Mike Catt’s career has had so many ups and downs that, by comparison, the grand old Duke of York’s men conducted their operations on a level playing field. Bizarrely for one of England’s master craftsmen, he has been discarded by England on roughly 20 separate occasions, he has been out of the England shaker for some time since the last World Cup and he has been edging away from active service for London Irish and into a coaching role.

Yet in the mammoth match against South Africa at the Stade de France on Friday, for which South Africa are strong favour-ites, he will surely be chosen at inside-centre against a giant Springbok midfield that will outweigh him by a disturbing margin, given that this is the era of the big blasters in midfield. And yet he is the key Englishman, the fulcrum of England’s attacking and kicking game. Mike Catt is (very nearly) 36.

Catt is one of England’s most misunderstood and most complete postwar rugby talents, a director of play, an outstanding kicker and passer (though he has drawn the odd hair-raising interception with his long miss-passing) and, still, a cutting runner, and a Cavalier among Roundheads and dunderheads. He still has composure and an ability to make line-breaks either with his quick feet or quick hands, way ahead of his rivals in the England squad.

Does he have the legs, the endurance and the tackling? The fact that he will surely be out there on Friday may also be regarded as an indictment of England’s lame progress, their failure to nurture the successor to Will Greenwood as inside-cen-tre. He will be under assault in his defensive channel from the supercharged Springbok back row and from the fiery Butch James (fly-half in position, lock in size and demeanour) and company. He will be outweighed and ageing.

Yet it is in the head and not the body where Catt can indeed make the difference. The body aches and fades as the years go by, but out on the rugby field, as the wisdom of the years and the hits is absorbed, the mind can become sharper. Catt’s unerring tactical nous can be a prodigious weapon, and especially in the Bok context next Friday.

In life, as in rugby, to ascribe a characteristic to a nation can be deemed at worst as racism, and at best a sweeping generalisa-tion. So it may be harsh to say South Africa lacks leadership, that so often all the power and fury goes to waste because there is nobody to shape it. There are many examples of it, through recent history up to the recent TriNations, when South Africa lost to New Zealand because they did not know how to go about winning, because all the late tactical decisions they made to close out the game were derived from mental mush. This team is superb, but does it have a rugby brain? James may be big, but he is no tactical genius.

If it is close on Friday, Catt can guide England home. Catt knows what to do. If it comes down to the tactics and decisions, England can win.

The sheer size of South Africa’s pack can also be misleading. Take Os du Randt, the gargantuan loosehead prop. It is only two seasons ago that he was taken apart so comprehensively by Julian White in the scrums that it was a wonder he summoned the courage to go back home and face the people of the Land of the Scrum. England’s props, Andrew Sheridan and Phil Vickery, are clever as well as powerful.

And what of the touchstone clash, the confrontation worth the money alone – Bakkies Botha versus Simon Shaw in the lineout. The loose, the scowling, the sledging and the strong-arm? Botha is the kind of gun-fighter who likes his weapons to glitter. He is showy and occasionally less effective than he looks. Shaw is as big, and considerably more artful. Bakkies has youth, the ageing Shaw a doctorate in all the dark arts.

It must be admitted, however, that England will do well to get close enough to bring their nous to bear. There is nothing subtle about the prospect of Schalk Burger, Juan Smith and Danie Rossouw thundering at England, taking the ball on round the fringes. Nor about Botha and John Smit driving the ball up in a second wave.

But it takes some stopping. Joe Worsley faces the game of his life in holding the ferocious, if overcommitted Burger. And Jamie Noon, should he be retained, has to anchor the midfield outside the undersized Catt and either Jonny Wilkinson or Olly Barkley, depending on whether Wilkinson regains fitness after his ankle injury. If Noon plays, he is in for the defensive pounding of his life.

There is also cause to fear South Africa down the wide channels. Percy Montgomery and Bryan Habana have such devastating ability when they are in space, and Catt will need to be deadly accurate if he is to fire out his long passes. Habana is a pred-ator. He has such pace off the mark that he can hang back as if not going for the intercept, draw the pass from the opposition midfield and then accelerate devastatingly to poach a try that was meant to be on a plate for the other team. There are many reasons for the neutral to hope that it can be Habana’s World Cup.

England have an air of the ordinary about their square shoulders. I do not blame Brian Ashton for a millisecond for reining this team in, for shelving his natural instincts and the youngsters who have proved less than the full biscuit. But he is left with a team that will be full of resistance, and yet, it seems, neither big enough to dominate South Africa, or talented enough to cut them apart.

A defeat would not be a disaster in one sense. Provided they beat Samoa, they will still qualify and play either Wales or Australia in the quarter-finals.

But that is not the point. A defeat would reveal them as outside the world’s elite (currently headed by the marvellous Pumas) and would render the quarter-finals not so much as the next stage, as a stay of execution.

Somehow, they have to explode into Friday evening at the Stade, they have to throw Bok power back into Bok faces, and they have to bring their advantages of subtlety and tactical judgment to bear. They have to carry Catt in the sense of masking his potential weakness and allowing him to operate as controller. If they can manage it then a shock is at hand. They will surely play with mighty English passion and the bloody-mindedness of a team desperate to carry their World Cup crown with pride.

But Catt’s ability to control the contest will depend on whether, by the time the ball reaches him, there is still a contest to control.