Fortified by the twin powers of England

Johnson now the polished article of a true figurehead

Irresistible comparisons between Jonny Wilkinson and David Beckham are the flavour of this World Cup month, fuelled by an adidas advertisement featuring the gilt-edged duo. But a point of order, please. Martin Johnson is the captain of England, not Wilkinson. Got that, Jonny? Johno's the boss.

Not that Johnson feels he has an image problem. Far from it. He may be the rugby player's rugby player, but he plays the game in every sense. He is currently to be seen in a television ad of his own, for ITV, menacingly taping his hands in the moody solitude of an empty Twickenham. It follows on from him posing full-length on a billboard with only a can of beer to cover his modesty, and baring a grotesque set of fangs to flag up Sky's coverage of the last Lions tour. It might go to the head of a lesser man. Johnson, we can be sure, has things under control.

"Sponsors want your time and your involvement in things, and you keep it in balance," he said. "The priority is always yourself, your well-being, your rugby training, and your family. The media can say what they want about me, it's a free press. With commercial things, it's a little bit different. If it's a good ad that gets people interested in watching rugby and the tournament, it's done its job. It doesn't bother me. You play along with it, they tap into an image of you, but it's all pretty good-natured and hopefully for the good of the game."

While Wilkinson appears to be crossing that rarely breached boundary of rugby union, into the wider public consciousness, Johnson remains the deity of Middle England. His disciples hold him dear to their hearts as they flock to Twickers and Leic-ester's Welford Road, but they are an undemonstrative crowd. They smile and nod in recognition at Johnson's famous reply to the question of what he would have done had he not been a professional rugby player: he would, he said, have been an amateur rugby player.

Yet such are Johnson's achievements, he almost is the game as far as English rugby is concerned. As a captain, he has won a Lions tour, a Grand Slam, the Six Nations' Championship, Triple Crown, Heineken Cup, Zurich Premiership and domestic cup. Only the World Cup is missing from a unique list.

It is difficult now to imagine him stamping cheques and counting fivers behind the counter of the Midland Bank in Market Harborough, although that is what did during the first two years of his England career, between 1993 and the 1995 World Cup. Johnson has become the epitome of leading by example, but it is not a quality that lends itself to definition, much less by the man himself.

"Much is made about my captaincy by you sort of people," Johnson said. "When you win games you're looked on as a great captain. I'd say when you win games you've got a good team. The last year with England has been pretty low-maintenance. The boys have played pretty well, the attitude is always good. It's not been the most difficult of jobs. I don't read stuff about me and get worked up about it. Everyone's in their pigeon hole that's made for them, and that's fine. If you win, as a captain you get more credit than you actually deserve."

There are some strong characters in the England squad. Lawrence Dallaglio and Jason Leonard: streetwise, puff-chested, unflappable. Neil Back, heir apparent to Johnson's Leicester captaincy this season. Ben Kay, another clubmate, learning the second-row trade alongside the master. They all defer to Johnson: their body language around him tells you so. In turn, he deftly deflects any praise for bringing younger men like Kay on.

"People are under the illusion that the captain does everything," Johnson said. "Guys have their own area, that they're asked to concentrate on off the field as well as on it, and Ben does a lot of England's line-out work. It's a good division of responsibilities.

"When the last World Cup was on, Ben had just come to Leicester from Waterloo, and the early part of his career was very quick. By the end of that first season, 1999-2000, he was alternating games with Fritz van Heerden. Then Fritz retired and Benny went on to play a key part in our European win the following year, and got into the England team the year after that. He's had a very steep learning curve, and in four years gone from being a new boy at Leicester to being an established England player with probably 20 caps." (The precise figure is 22.)

Johnson has grown gradually more comfortable with the demands of the media, the people he calls "you lot". His disciplinary problems appear to have receded in the 18 months since his most recent suspension, for punching Saracens' Robbie Russell. A spot of amateur psychology could put that down to Johnson becoming a father. He has, he says, spent his last batches of free time before leaving for Perth mostly sitting on a couch at home (he thrusts his hands out in a juggling-the-baby gesture which, let us hope, has nothing to do with line-out practice).

The World Cup, he insists, has not occupied his every waking moment. "You can't do that. Physically in rugby you have to be up and down, and mentally it is the same. It's one of the skills of the job. Of course your mind sometimes strays to it, but you've got to relax. It's the same in a Test week. All the guys get the Thursday off, and you've got to switch off. Otherwise you'd get too nervous."

A nervous Johnson is another image that is tough to summon up. He says this England team are better than the side he led only as far as the quarter-finals in 1999. When he is reminded that things didn't quite go right either with the Lions in Australia two years ago, he nods curtly and cuts in: "We didn't win it".

Whatever else Martin Johnson permits us to imagine he is in rugby for - the game, the money, the quiet respect of his peers - we can be certain he is in it to win it.