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Jonny and Danny - the show that never ends

It can be hard writing about Jonny Wilkinson and Danny Cipriani. For a start, I will admit that the media are obsessed with them. When Wilkomania was at its height in late 2003, a heading in one of the tabloids screamed "Jonny escapes Death!" What had happened was that a car in which he was a passenger had skidded, rather sedately, on a wet patch or road, grazed a soft bush and stopped without the least alarm or stress being caused to anyone, let alone injury.

Much of what has been written about Wilkinson in the past year or two has been labelled by the public "the Wilkinson backlash", as if the media is now trying to tear down what it created. In fact, it has been nothing more than an expression of the reality that he is not the player he was - he is still superbly handy on his day, but the years of endless practice and thunderous, smashing tackles have taken away a little of the edge.

On Wednesday, Cipriani and Wilkinson were in the news. Wilkinson has a knee injury suffered in the defeat at Gloucester and the poor man may well be out for a long period. It is just conceivable that he has been seen on the Test stage for the last time. Cipriani began his comeback by playing for Wasps against Bath, with a rate of recovery from his own serious injury which has left the medical professional absolutely dumbfounded.

If you think that this is an article about the passing of one King and the advent of another, then you would be wrong. It is a celebration of two Kings, and not just because they are such good copy for hungry hacks.

How blessed are all England followers, and the good name of rugby itself, by the presence in the same era of these two proud, modest and yet brilliant young men. Wilkinson has been a diamond, a wonderful match-winner, kicker and tackler; Cipriani is slightly weaker in some of those aspects, but a brilliant athlete, a maestro.

Yet why compare? Celebrate. Both have been compelling, both set a fantastic example of supreme dedication, balance and tolerance which no parent can fail to appreciate. Neither has let a scrap of their fame go to their heads, or held out for months for a new deal, or done anything bar burnish the sport's reputation as an example to hold before youth, and before arenas where imbalance and strife seem to file. Get well Jonny, stay well Danny. You are both giants.

Cross-border battles

Whole generations of rugby followers were brought up on Anglo-Welsh clashes in club rugby. The first week of Bristol's season used to bring games against Cardiff and Swansea and Newport, all inside eight days, every year. At the end of the week, for those inclined, there was a decent Christian burial.

All that was before leagues, of course, but I recall as a schoolboy taking in those gladiatorial games and never feeling in the slightest cheated because they were, essentially, friendlies. I come to think of it, leagues took so long to come in because there was already so much bite in the games without league status at stake.

No doubt many of you had your favourite match-up - Newport-Wasps was always a massive game; Leicester-Cardiff another; Gloucester battled their way through the Welsh valleys in rather evil midweek matches, played under poor floodlights and with one referee (no touch judges, video cameras or citing officers to spot naughty bits).