If ever there was a sequence of events to sum up England’s current strife, it happened on Friday morning, in the labyrinthine Stade Vélodrome, the day before their World Cup campaign begins with a mixture of anticipation, relief that it finally gets under way, and dread, because, well, that should be obvious by now.
The team bus arrived for England’s final training session and Steve Borthwick was first off, marching towards the changing rooms, not even blinking – you wonder when he last did – a million thoughts colliding all at once. An hour or two later a clutch of his players ambled through the bowels of the stadium and found themselves wandering apprehensively towards the press room. In other words, totally lost.
