Heavyweight Champion Faces Final Round

Like the fading heavyweight slowly unwrapping his bandages, there is a quiet nobility about the final moments of a great career. In Martin Johnson's case, there is also the visible certainty he has timed his exit perfectly. As with Steve Waugh at the Sydney Cricket Ground early last year, it is possible to learn an awful lot about a man by the manner in which he leaves the stage.

As Johnson shared his valedictory thoughts this week before his last competitive game of rugby, it was certainly a privilege for those surrounding him in a corner of a nondescript room at Leicester's training ground. No one would ever accuse Johnson, even at 35, of going soft but in his last days a remarkable transformation has taken place. Rarely has such a popular sporting figure revealed himself to be so utterly at odds with his one-dimensional public image.

For years he simply glowered at opponents, referees and the media; these days the trademark frown appears to have been mysteriously Botoxed. He still gives every impression of being up for this afternoon's Zurich Premiership final against Wasps at Twickenham - when has he not been? - but there is now an inner peace and an exterior warmth that never featured in his warrior prime. When he finally lays down his shield, he will do so a deeply fulfilled sportsman.

As, of course, he should be. Even Sir Steve Redgrave cannot claim such a staggering CV; a World Cup, eight Lions Test appearances (including an unprecedented two tours as captain), two Five Nations titles, two Six Nations titles, five domestic league titles and two knockout cup victories, plus Heineken Cup success in 2001 and 2002. Today is his 500th first-class career start; in the great scheme of things a last-day defeat would count for little.

From where Johnson sits, the future beyond next month is also uncharacteristically hazy. "A little bit of me can't really take it in. I've been here since I was 17. That's more than half my life. You can't really get your head around the fact you won't coming back for pre-season to get flogged. Maybe when the final whistle goes against Wasps and we're sat in the changing room it'll sink in."

But surely he must feel slightly different. "You guys love the sentimentality of it all but we live in a very practical world. Saying 'take it easy on me, I'm old' doesn't really cut it, does it? If I'm going down to Twickenham thinking 'wow, this is my last time' I won't be doing my job. I'll be made to look very stupid very quickly."

Nor, in the 16 years since his first- team debut for Leicester against the RAF in a midweek game at Welford Road, has his love for the Tigers dimmed? "The great thing in those days, if you actually got on the field for the first team, was that you got all the kit. I remember [club secretary] John Allen going down the end of the corridor with a key, opening a door and getting all the training clobber out. That was pretty big."

Such intricate recollections are typical Johnson. Maybe that was why he never suffered fools, because no one knew more about his specialist subjects than he did. He can still remember the game at Bath when he first leapt to prominence, as well as the high tackle on Dale "The Chief" McIntosh which got him sent off playing for College Old Boys against Taupo United during a spell in New Zealand in 1989-90 when he ended up representing the Junior All Blacks.

Ultimately, though, there was no place like home. "The best thing about this job is coming in to work with guys who are like-minded. It's a very enjoyable way to make your living. I've been very fortunate, not least that my parents moved to Market Harborough from Birmingham. Would I have been inspired to play rugby if I hadn't had Leicester Tigers to aspire to? Possibly not."

Nor would he still be around, he reckons, if rugby had not reinvented itself in the wake of professionalism. "If you watched some of the games from the early 90s now you'd probably fall asleep after 20 minutes. That was the game then. But between 1995 to 1997 rugby in this country changed. People began to realise we could play just as well as the southern hemisphere. Pitches improved too. Nowadays you're likely to get a decent surface even in the middle of winter and that's had more influence than any law changes. It's also kept me keen. If the game hadn't changed I might not still be playing."

The West Indian cricket captain Clive Lloyd once confided that: "It's time to retire when your eyes go, your knees go and your friends go." By such criteria, Johnson and Neil Back could probably soldier on but the sporting historian in Johnson insists otherwise.

"I think change is a natural, healthy thing. I sometimes felt we've been around too long. You look at teams who have carried on being successful. They have always changed their teams and got rid of guys before they retired. Look at Liverpool, Wigan in rugby league, the San Francisco 49ers in their great days. If you've got the same guys you get the same voices all the time. That's probably what happened to us in 2002. We got a little bit stale."

Instead he will shortly be able to sit back, contemplate his next career move - "It's very frustrating being a coach but you've almost got an obligation to pass on your experience to the next generation" - and enjoy being a spectator. He would like to sample the Tour de France and watch Liverpool play more often but, above all, he craves the freedom of a life not completely ruled by rugby. If anyone deserves a break, he does.