The South African metronome, his face stuck in a perpetual scowl, thrusts a meaty finger towards the uprights as if he owns them. You're mine, he growls, with the promise that in just a few short seconds an oval ball will be spiralling through them courtesy of his swinging right boot. If there's such a thing as a Test match animal then it is Pollard, the only fly-half present at the final whistle of two victorious World Cup campaigns.