It was time to see how Jonny Wilkinson responded to a week of criticism. Yes, people have been criticising Wilkinson after England’s collapse against Wales. Criticising Jonny! Hard to believe, I know: like having a go at Mother Teresa, Superman, the Queen or Paddington Bear.

Wilkinson must go, they said. Time for change, the old boy is past it. Well, he did have a shocker in the mad six minutes when England lost match, plot and heads. Wilkinson’s crazy pass to Danny Cipriani stood out as a glaring error on a day when there were plenty to choose from.

So Wilkinson ran out to play against Italy on a glorious Roman afternoon yesterday. He was the only World Cup-winner in the starting XV. The captain, Phil Vickery, was out with a poorly tum; Wilkinson stood in for him last week, when he had gone off with a poorly calf. And when a side collapses like that, you have to question the on-field leadership.

Oh God, now I’m criticising Jonny. Superman failed to save the world, Paddington found no one to look after him. The world really shouldn’t be like this. But there it is; sport has to be cruel, even to people like Jonny. That’s why we watch it. And Wilkinson was not captain yesterday: demoted, implicit criticism, implicit blame.

England have become the exact opposite of New Zealand. New Zealand are the best in the world apart from at World Cups; England seem to be pretty hopeless unless there’s a World Cup in the month. England were slightly lucky not to come away without another defeat yesterday, but in the first half they gathered enough points – just – to make them safe.

And Jonny was brilliant. Well, fairly brilliant. He is regarded as a player of extreme competence – the competence, at his best, of genius – rather than one of flair and imagination. But the game had hardly started before he took the ball in hand, beat his man, chip-kicked ahead and ran to collect. Most players would have been defeated by the unlucky bounce, but not Wilkinson. He gathered the ball at bootlace height, bending double while still running flat out. Try it some time, see how many balls you pick up.

He was then engulfed by a tackler and it seemed as if that was that – only for us to realise that Wilkinson, with an exquisite, daringly delayed pass had released Paul Sackey for a try. England are seeking to play a more inspired game: here was inspiration. Wilkinson kicked the conversion from wide out right.

Wilkinson also had a deft hand in the second try, acting as the conduit between Jamie Noon and Toby Flood, a dynamic and effective intervention. Flood went over in the corner; Wilkinson hoofed the conversion over from the touchline. It was his 1,000th point for England. Please put this newspaper down for a round of applause, it’s the least we owe him.

I’d like to go on about a performance of towering authority and tell you that Jonny’s back. In truth, as performances go, it was merely pretty damn good. Jonny’s half-back, if you like. He missed an easy conversion, he missed touch, one or two kicks from hand were on the poor side. But he played with conviction and authority, controlling the pace and tempo of the game, at least in the first half when England were on top.

Italy were superb in the second half. They won it 13-3 and gave the England forwards 40 minutes to remember. It wasn’t quite enough. Wilkinson settled nerves with a rock-solid penalty before he was replaced by Cipriani.

Cipriani is the new one, the latest thing, a young player of precocious calm and vision. The subversive element in rugby had suggested that it was time to replace Wilkinson with Cipriani on a long-term basis. Cipriani had 13 minutes to make his case: instead, he made Wilkinson’s case. It was his error that brought Italy so close. His kick – cool, nonchalant, all the time in the world – was charged down by Simon Picone, who scored the try himself. It was yet another boost to Wilkinson’s cause.

And you know something? Wilkinson is the only person who won’t see it that way. He’ll be genuinely distressed for his rival. He really does believe all that team-ethic stuff, not because he has been told to but because that sort of generosity, that sort of devotion to the shared cause, is one of the most profound parts of his nature.

So this was something to savour. A bad game is just a bad game and everybody has them. It’s what you do next that counts. That is what Jonny did next, and it was a joy to behold. Paddington has reclaimed his own: marmalade sandwiches all round.