Rugby World Cup/Focus on England: As an international centre three-quarter, Clive Woodward specialised in the tactics of evasion. As a coach, he seems unable to shake the habit. One trade's asset, however, is turning out to be another one's liability.

As he strives to put the best possible gloss on England's progress in the World Cup, the feint and the dummy are not bringing the same rewards.

If he wins the tournament a week on Sunday, it will matter not a jot or tittle that, since some time in the middle of last month, observers of England's campaign have become progressively less inclined to believe a word he says. Should he fail to bring the William Webb Ellis Cup to England, however, then unfairly or not his recent attempts to manipulate the evidence will come to be seen as indicative of a fatal flaw at the heart of his campaign.

Control is the key to Woodward's method. A successful businessman during the period between his careers as a player and a coach, he is intent on leaving nothing to chance as England approach their rendezvous with destiny.

Yet, having navigated with great skill over the past four years, he seems to be having difficulty coping with the unexpected currents and breezes that inevitably spring up during the course of such a tournament. And his failures have the unfortunate side-effect of lending credibility to the largely inaccurate perception of England as an arrogant bunch.

On Sunday night, Woodward lost a degree of respect in many eyes when he brushed aside perfectly sensible questions from French reporters with a brusqueness that surprised even those accustomed to his unpredictable manner. This looked very much like a man facing the biggest challenge of his life and starting to fray under the pressure.

He was at it again yesterday. Addressing the media at the team's beachside hotel in Manly, his words were as smooth as his raspberry cashmere V-neck sweater. He even delivered an apology to his French inquisitors of the previous evening, pleading the special tension of the aftermath of a big match.

But you would have needed the finest of sieves to isolate a grain of certifiable truth from what he said in response to questions containing criticisms of England's performances so far.

The question of Richard Hill's fitness is the touchstone. The flanker, Woodward claimed, has been "injury-free" since last Friday. Like the rest of the squad, including Josh Lewsey and Iain Balshaw, last weekend's late casualties, Hill is available for selection against France on Sunday, according to the coach.

But that was what Woodward said about Hill in the run-up to the pool match against South Africa on October 18th. The injury that forced Hill out after 50 minutes of England's opener, against Georgia, has had an obvious cost to the effectiveness of the back row. Yet, somehow Woodward has got the idea that to admit the existence of a problem is to admit weakness.

Even more significant is his attitude to the form of Jonny Wilkinson. Challenged to admit that his brilliant outhalf appears to have lost his once bulletproof self-confidence, Woodward switched the emphasis to Wilkinson's contribution in defence. "He was awesome at the weekend," the coach said, "Defensively he was everywhere. I don't want to change Jonny Wilkinson. He hasn't changed. That's him."

Woodward's words flew in the face of the evidence that, for all his 23 points against Wales, Wilkinson's contribution in open play, and therefore his contribution overall, has diminished markedly. At the moment the team lack a creative force at outhalf, which is why Woodward had to bring on Mike Catt at half-time.

The truth is that, compared with expectations justifiably built on their record over the past couple of years, England have spent the past month underperforming on a massive scale.

Those three back-to-back victories over the Southern Hemisphere giants at Twickenham last winter, the subsequent Grand Slam triumph and the wins in Australia and New Zealand during the summer built an aura of invincibility which has melted in the sunshine of an antipodean spring.

England can say, pointing to their second-half performances against South Africa, Samoa and Wales, that their resilience is undamaged. Yet facing a determined assault from Wales in last Sunday's opening 45 minutes, they simply panicked.

Woodward, however, preferred yesterday to take refuge in the improved penalty count, down to single figures against serious opposition for the first time in this tournament. That alone is alarming evidence of the extent to which the team's performances have regressed.

Over the past six years, Woodward has assembled the best England side within living memory. Their 14 consecutive Test victories between March 2002 and August 2003 is the fourth-longest winning run in history. But what we have seen over the past month is a side disturbingly like the one-dimensional England that Woodward inherited from Jack Rowell.

They are better than that, of course. Still good enough to win this World Cup, even. But evasiveness belongs on the pitch, not in the post-match analysis.

With his gift for mind games, Woodward should know that to deny evident weakness is to give strength to England's opposition.

Guardian Service