Joe Marler spent his career turning the ultimate team sport into a one-man show

Lukewarm tributes to the retiring prop suggest that England may enjoy a permanent break from the country’s incorrigible rogue

As a study in burning the house down on your way out, Joe Marler’s exit from the Test arena was just about textbook. 
Eschewing any valedictory Twickenham appearance or guard of honour, England’s incorrigible rogue chose instead to impugn the All Blacks’ cherished haka, throw his team-mates into the fire, delete his social media presence, reinstate it, shake New Zealand head coach Scott Robertson’s hand, then resign, all in the space of a week. In the ultimate team sport, he found a way, even on the periphery, to be celebrated as a one-man show.
For all the sincerity of England’s tributes to mark his international retirement, there were not too many “Say it ain’t so, Joe” flourishes, or too many urgings for him to reconsider. In the aftermath of a bruising defeat, you could detect an air of exhaustion at days of Marler-induced mayhem. 
“He enjoys putting things on social media, so that was how it went,” said Jamie George, ruefully, at the diplomatic ruckus over Marler’s comments that the haka was “ridiculous” and needed to be “binned”. “I was very thankful to Joe for that. I told him that today.”
Likewise, you could read a little between the lines of Steve Borthwick’s appreciation of the “humour, sense of fun and energy that Joe brought to the squad”. A head coach who has placed a premium on scrupulously respecting opponents was not exactly brimful of gratitude for the psychological fillip that Marler had provided New Zealand, with their captain Scott Barrett admitting his jibes had “loaded the gun”. There comes a point, even with a court jester such as Marler, where the cost of his provocations outweighs the entertainment value – especially when he had left the England camp before the team was even announced.
Perhaps Marler is right when, in response to all the torture of mind and body, he declares: “I’m done.” The irony was that the manner of England’s loss to the All Blacks proved he could still be a valuable contributor, with the final-quarter travails of Fin Baxter, his replacement at loosehead, highlighting the need for his power and presence. Would Marler have conceded the two scrum penalties that allowed New Zealand close to England’s line for Mark Tele’a’s decisive late try? It seems unlikely.
You can never be quite sure, of course, if Marler will follow through on his words. He has stepped down from the Test stage before, arguing in 2018, when he was still just 28: “Now is the time to walk away and get some new blood in the team.” It was only Eddie Jones’s persuasion that restored him to the England fold, where he would earn another 36 caps. But this time it feels, in the light of Borthwick’s pivot towards youth in the front row, as if a more natural full stop – or exclamation mark, given the verbal grenades he lobbed from the sidelines during his final week as a player – has been reached.
It was a wonder that he made his Test career last so long. While nobody could dispute his talent, Marler often performed close to the ragged edge, so unsure about whether he belonged that he claimed his infamous Mohawk was simply his ruse to stand out among the private-school set. Later, these bizarre gestures would give way to unmistakable cries for help, as he sought psychological help for behaviour that he admitted could be “f—— poisonous”, telling his doctor that he had broken his fist by lashing out a door. In 2020, he laid bare the degree of his turmoil, recalling how he had considered taking his own life.
Marler has been searingly candid about his troubles in navigating jolting transitions in his life, acknowledging that he went through an identity crisis after England’s failure to win the 2019 World Cup. It is to be hoped, then, that he does not find this departure from representing his country too traumatic. One consolation is that there is a ready-made market for Marler’s brand of japery, with fellow former England forward James Haskell acclaiming him as a “black belt in being a pain in the a—.”
The pair seldom failed to wind each other up, once grappling on the ground at Wasps as Haskell accused Marler of spraying him in the face with water. It is a pantomime antagonism that they could easily transplant to the podcast studio: after all, Marler has already appeared in a condom advert and launched an OnlyFans account where subscribers can pay to look at pictures of his feet.
Harlequins fans will continue to cherish the image of a prop who had the words “Jolly Hog Sausage” carved out of his hair. With England, the chapter might be closed, but his reputation is secure as the man who always marched to the beat of his own drum.