Lewsey the student and soldier recalls another era

England's full-backs of old were a fascinating bunch, all things considered. Dusty Hare must have been photographed sitting astride his tractor with cow dung on his trousers every bit as often as he was pictured in the pristine white of his country. Jon Webb was forever posing in his surgeon's coat, stethoscope dangling from his neck; Alastair Hignell was as comfortable in cricket flannels as in the blue-and-white hoops of Bristol RFC. But these chaps were amateurs, and unlike today's one-dimensional professionals, amateurs were interesting. Such is the theory peddled by the blazered remnants of Old Fartdom, for whom pay-for-play was, and remains, the eighth deadly sin.

They have a point, of sorts, for the union game certainly lost something of the best of itself when it went open after the 1995 World Cup. The happy coming together of the drayman and the doctor in the same side – Bath's front row famously featured a French polisher from the rough neck of the woods, a farmer from the Devon-Cornwall border and a self-styled entrepreneur from Nigeria via Oxford University, complete with snappy suit and stretch limo – was blown away in the time it took the International Rugby Board, those paragons of mismanagement, to sign away the soul of the sport to an unholy conglomerate of businessmen, agents and broadcasting billionaires.

There is, though, an exception to every rule. Step forward Josh Lewsey, a multi-dimensional rugby individual who stands out from the common herd. Five years ago on the so-called Tour of Hell – "Oh, that old cliché," he said with a chuckle this week – he made his England debut at centre against the All Blacks in Dunedin; a week later, he faced the same silver-ferned titans in Auckland, only at outside-half. He has played on the wing for Wasps, often superbly, and now has an opportunity to make a real name for himself in the England No 15 shirt, having forced no less a figure than Jason Robinson to up sticks and find an alternative position for this afternoon's Calcutta Cup meeting with the Scots.

He cuts a dash, does Lewsey. Once dismissed as a "stroppy little sod" – the considered opinion of a purple-faced committee type at Bristol, where the boy first played Premiership rugby while studying physiology and human anatomy at the city's university and pointedly opted to revise for exams rather than turn out in some important matches as the club struggled, unsuccessfully, to avoid relegation – he was sufficiently disciplined during that nightmarish tour of the southern hemisphere to sit his finals under the invigilating eye of Roger Uttley, the England manager. "Dear old Rog," he said. "A unique physiological specimen if ever there was one."

And then... nothing. Not so much as a word from Clive Woodward, the national coach, whom he had impressed mightily with his bravery and commitment in adversity during the blood-lettings against New Zealand and, subsequently, the Springboks. Disappointed and frustrated, Lewsey marched off to Sandhurst for a spell of officer training. He continued to play rugby – on any given Sunday, he might clean out the loos at the barracks before popping over to Shepherd's Bush for a big match at Loftus Road – but an afternoon's thud and blunder was no longer his only obsession. The Army life had taken hold.

So what changed? What lured him back to a short-term future in full-time rugby, when a long-term future in the forces was his for the taking? "There is a balance to be struck between meeting the demands of professional rugby and enjoying the game for what it is," he explained, "and once I'd found that balance, it was much easier to see the road ahead. I suppose rugby was always my priority, even when I was at Sandhurst, but at first, I genuinely thought I could do both jobs. Fairly soon, I realised I was kidding myself – no one can do everything in life, no matter how much energy and enthusiasm they might have. So a decision had to be made, and it was a tough one. I made it, and I'm happy."

It was Shaun Edwards, an outstanding rugby league international now on the Wasps coaching staff, who helped Lewsey organise his thoughts and gave him the confidence to re-commit himself to the game at which he has excelled since childhood, and continues to love to distraction. "He applied some perspective and helped me grow up. I used to spend so much time worrying about my rugby, about who might be ahead of me in the England pecking order. Shaun told me to stop bothering my head with all the negative stuff, to concentrate on getting the ball in my hands and playing a style of rugby that gave me some satisfaction. He was right. I enjoy my job these days, and it shows.

"I'm a pretty optimistic sort, by and large, but I've done my share of soul-searching over the years. I don't think I ever gave up on the England thing, even when it went quiet after the tour in '98, but I did spend a long time asking myself the hard questions. That's what I mean by negativity. In the end, is there any point dwelling on who might be doing this, or why you haven't been picked for that? You could drive yourself crazy. Look at the England full-back position now. We're not talking about two people going for the same shirt, but five or six or seven. It's unbelievably competitive. I watched Jason play for Sale against Leeds last weekend and he scored two awesome tries. Why worry? I don't any more. It's called maturity, I guess."

Maturity and perspective. At 26, Lewsey understands a thing or two about those twin peaks of the career professional's mentality, not least because so many of his Sandhurst peers are now at war in the Gulf. Had he chosen differently at the end of his cadetship, he would be there himself. On Monday, he received letters and e-mails from friends billeted on the Kuwait-Iraq border, and was moved almost to tears.

He has replied to every one of his correspondents, but has no idea when, or if, his messages will get through. Focused as he is on today's Six Nations business, he would be less than human if he shut the international crisis wholly from his mind.

"We all have our jobs to do this weekend, but theirs is a job way beyond anything I'll be carrying out as England's full-back in a game of rugby," he acknowledged. "There again, I made the call between rugby and the Army, and I have to make the most of my chances on the road I chose to follow. For that reason, I cannot afford to look back on the Italy game [when he scored two exceptional tries and was heavily implicated in all of England's good work in the early stages of the match]. This is all about Scotland and how I perform in these latest 80 minutes granted me by the selectors. Nothing else matters – not in the rugby sense, at any rate."

Assuming Lewsey stays fit – and there are few fitter players available to Woodward as he begins to shape his 30-man squad for this year's World Cup – he will make the tour party for the summer Tests with New Zealand in Wellington, and Australia in Melbourne without breaking sweat. His career has come full circle. This particular stroppy little sod has grown into an international-class sportsman with his head screwed on and his heart in the right place. The process was long, and sometimes painful. Was it worth it? Definitely.