On the night before their first Test this year, a crucial Six Nations opener against France, the England team room was suitably tense and atmospheric. The lighting was as subdued as the mood, with a giant blue screen emitting a soft glare as constant as the players' serious expressions. They knew what the next day would mean. A brutal confrontation would mark the start of a 10-month campaign culminating in the World Cup and its definitive examination of their claim to sporting greatness.

There was no need for any last-minute video analysis on the big screen. They had done their work. They were ready. They waited expectantly while Clive Woodward rose to address them. He needed the right set of words for a squad closing in on the kind of massive assurance which elevates prospective world champions.

Woodward's ensuing speech carried all the hallmarks of his engagingly zany brain and, typically, mixed the business seminar-speak, word-swallowing enthusiasm and plain old common sense which has seen him transform England into, currently, the most formidable force in international rugby.

"I'm often asked the question about motivation and how do you motivate this team," Woodward said to the huge men gathered around him. "I want to give you a very simple answer. I think the word 'motivation' is the biggest load of bollocks I've ever come across. The only way you motivate a team is very simple: if you get the right people in this room, the right people on the bus tomorrow, the right people in the changing room, motivation just takes care of itself. I wouldn't dream of trying to motivate Martin Johnson, Lawrence [Dallaglio], Jason Leonard ... but I just want to show you one thing I did note which kinda, uh, has kinda been keeping me smiling all week."

Woodward strolled over to a flip chart. "This is one of the quotes that came from the French coach," he said. He flicked over the page and read out the words: "England can never win games that really matter - Laporte."

He allowed the charge to sink in and then, once he had stressed that he and his assistant coach, Andy Robinson, "totally and utterly trust every single player in this room," he concluded with a mildly beguiling instruction:

"Enjoy it. Get behind Johnno. Get behind Jason Leonard. Let's have a really good day."

He was equally soothing before England's grand slam showdown in Dublin. "Stop biting your nails," Woodward grinned at the brooding Robinson. "It'll be all right."

England duly beat France 25-17 and hammered Ireland 42-6 at Lansdowne Road. It looked as simple as Woodward always claimed. He had the "right people" on the pitch, in the specialist coaching positions and even driving the bus. Where he was once castigated in the heavyweight world of Test rugby for being a dilettante, an airy merchant of spin, Woodward's attention to detail is positively redoubtable. His greatest gift, however, is his ability to instil searing conviction and a fierce collective spirit with the lightest of touches.

Six days away from England's opening World Cup romp against Georgia, Woodward can now enjoy himself even more openly. He insists that the upbeat mood will not turn sombre when the serious stuff begins with a ferocious group match against South Africa a week on Saturday.

Woodward even reacts to a reminder of his French set-piece, captured in a fly-on-the-wall documentary called Inside England Rugby: Sweet Chariot, with relaxed amusement. He laughs when it is pointed out that, despite his protestations, he still uses some of the oldest motivational tricks in the game.

"Perhaps you're right but I would never say my role is to motivate Martin Johnson - just like my bosses wouldn't claim to motivate me. They know I just do what I do. I make sure my players take on board every bit of information to help them prepare for a game. They also need to know that everything's been done to help them become the best players in the world. That's my job but these players are like me. They're self-starters."

In another briefly revealing moment on camera the England coaches have the luxury of sitting silently on the dressing-room floor at the Millennium Stadium. The game against Wales is only minutes away. Yet they merely watch and listen as Johnson, Woodward's ultimate self-starter, delivers an inspirational team-talk on their behalf.

The charming paradox of Woodward's character runs through this filmed version of their past 12 months - just as his contradictions stitch together the despairing defeats and exhilarating victories which have made his six years in charge the most interesting period in England's often dour rugby history.

Woodward also told his players before the French game that their defeat in Paris a year earlier had marked the decisive "turning point for this team". And yet a couple of hours later he pinned back the bemused ears of his fellow coaches, Robinson and Phil Larder, with a conflicting statement that England could learn only from their victories.

Woodward loves an amiable argument and so he responds passionately to my own conviction that the steel in his team has been shaped most by the determination of Johnson, Dallaglio, Neil Back, Richard Hill and the rest not to taste the bitter defeat which once threatened to choke them forever - in three successive Six Nations deciders and against New Zealand and South Africa in the last World Cup.

"No," he insists, "I don't agree. This is something I learnt in business. The clich' is that, when you clinch the big deal, you go straight down the pub and get pissed. If you blow the deal, then everybody gets hauled in for the eight o'clock showdown the next morning. That's crap. The smart boss knows that, if you get the deal, then that's the time to call the 8am meeting."

"And if you lose the deal?"

"Go out and get pissed," Woodward laughs. "But there's a serious point to be made. If you only learn from your rare losses - if you've had 10 wins and one defeat - you barely move ahead. When you've won it's easy to say, 'Great, let's have a couple of days off.' But that's when you must redouble your efforts. That's what I've done with this team. We've never over-reacted to a loss. I prefer to concentrate on success."

Yet the scars of grand slam defeat against Wales, Scotland and Ireland have surely altered both the look and character of his now resolute team?

"The darkest moment," Woodward concedes, "was that loss in Ireland in 2001. We felt utter frustration. Earlier that year we'd played the best rugby I'd ever seen from England. It was fantastic. We scored 50 points against France, [Iain] Balshaw was flying and we were literally unstoppable. And then foot-and-mouth descended, the Dublin game was postponed and a lot went wrong when we eventually met the Irish. That was massively frustrating - nothing else.

"People are too quick to criticise when you lose. I go the other way. It's crazy to still talk about that defeat or the 1999 World Cup. If you're running a sports team and you're talking about four years ago you've lost the plot. We don't look back further than the last four games.

"You can learn from setbacks, absolutely, but put them in perspective and move on. There's this lovely word - experience. You mentioned Johnson and Dallaglio. These are hugely experienced men in terms of highs and lows. But, overall, they're experienced because they've had so many highs rather than one or two lows. That's why they're world- class players and brilliant people; they've taken the hits and the good times and they're still here. This World Cup, for them, is a huge opportunity."

The difference between this World Cup and the last, apart from the obvious fact that England have a strong chance of winning the 2003 version, centres around the canny way in which Woodward now handles the scrutiny. He was emphatic in 1999 that he should be judged solely on the World Cup. England were swept aside by the All Blacks and strangled by the Springboks.

Woodward, in contrast, describes this World Cup "as a huge benchmark which we hope to grasp with two hands" without claiming that England are certain to rip apart South Africa, France, Australia or New Zealand. With the unshakeable confidence instilled by winning 14 out of their last 15 matches, Woodward now allows his results rather than his predictions to speak for him.

"We came back in sober mood from New Zealand and Australia this summer. We won both Tests but we didn't play well. We're setting our standards way above that. We never opened the champagne. We just said, 'Crikey, we didn't play well but we still won.' We can do much better in the World Cup."

The ritual belief among other rugby-playing nations that England are inherently arrogant, and set for another humiliating brush with hubris, will be peddled over the next seven weeks. "Yeah," Woodward sighs, "but I can't change the traditional perception of English rugby. People are going to say anti- English things however we play or act. This is a very successful team but it's a modest team. That's why we've got some outstanding individuals, both as rugby players and as men. People having a go at us doesn't change any of that."

The pressure, however, is enormous. In England anything less than World Cup victory will seem disappointing. Only the All Blacks face more intense expectation. "I don't even know if we're going to play New Zealand yet," Woodward argues. "I only know who we face in our pool. South Africa are under huge pressure. We're under huge pressure. So are France and Australia. They're five countries whose public expect them to win the tournament. I don't think the All Blacks stand out more than anyone. Australia have won it twice and they're at home. They could be the ones to beat."

Woodward smiles slyly then, as if he knows New Zealand will still provide England's ultimate test. "We'll see," he says. "That's why I love this job. You never know what's going to happen next. I keep going over every possible scenario in my head. I never switch off. This is what I do. This is what I've been working toward the last six years.

"I just want to enjoy it. These are great times and you have to relish it - that's what I must get across to the players. We should thrive on the pressure and go out and play. We want to win every World Cup game but we also want to show people that we're a seriously fantastic rugby team. We're not going to go into our shells just because we're playing in the World Cup. We want to win it, of course, but we also want people to remember the rugby England play in this tournament."

Inside England Rugby: Sweet Chariot is released today on DVD (£19.99) or VHS (£15.99).

Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2003