THE biggest surprise about Stuart Lancaster’s departure from his position as England head coach is that it came 39 days after his side crashed out of the World Cup following a chastening defeat to Australia.

From the moment England became the first host nation in World Cup history to fail to make it beyond the competition’s group stage, Lancaster’s fate was sealed. Results should not be the sole determinant of a coach’s performance, but when failure is so catastrophic, retaining the status quo cannot be an option.

That is not to say, however, that Lancaster is the only person to blame for England’s World Cup debacle. The RFU officials that appointed him in the first place are equally culpable – particularly hapless chief executive Ian Ritchie, who appears to regard himself as bullet-proof – and the governing body’s refusal to budge on the issue of selecting overseas players, which denied Lancaster the chance to select back-row forward Steffon Armitage and full-back Nick Abendanon, was a key factor in England’s failings.

Lancaster can also cite injuries and suspensions to key players such as Manu Tualigi and Dylan Hartley as a major handicap he was forced to overcome.

Ultimately, though, England’s World Cup failure was due, in large part, to Lancaster’s selection errors and the dramatic tactical wobble that saw him rip up months of planning and development in order to field a damagingly conservative starting line-up in the crucial pool game against Wales.

In dropping George Ford for Owen Farrell and selecting Sam Burgess to replace the injured Jonathan Joseph, Lancaster completely transformed the way he wanted his England team to play.

Former England international Stuart Barnes has described the decision as “the biggest selectorial cock-up” he has seen, and by attempting to replicate Wales’ physical, hard-running style, Lancaster ostracised some of the key attacking players in his squad and set off down a path that was always going to end in ruin.

Having gradually nurtured a more expansive style with Ford pulling the strings at number ten, Lancaster ripped up his attacking template and reverted to a much more cautious type at the key moment of his reign.

While the World Cup’s most successful teams, especially those from the Southern Hemisphere, were developing a high-risk attacking game that prioritised width, offloading in contact and a dominance of the breakdown, England were trying to play a style of rugby that belongs in the Dark Ages.

It didn’t work against Wales, and was even more redundant as England were ripped apart by Australia seven days later. By trying to limit the potential for damage, Lancaster ensured his own team were impotent.

The good things he achieved should not be forgotten – a restoration of pride in the England shirt, a code of conduct that impressed the Twickenham faithful, a thrilling home win over the All Blacks and 16 wins from 20 in the Six Nations – but they were always going to count for little when posited against a home World Cup.

That was always going to be the acid test of Lancaster’s reign, and sadly it was where he was found wanting.