Life as a retired rugby god wouldn’t be THAT great – travelling the world, watching rugby, being worshipped wherever your adventures take you ... Um, on second thoughts ...

rwc (ILLUSTRATION BY CHRISTOPHER NIELSEN)

I am sitting in a studio at Fox Sports’ Sydney HQ, among dozens of other journo and advertising types, waiting for the media launch of the broadcaster’s Rugby World Cup coverage to begin. I chose my seat on arrival without much forethought – just somewhere convenient to plant my work bag and coat so I could work hands-free availing myself of the tempting trays of yummy little baby bacon and egg rolls going around (it’s a breakfast, and they are awesome); and also for its proximity to the catering table with its mini bowls of baked beans with sausage and even strawberries and cream (the RWC IS in England, if you couldn’t guess already). As I rather greedily mow down several of those little delicious B&E burgers, I see around the room that there is a smattering of suited rugby “legends” here – John Eales, Tim Horan, George Gregan, Rod Kafer – who are meeting and greeting various heavyweights.

They somehow command the venue. They emit radiant auras of rugby magnificence.

But then the room is asked by the MC to find a seat, and this cavalcade of champs, this retinue of rugger royalty, all expert commentators for the forthcoming coverage, starts walking directly towards a still-munching ME. And take their seats directly in front of ME. They are just inches away.

I can hear them breathing. They wear immaculate suits, and I notice their faces prepped for the cameras. I wipe burger bits from my teeth with my napkin and study closely the backs of their heads while the show gets underway.

The MC welcomes everyone – then introduces this stellar company one-by-one by their name and illustrious playing record. And all eyes in the room turn towards ... US. With just a little imagination, it feels as if I have taken my place alongside them. For a few minutes, I am a legend.

I am not used to this kind of attention, and find myself sitting up straighter, correcting my usual slouch, and adjusting my facial expression the way Tom Hanks does at the Oscars when he knows the camera is on him – head slightly cocked to one side while my eyes are fixed with fake fascination at everything going on around us. But behind my eyes I am wondering how it must feel to have this sort of adulation focused on you every day of your life. And whether being a rugby legend would beat being a legend of any other sporting pursuit ...

Hmmm. Choose your legendary status. What would it look like?

These guys seem like the most successful, most highly regarded sportsmen in the world, now parlaying their careers into profitable and interesting lives beyond rugby, while travelling the world and still getting to watch heaps of rugby, and telling very funny stories they remember from their own playing careers. And being paid for it! Sounds perfect: the ideal career; post-playing career. Except, I think, for one small problem ...

What do these guys do on the weekend for fun and games? Do they actually play rugby anymore? Allow me to answer that question for you. No, they do not.

What does a surfer do when they retire? He or she goes surfing. Tennis players? Almost all continue to play tennis. Golfers? Every one of them plays golf until they turn up their toes. Why? Because these sports are so much fun. And they can! Their sports generally do not demand some kind of imperviousness to pain and discomfort while playing.

Ah, but not footballers. They’ve HAD their fun. It’s over, guys! And swimmers – not many love affairs with chlorine extending into even middle age to report there, let alone old age. Ditto for (most) track and field athletes. Certainly boxers.

Maybe rugby legend status doesn’t suit me after all ...

But then I remember the John Eales I met during an interview many moons ago. We played golf together – he hit it a mile. These days, he could probably play golf any day of the week. And he could probably afford to buy his own surf break in Indonesia if he cared to. Or play tennis on his own lawn tennis court. And, well, dammit ...

Legendary rugby status might not be too bad after all. Full stop. End of story.