Richard Williams on Martin Johnson's Retirement

Two months after leading English rugby to the greatest moment in its history, Martin Johnson left it on Saturday with great dignity and perfect timing. There will be no more parades. The World Cup winner's medal is safely tucked away. The scrapes and bruises adorning the mighty brow, the cheek and the mouth sustained in Leicester's crushing victory over Ulster are the only campaign medals to be fought for now.

"Only you know when it's time to go," he said after the match, announcing his retirement from the international scene. "You don't need to talk to anyone. You never stop wanting to play for England but you have to be sensible and realistic about it. I've had a great career and I've been very lucky to play in some good teams, great teams, successful teams, with great players and great coaches."

He had broken the news to Clive Woodward during a telephone call a fortnight ago. "We had a good chat and I thanked him for my involvement over the years," Johnson said. During the World Cup Woodward had asked him to stay on but now, knowing his man, he made no attempt to change Johnson's mind beyond saying, "Are you sure?"

Interestingly England's head coach chose his prepared response to the news to broadcast the hope that Johnson's association with the squad will take another form. "He stands down now having achieved everything there is to achieve as an England player," Woodward said, "and I hope he will be involved in some other capacity in the international team in the future."

Johnson would not be drawn on what form that involvement might take or when it might begin. Improving Leicester's fortunes is his immediate priority. He has spoken of his desire to take a year off from all rugby activities to spend more time with his young family when he retires from playing at club level, probably at the end of this season. But he and Neil Back are seen as the eventual successors to Dean Richards and John Wells at Welford Road, and no doubt Woodward will be keen to reinforce England's coaching strength with Johnson's immense knowledge of the game and powerful personal influence.

As the captain of an international rugby team Johnson may prove to have been the last of his kind. Teak-tough all the way through, reluctant to open up to outsiders who might fail to appreciate the ancient code of an eye for an eye, never favouring a dozen words where a couple would suffice, he embodies certain traditions and core values of the old game. His silent strength made him a beacon to his team-mates. To those of us beyond the touchline he was a symbol, muddied and bloodied but always darkly glowing.

The world being what it is, and rugby union having moved higher in the general consciousness thanks to England's recent historic efforts, his successors will no doubt be required to adopt a more solicitous attitude to the outside world. They will be, in the banal phrase, more media-friendly. But the remarkable sales of Johnson's auto- biography, published a week after the Sydney final and now running close to 350,000 copies, show how readily the public has responded to his straightforward nature and how little media-friendliness really counts when measured against actual deeds.

Of all the dozens of valedictory tributes perhaps the most eloquent, because it came from another man lacking natural eloquence, was delivered by Richards, his former team-mate and now his club's director of rugby. "Having played with Martin," Richards said on Saturday, "and having managed a side in which he has been hugely successful, I know that whatever level he gets up to, he doesn't change. He doesn't suddenly become the king of the castle."

Pride, modesty and realism were at the heart of Johnson's approach to the game. The code of dressing-room omertà means that no one will ever know the full text of what he said to his England team- mates during the huddle in the moments before the kick-off against Australia in the Telstra Stadium on November 22, or the precise content of his exhortations as they reformed their fraternal circle before the start of extra-time. But we can be sure that he found a way to make a direct appeal to the pride of the collective.

His modesty was never the sort that calls attention to itself and on Saturday he was keen to share the applause. "It doesn't matter how good a captain you are," he said. "If you don't have a great team, you're going to struggle. I was lucky to be there at the right time."

As for realism, never was that more clearly on display to the outside world than in the immediate aftermath of the World Cup group match against Samoa in October, when England were lucky to survive after falling behind to a brilliant early try. Afterwards Woodward was at his most protectively diplomatic. "I'm very pleased," the head coach said. "It was a tough Test match. We haven't been at our best but we'll take the result and move on."

Johnson, however, was having none of it. "We've got to take a good look at ourselves," he said, with a sudden urgency in his voice and a furious glint in his eye. "All the the guys are sitting in the dressing room, talking about what we need to do to be a better team." At that moment any doubts that England would win the World Cup began to fall away.

His part in that victory should never be questioned. Having accepted the blame for conceding cheap penalties in the early matches, he proved an example inspiring enough to ensure that, even when England stumbled, they never fell. His own motivation came from telling himself, as England progressed through the knock-out stages, that each match might be his last.

Nor should his technical qualities be underestimated. The late try he scored after a 25-yard dash on Saturday came about because he had spotted a threat wide on the right and was in position to capitalise when Ulster gave the ball away. Among England's forwards he was among the first to exploit the scope for joining the backs in handling movements that, at their very best, gave Woodward's side a wonderful fluency not previously associated with the red rose.

And so the scenery of international rugby changes. England will find another leader, perhaps one day a great one. But without the Tower of Glower, the horizon will be a little less awe-inspiring.