Twenty-odd years ago, when Richard Cockerill was telling opponents precisely what he thought of them and squaring up to All Black opponents during the haka and generally instilling a touch of the street-urchin spirit into the England front row, he was the butt of many an in-joke among his fellow hookers.
“Cockers can make the ball talk,” said one rival after an England training camp in the early years of Clive Woodward’s stewardship of the national team. “And when he does, it says: ‘Mate, you don’t know what you’re doing’.”
The received wisdom back then was that the bullet-headed Midlander...