Fallen idols

This week we will be mostly concerning ourselves with fallen idols…

Welcome to Loose Pass – our weekly assortment of disjointed thoughts. This week we will be mostly concerning ourselves with fallen idols…

The Taliban might finally be on the run, but their influence appears to be on the rise in England. Laying waste to sacred icons is all the rage.

Jonny Wilkinson was once beyond reproach, a national treasure up there with the Queen Mother and Stephen Fry.

Now, suddenly, anyone who is anyone is calling for his head.

The heretics say he's not the force he once was and that he's responsible for England's lack of va-va-voom in attack.

He's even missing place-kicks now, for crying out loud. What more evidence does the prosecution need?

Not too much it would seems, and calls for a change at number ten are duly flooding in, with 'flood' being the apposite verb.

Steady, people. Let's just back up a bit, crouch down a little, and cup our hands together for a quiet moment of contemplation.

Was Wilkinson ever the flat-standing, risk-taking, free-thinking adventurer that his newly-minted band of critics is able to recall?

We tend to look back through rose-tinted specs and forget that Wilko has always tended towards the conservative.

England scored just two tries in their three play-off games at the 2003 Rugby World Cup. The preceding wins in New Zealand and Australia – inarguably the side's finest hour – featured just three tries, all scored against the Wallabies.

So when was Wilkinson ever the quintessence of adventure? When was he ever the catalyst for all-out rugby? He wasn't. He's always wielded a straight bat and he continues to do the same. The only thing that has changed is the team around him.

And there is where the real problems lie. Once upon a time Wilkinson could count on the 'gargoyles on steroids' to keep him on the front-foot. Now he must make allowances for a decidedly less-steadfast pack of forwards.

Where once he could count on crisp, quick recycled ball, he now must make do with dross.

And that's not the only reason he finds himself standing so deep. The liberal interpretation of the back-foot law doesn't help, but Wilkinson's lack of protection is laughable. He's not so much “lying deeper than a lanternfish” – to quote the estimable Eddie Butler – as lying naked in his hotel bed waiting for a visit from Mossad.

And for all this, lamentably, we'll have to point a finger at Lewis Moody. 'Mad Dog' he might be, but he tends to chase more sticks than he retrieves.

All great fly-halves depend on astute opensides, and what England desperately lack is a seven with hands, speed and nous. You know, a Neil Back. Failing that, how about a Steffon Armitage or an Andy Saull?

Until then, the iconoclasts of the English media will continue to chip away at the wrong pedestal.

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We've had accusations of trips, the “milking” of penalties and that challenge by Jerry Flannery, but thank heavens some things in rugby never change.

We refer to what smells suspiciously like a pact – possibly made over a beer – between Waratahs lock Will Caldwell and Reds lock Adam Byrnes after they were cited for their altercation during the Waratahs' dramatic 30-28 win in Brisbane at the weekend.

Charged with eye-gouging and biting respectively, both men assured the judiciary that no harm was intended.

Byrnes said he did not feel pressure to his eye and Caldwell said he had not had his finger bitten.

All well and good, but why the lacerations to the aforementioned appendage?

Simple, claimed the duo. Caldwell's digit had, indeed, “strayed” into Byrnes's mouth but that the damage was caused “not by a bite but by his attempt to extract it”.

The Waratahs' doctor supported the claim by stating the finger injury was caused “by a ripping motion rather than a bite”.

And, needless to say, at no point was the digital extraction aided by a helpful poke in Byrnes's eye.

The pair duly walked free, hand in bandaged hand.

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Joking apart and these incidents aside, it's interesting to note the effect good discipline has had in recent weeks, particularly in the Six Nations.

France, not usually too far from the naughty step, have been on impeccable behaviour, and what a difference it has made.

England also appear to have banished the yellow fever that dogged them last year, and the resurgence of the Scots owes a fair amount to their new-found discipline. Well, until it abandoned them in such spectacular fashion in Cardiff…

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Andy Powell was not the only rugby player to have had his collar felt in the last few days (although whether he was actually sporting a collar at the time seems to be the subject of much speculation).

Shoppers at Cape Town's swanky V&A Waterfront were horrified to see Bobby Skinstad nicked by police officers. Not content with that public indignity, they then slung him into a holding pen where he will remain for several days, unable to shield himself from the taunts of passers-by.

But unlike our Welsh chum, this was all a stunt to draw attention to a good cause … not that the former Bok ever had much trouble securing the attention of the media.

But we digress. Please lend your support to his campaign as he seeks to attach shoes to the feet of South Africa's marginalised children.

And why not follow his musing on incarceration via his Twitter feed? But be warned: 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol' it is not.

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With the Super 14's adoption of the new interpretation of the breakdown/tackle law, the likes of Richie McCaw are bound to cast an envious glance towards Melrose RFC. The Borders club has struck upon the perfect tactic to avoid detection when up to no good at the bottom of rucks: camouflage.

Another ancient Scottish club is surely wishing its players were as inconspicuous. That epic in Cardiff between