Pride is restored and with Jonny we can dream...

That was four years ago, but it feels like an age. Back here in England we watched through parted fingers as our sport faced its greatest humiliation since the nation's footballers lost to the USA in 1950.

More than Andy: Farrell dives over the line against Tonga last night to record his first try in an England rugby union shirt

Yes, that big, though English cricket's collapse on the last day of the Adelaide Test last winter took some getting over.

England 36 Archipelago 20. Which is a relief, given that there are far more people in my personal vantage point, Brighton, than the 112,000 who call Tonga home.

"All the angels in heaven are supporting us," claimed the giants of Jonah Lomu's homeland. Certainly the neutrals and Australia were, as the non-English craved an upset at Twickenham's expense.

But there is just enough power left in England's arsenal and Jonny Wilkinson's left boot to have repaired some of the damage from two woeful performances against USA and South Africa.

In those early days of a disordered campaign, a quarter-final reprise with Australia seemed a distant fantasy. Now respectability has been restored as England shuffle through to Sven Goran Eriksson's old favourite jumping out point.

The second stoutest nation in the world, Tonga have grown in stature in France courtesy of wins over Samoa and the USA and a narrow five-point defeat by South Africa, who caned England 36-0 and left us with the abiding image of Ben Kay slicing a chip-kick into touch near the Springbok line.

But England's adversaries in the old cauldron of the Parc des Princes had won only two of their previous 13 World Cup outings prior to this tournament.

There could be no hiding behind the claim that Tonga had gone to bed one night a tiddler and woken as a superpower.

The truth is that institutionalised chaos had brought English rugby so low that they faced going down in history as arguably the worst defending champions in any major sport. Ever.

Taking the four Pool games, we now see that Brian Ashton's men went to France with an outside chance of hanging on to the Webb Ellis Cup with Wilkinson at No 10 and absolutely no hope of doing so without him.

The ignominious cave-in against the Springboks featured the doomsday combination of Mike Catt and Andy Farrell in the pivotal 10-12 positions. Not their fault.

Injuries, tactical confusion, selection U-turns: this England squad had seen it all. Only when Samoa were subdued in Nantes did an attacking pattern emerge: the result, we now know, of a major honesty session during a team meeting and the return of Wilkinson's metronomic boot.

Eighteen minutes in and Wilkinson is dumped en route to a Tongan try. The shires were rolling out the sackcloth. Moments later, though, the golden one launched a crossfield kick to Paul Sackey that was reminiscent of the Woodward era of clever diagonal bombardments.

Embarrassment either rips a team to shreds in tournaments or forces them to evolve.

Under fire England have found an inspired scrum half in Andy Gomarsall, a new assassin in Paul Sackey and a No 8, Nick Easter, who is growing into Lawrence Dallaglio's old job. Last night, Lewis Moody absorbed enough big hits to worry a boxing referee and deserves an award for valour for staying on after two concussion-inducing collisions.

But they needed more from Olly Barkley at inside centre and Mathew Tait outside, which is why Barkley gave way to Farrell after 50 minutes. Meanwhile, Josh Lewsey's kicking continues to infuriate.

Where is the rampaging Sandhurst golden boy of 2003? Tait finally delivered with a try and the dropped Phil Vickery re-emerged from purdah to reclaim his place at prop.

Finally, calm was setting in.

But the nerves still jangle at England's inability to control games for long stretches: their high error count, the sense that they invite inferior opponents back into games — give them opportunities that Clive Woodward's mob would never have been so charitable as to allow.

To Marseille, then, for the rematch with a country whose chief administrator says Australians 'hate' the English in all sports.

They hate the memory of Sydney 2003, that's for sure, because it took the Aussie boot off the Pom head, and opened a whole new vista of feelings to the swarming English. It's known as winning. But now the top dogs are underdogs, with a lot more improving to do.