Enigma of Woodward's Mr Perfect

Six Nations 2003: Everyone agrees Richard Hill is a master of many trades, but he is a stubbornly anonymous hero

Miles Kington, our sister newspaper's columnist, has a theory that a nondescript name is a serious bar to celebrity or notoriety. Who would ever have heard of Einstein, the thinking goes, if his name had been Smith or Jones? This is grist to Richard Hill's mill, as he prepares to creep up unannounced and clobber the French at Twickenham next Saturday.

When Hill set out on the road to 52 caps (and counting) in England's back row, there was a namesake still playing who had captained his country from scrum-half. It was a fine start to our hero's bid to be famous for being anonymous.

Even more confusingly, both men also played for Salisbury, where the younger Hill learned the ropes until joining Saracens, his second and probably last club, in his late teens. A more self-conscious individual might have tried the George Bush trick and employed a middle initial. Picture Twickers last November, when Hill clocked up his international half-century against the All Blacks. "Ladies and gentlemen... Richard A Hill."

No, not his style, but what is? Salisbury's current captain, Don Parsons, first came across the England and Lions star in the making when Hill was aged 12 or 13, "mucking around with a ball" during training. In due course they became friends, occupying the back row for club and county (Dorset & Wilts). On occasions they both wore No 8, which made for some fun with the referees. "I've never seen anyone quite like Richard," Parsons says. "We drove up to London when he had his trial game for Saracens, on the second team pitch at Wasps. He had a bellyful of sandwiches at Fleet services, then went out and did his stuff, against Jeff Probyn and Lawrence Dallaglio among others. And Saracens made him an offer and I thought 'wow', but Richard just took it all in his stride."

Makes you sick, doesn't it? Parsons laughs. "Richard always wanted to be a professional rugby player. I remember we had a conversation before the game went open and he said 'What do you think about agents, and getting paid?' and I thought it was ridiculous. But he kind of knew it was going to happen. So he was in the right place for the opportunities when they came."

In the right place at the right time: the unspoken motto of Richard Hill. Canvass the rugby fraternity, and it is the phrase most often used. A word in the cauliflower ear of Bill Beaumont, England's 1980 Grand Slam captain and now doyen of the Rugby Football Union, elicits the same response. Beaumont, it turns out, is planning to name his all-time England XV in a book to be published in the autumn. And Hill is in it.

The next question is where: six, seven or eight? "You can play him in any position in the back row," said Beaumont. "I happen to think seven could be his best." That puts him ahead of Peter Winterbottom and Tony Neary, to name but two. Wayne Shelford, Hill's coach at Saracens, rates him alongside Michael Jones as an openside flanker. Jones's retirement induced Kiwis to bungee jump off Queenstown Bridge without the aid of a rope. From Shelford, scarcely a noted Anglophile, it is praise indeed.

Hill has run out with Neil Back and Lawrence Dallaglio for England more than 30 times in a world record-breaking combination, and consequently compromised by wearing either the six or eight jerseys. "It's not the most glamorous role," said Beaumont, "but Richard gets enormous satisfaction out of doing the job he does. A lot of it is instinctive. His major attribute is that others play well with him. He makes other players look good. He's a player's player, without a doubt."

Shelford is of a similar mind. "He's of a good size and carries his bulk well," said the eminent New Zealander, "and the intensity he plays at is high for the whole game. He understands the body language of other players around him."

So the secret is in the insouciance. Hill hits unsuspecting opponents like sniper fire from a hidden window. He is quick enough to thrive at sevens, and his 11 England tries have each been different. A burglar's steal from a maul against Wales; a wriggle from the tackle and a 40-metre run-in to overturn France's lead on their last trip to HQ two years ago (and set up a 48-19 thrashing).

Clive Woodward this week made his customary noises about selecting for England on form, which cannot be easy for Hill in a struggling Saracens side. But Woodward has never dropped him. "It's hard to define," said the coach. "He's just a world-class player. I can't recall him having a bad game for England."

Jonny Wilkinson described Hill as "a solid, reliable friend" on the 2001 Lions tour of Australia, adding: "his phenomenal work rate simply demands selection". Wilkinson also related how, after the despicable elbow from Nathan Grey that put Hill out of the Second Test, a scan showed the injured party's skull to be a centimetre thicker than average. So the man has even got a genetic advantage when it comes to piling face-first into rucks and mauls.

Hill played in the Lions' two winning Tests in South Africa in 1997 – the year of his first England cap – and missed the third, which was lost. The Lions were 11-6 up when he left the field concussed against the Wallabies in 2001, having won the first Test. A third tour, to New Zealand in 2005, must be his goal.

Hill is 29, going on 30 in May. Going on 65, chuckle his team-mates, who award him gold medals for grumbling. Apparently only happy when he is unhappy, he once described England training as "mindless running up and down pitches", though, of course, he did it anyway.

Saracens have seen players come and go, including Hill's one-time house-mate Tony Diprose, with whom he signed one of England's first professional contracts in 1996. But Hill remains, and his mum, dad and sister attend most matches. "They are lovely, down to earth people," said Parsons. "They don't show how proud they are, they just get on with it." As Woodward put it: "We don't take Richard for granted." Nor should any of us.