JOE MARLER: This is what it is actually prefer to face the scariest factor that’ll ever hit you – being fed into the mangle of a Springbok scrum… and the right way to beat them at their very own recreation

You try not to feel fear, as an international rugby player. Definitely not as a front-row forward. And then you play South Africa, and a scrum gets called, and suddenly it’s the scariest thing that’s ever hit you.

Here’s how it happens. You go to bind up. Then the fight begins in your head. The doubts: these boys are the best in the world, this is going to hurt, if it goes wrong, this is going to go really wrong.

The challenges: yeah they’re the best in the world, so this is exactly where I want to be, and if we can get parity or even the upper hand, this could be the most beautiful thing we ever do on a rugby field.

It’s not like any other scrum, when you’re up against the Boks. Some international teams you can half get away with it, if you’re struggling. If you get your engagement wrong you can deck it or try to win a penalty.

Not against this lot. If it goes wrong, they feed you into the mangle. And so it’s a powerful feeling to be engulfed by, this intense mixture of scared and excited and fearful. You engage and they push and you try to hold and you think: my entire reputation in rugby will be in tatters if I don’t get this right.

You know what I’m like. I’ve got a reputation for giving it some chat on the pitch. It’s sort of true, but only partially: I was rubbish at it. I engaged in it throughout my international career, but I never perfected the art. It just got me in more trouble.

I worked something out early on. South Africans can be easy to rile up, because they do take it personally. There’s just one major problem: if you’re a flat-track bully like me, you soon find out they’ll tear you a new one in the process.

That’s how it went when I tried it against the best Boks front rowers. Harlequins were playing the Sharks in Durban in the European Cup. Mbongeni Mbonambi and Ox Nche were on fire.

As Ox sent us backwards in the scrum for the third time in three minutes, he started giving me a few choice words. I said something back about something I’d done to a maternal relative of his.

I hadn’t done that thing. Of course I hadn’t. But I very soon wished I hadn’t even pretended to do that thing, because it went down really badly. I’d stirred the beast within, and the beast wanted revenge.

One of their back-rowers came over to me as Ox was giving me the evil eye. ‘Joe mate, I know you like a bit of sledging, but mum chat doesn’t go down well, particularly with Ox,’ he said.

They were kind words of advice but entirely unnecessary. You could have been in the car park and still spotted the form of revenge he wanted to take on me.

A few months later we played the Stormers. After the match we got delayed at Cape Town airport, and decided to have a few beers. The Sharks were travelling back themselves. Some of our South African contingent got invited. I went over with them. I’d forgotten.

Then I spotted Ox at the opposite end of the table. No words. Just eyeballs. Relentless, non-stop eyeballs.

I decided I had to do something about it. So I took a deep breath, walked over and held my hand out. ‘Look mate,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry. I do these things because I’m not as good at rugby as you, so I try to find other ways to compete.’

What a gent. We shook hands, we bought each other beers, we became quite intoxicated in each other’s company. And I will never say those things about a Springbok front row’s mother ever again.

They love it, the Springboks and the scrum. Their entire rugby DNA is built around it. Sure, they’ve added a little more nuance to their gameplan now, and they’ll attack with width when they never used to and they’ll offload, but it always comes back to the scrum and the power game.

And it can, because none of us can remember the last time they produced an average front row. Their first choice is world-class. Their second choice is world-class. Their third choice would walk into any other international team.

I played with Wilco Louw at Harlequins a few years back. He was one of the best tightheads I’ve ever played with or against. And he can’t even get within a sniff of the Boks squad. It’s madness.

We all like to think we bring intensity on the rugby field. You take pride in your energy and your passion. Then you meet South Africa, and it’s like your first day in primary school after kindergarten.

Much as it broke my heart, I loved the documentary about their path to victory in the 2019 Rugby World Cup, Chasing the Sun.

There’s a clip where Bongi, Ox and Vincent Koch talk dismissively about the ‘plastic energy’ of England. The gist of it is this: you can shout and scream all you like about winning a knock-on, but now you’ve got to scrum against us. Still feel like celebrating?

I’ll be honest: I secretly love that mindset. If England, as a nation of forwards, could tap into even a smallest amount of that aggression and fight and arrogance, I’d be in heaven.

Because it’s not just the front row. It’s the giants in the second row. It’s the brutes at the back. You play long enough against the best and you understand the collective strength of a pack like that.

RG Snyman, their massive second row, has a tattoo that says Bomb Squad with a logo that looks too much like the Pringles Man. I like it. I like the concept but the font could have been better. I would have gone with a character from the old Sega Mega Drive game Bomberman.

I feel an affinity to the place. Part of my family when I was growing up lived over there. My dad went out to the 1995 World Cup, and I learned young what a braai is.

I got obsessed with the singing group Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and when their founder Joseph Shabalala died four years ago I was devastated.

So I wouldn’t want to be South African, but I would love to be part of their pack. Imagine being part of a team that is literally built to scrummage. Imagine being part of an eight that don’t care about ball in hand, that actually don’t want to be anywhere neat the ball unless they’re steamrollering over it in a scrum. That sort of stuff gets into your soul.

England will have to be right on the money at Twickenham to make a difference. If I was in camp this week I’d be asking Steve Borthwick if we could scrum Monday and spend the whole of Tuesday on maul and brawl.

You have Wednesday off. Fine. Thursday it’s forget the science and the ignore the GPS data and crack on with the old-school: mauling, brawling, scrummaging.

I know the counter-argument. We need to stay fresh for game day. Nah. The number one pack in the world are coming to our patch, and they’re coming for a bar brawl. Let’s get the mindset right and take it dark and deep.

And here’s the reward: when you get it right against the Boks, and you get on top of them, the entire psychology of the contest shifts. Now there’s confidence flowing through you into the backs. Suddenly they’re looking confused.

They’re so used to their power game working that when Plan A stalls it takes them a while to adjust. And while they do have a Plan B, it’s not as good. It’s not part of their DNA. It’s no longer their soul.

Even now I’m no longer playing, I’m getting butterflies at the mere thought of the South African scrum. I hope our boys get this one right.

Don’t let the fear win. Be brave. Make it a beautiful thing.

MY FIVE MOST FEARSOME OPPONENTS

Will Skelton, Australia – the biggest human I’ve come up against. When he’s fit and on form, he’s literally unplayable!

Vincent Debaty, France – scrum destroyer! Also scored my favourite ever international try in my favourite international test vs France in Six Nations 2015.

Eben Etzebeth, South Africa – made our debuts on the same day, and he has been the Springboks’ new age enforcer ever since. How many times a week does he train biceps?!

Bismarck du Plessis, South Africa – horrible, abrasive, old-school South African. Even had fights with his own team mates!

Peter O’Mahony, Ireland – never knows when to quit. Gobshite as well. Proper Irish warrior.