beautifully struck drop-goal between the posts to push them four points ahead. Cue the cult of the celebrity again.
SOME OF THOSEclose to him reveal that behind the barrier he has to put up in public, he is a genuine, easy-going bloke and great company. He has availed of the lengthy, enforced absences since the last World Cup to learn to play guitar and piano and to speak French and Spanish, becoming adept at all of them.
Something of an obsessed perfectionist and tortured soul throughout much of his playing career, most notably in the World Cup four years ago when it was suggested he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Wilkinson this week gave a typically candid assessment of his attempts to change.
"I'd like to think I'm different, that I've grown up a bit and developed, maybe not in the way I thought would be the case four years ago. I've encountered some things which I have learnt from and have taught me some good lessons, changed me as a person and turned me 180 degrees on some issues.
"It's allowed me to see things a bit differently and not take things for granted. I'm still struggling to enjoy these occasions as they happen but I'm still enjoying being here and being part of this team and this adventure."
That was almost good to hear. Sometimes, when among several the media in a packed conference room, you feel uncomfortable listening to confessional self-awareness in language more suitable for a one-on-one with a psychologist. And as he continues, you listen to this perfectionist endeavour to enjoy the moment more - only to hear him come full circle and basically confess it's beyond him.
"It's allowed me to step back out of the obsessional bubble I was stuck in at times and get a better view of what's going on and have more control over my emotions. But when Friday and Saturday come around it's as if not much has changed. Some things will always be the way they are," he admits, smiling at the hopelessness of his plight.
In his column in the Timeslast Monday, he gave an insight into this tortured soul: "I got one hour's sleep on Saturday night and yesterday I felt again as if I had a rotten hangover. Late-night games are always like that for me: you get back late, you see family and friends, then you eat and then I like to go for a stroll, just to tire myself out to help me to sleep. When I did go to bed, I slept for about an hour but these grazes on my knees were burning and I couldn't have the bedsheets touching me, and I had a pain in my stomach and my back. And my mind won't stop racing . . . I'm just wired. It's undoubtedly about the adrenalin you've cooked up through the previous day. I wonder if there is a medical reason for it, the toxins of anxiety and nerves, because the next day I feel hungover, regardless of how I sleep. I just wake up feeling sick. I lie in bed just feeling ill, sick in the stomach, my head aching.
"Maybe it is the kicking that contributes. Standing over that penalty with five minutes to go: that was nerve-racking. You can feel and see your shirt moving with your heartbeat. As much as people might think that's your job and you don't look nervous, I tell you: it isn't like that."
That's the way it's always been for Wilkinson, as he revealed last Wednesday: "I've never played in my career, for Newcastle or whoever, when my heart has not been racing beforehand."
He also revealed that Catt had said to him in the dressingroom beforehand, "This is Jonny Wilkinson time." How right Catt was. That added responsibility is something Wilkinson readily accepts and consumes completely, undoubtedly to the detriment of his own enjoyment of the game. So, while he might seem like a perfect candidate for an individual sport, in actual fact the reverse is probably the case.
The sense of responsibility weighs him down, makes him sick with nerves, makes him practise to the point where he won't leave a session until he completes a perfect set of 18 kicks from varying angles at the end of each session.
And it's why, if England are still within a score entering the last quarter, his team-mates and every English person watching will believe they have a chance, that nothing is impossible.
Because, whoever writes his script, this is Jonny Wilkinson time again.
