Soho Square, London; Thursday. The headquarters of the Football Association were besieged, Steve McClaren and his umbrella had been dismissed and what some people see as the grossly-paid show ponies and their shopping wives were eliminated from the European Championship.

Across the square, it seemed that there might be another triumph of style over substance. On the leather seats of the boardroom of his management company (they also handle Steven Gerrard and Michael Owen) sat Paul Sackey, fashionably late, stylish in leisurewear and corkscrew hairstyle. From those females between the ages of 16 and 50 who knew I was going to interview him, there was a unanimous request to be allowed to carry my briefcase.

Sackey told me that he had just turned down a home visit from MTV’s style programme - he lives in Chelsea – because he wants to remain a private person. Isn’t that what celebrities always say? He was a striking figure in England’s World Cup campaign when his blistering pace brought him four tries but he is still seen in some quarters as a gaudy attacker, a sprinter who plays rugby, and not an all-round player. “The perception was that I could score tries and that I was quick, but that I didn’t have much interest in the game.” He has said in the past that he did not always take rugby, a belated love long after football ensnared him (he was devastated by England’s football failure), as seriously as he should, which is why he was past his mid-twenties when he was finally capped (last autumn against New Zealand). “I am a very laid-back person,” he says. Really? Thanks, Paul.

He’s told me about his life away from rugby, his outlet for the postrugby years in the car trade. If you have images of Sackey and eager Wasps welding two old bangers together and turning back the clock, forget it. He sources high-end cars for major corporate clients. “You know, fund managers, big brokers, footballers.” He has close ties with Ferrari and Lamborghini. “At that end of the market they might only be selling 10 cars a year. If I can tell them I might sell three or four, it’s fantastic.” Even the RFU’s own website records his sourcing record – £333,000, for a Rolls-Royce Phantom.

Glossy or what? Well, no, actually. It does not in itself deny a triumph of style over substance to admit that Sackey is wonderfully engaging and honest. But the initial impressions begin to seriously unravel when you delve into his rugby career and his choices. There, behind the beam, you find steel and sweat. The evidence of your own eyes also tells you that Sackey, on his day, is now world class, and that Sackey’s days are becoming more frequent.

As well as compiling an all-round game, he retains that deadly striking power that helped save England in France. In the must-win match against Samoa, he scored two memorable tries, the second with a devastating supporting run on to a short burst by Jonny Wilkinson, when he came gliding out of nowhere.

Against Tonga, another must-win, he scored two more and in terms of significance, he correctly relegates the more memorable, an 80m sprint, to second place. “The most important try I’ve ever scored was the other one against Tonga.”

England trailed, were misfiring badly, and gambled away the chance of a sure three points for Wilkinson to project a high diagonal towards the panther-like Sackey. Our big cat pounced.

The greatest fallacy about Sackey is that it all comes from natural talent, and that he has done little to nurture it. Below the surface, this is one of the most dedicated of athletes. His first senior club was Bedford, where he began a friendship with Andy Gomarsall, the incumbent England scrum-half, which was to be forged through blistering effort. He was in his early 20s, by now ignored by England after an appearance against the USA in a non-Test game, and realising that sporting life might pass him by. So he and Gomarsall threw themselves on what are reputed to be the gruelling training mercies of Margot Wells, wife of former 100m Olympic champion Allan and famous for her excellence in improving sportspeople.

For around six years, until injury curtailed the link quite recently, Gomarsall and Sackey have subjected themselves to Wells. I watched them once, the three of them. It looked hard work, and lonely.

“She does everything, not just sprints coaching,” says Sackey, 28. “She gives you confidence. She is so clever. Your legs might be tired so she finds a drill to make you feel fresh and get your legs bouncing. She is also well known for changing the way that people run, making them more balanced, more efficient and quicker. If she looked at that long run against Tonga she would find something that wasn’t right. We’d go two or three times a week. We had to be dedicated to go and to pay out of our own pockets, on our days off.”

In those years, they drove from Bedford to Guildford’s Surrey University campus, a round trip of 160 miles and along some of the most clogged roads in Britain (M1, M25). Last month, the duo played together in the World Cup final, no less. “We looked back at all the miles we did and all the work. It was so hard. We used to imagine being in the England team, and we told each other that it was all going to pay off one day.”

Sackey’s fierce ambition is also reflected in his move, two seasons ago, from London Irish to Wasps. “I still like the Irish but I wanted to become a better player, I wanted to have an array of stuff and Wasps had awesome coaches like Warren [Gatland] and Shaun [Edwards]. Now there is Geech [Ian McGeechan]. I wanted to win things, I didn’t want my career to end without having done something.”

With medals for the Guinness Premiership, a Heineken Cup and a runners-up medal for the World Cup, Sackey is smiling all the way to the try-line. He has a rare ability to find space in crowded areas and has a balance between working his station out wide and doing his share up the middle. It is a matter of reading the play, and the form player. “At the moment Fraser Waters is playing really well. If Fraser gets the ball then he might make a half-break, so you want to get on his shoulder just in case.”

He loves his Wasps. When describing what he regards as the best try of his career, a 90-yard dazzle for Bedford against Wasps at Loftus Road, he cannot bring himself to mention by name the Wasps he beat on his way. “Gomars passed me the ball, near our line. I stepped a few people, then stepped the left-wing, and I was away.” Research reveals the left-wing that day was Josh Lewsey, a fine defender and neither the first nor the last to be left behind by Paul Sackey. All very stylish. And wonderfully effective. London Wasps v Newcastle, Adams Park, today, 3pm