‘Sport without emotion is just business. You need that, otherwise you lose a bit of the magic’

Jones’ elevation to Wales captaincy a natural fit ‘A man you want to follow into battle,’ says Edwards

Alun Wyn Jones resembles a warrior from the Visigothic age, his face creased into a permanent scowl and what remains of his ears often held together with cloth. He is 31 but looks at least a decade older, an impression suggested not just by his receding hairline as by the scars of the 111 Test matches (105 for Wales and six for the Lions) that he has played with elemental intensity.

While he has just been anointed as Wales captain for this year’s Six Nations, his lineage takes him far from the Land of Our Fathers. A recent Welsh documentary used his DNA subtype to calculate that he was most likely a descendant of 11th-century Norman warlords. It seems a natural fit, given his reputation for approaching every match with a passion that verges on militaristic.

Jones could feasibly break Richie McCaw’s world record of 148 Test caps. His elevation to the captaincy for today’s opener against Italy in Rome feels little more than a technicality, such is the lock’s image as the most vociferous Welsh player on the park, hectoring and screaming at his teammates in the tight five through every inch they gain.

In the eyes of England head coach Eddie Jones, there could be no better candidate to lead the Lions in New Zealand this summer. The Australian loves the unhinged fury with which this gigantic second row, already acclaimed as the finest to represent Wales in this position, goes about his business.

Warren Gatland used to see it slightly differently, suggesting that Jones was “too emotional” to be given captain’s duties ahead of Sam Warburton. But Rob Howley, assuming Gatland’s mantle while the Kiwi takes charge of the Lions, is adamant that Jones’s almost terrifying perfectionism is precisely what Wales need as they pursue a third Six Nations title in six years.

Shaun Edwards, Howley’s lieutenant as defence coach – and another pugnacious character, if ever there was one – is all in favour. “Alun is a man you want to follow into battle,” he argued. “He’s one of the few players in our team who is guaranteed their place at the moment. He is an incredible athlete and he has a great rugby brain, too. Let’s be honest, that doesn’t happen very often.”

One who understands Jones’s psychological wiring is Luke Charteris, his fellow lock for this afternoon’s Test at the Stadio Olimpico. Together they have formed as redoubtable a second-row partnership as any in the tournament.

“I do the dog work, while Alun has the skills,” Charteris says. “He always sets the highest standards. I remember him applying them in the first training session. That’s just a part of his make-up, one of the reasons he has gone on to be great.”

He seldom relents away from the field, either. Justin Tipuric, the Wales flanker and a long-time contemporary at the Ospreys, is fond of describing how fiercely Jones will upbraid other players if they dare not to pick up a piece of litter or put away a coffee cup correctly. “Even if we go out for food, Al will be the one in control,” he says.

Jones (left), we can rest assured, will be the figure singing Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau the lustiest today, regardless of Gatland’s view that he is sometimes too emotional for his own good. For all that he might have been urged to assume a more dispassionate demeanour, he believes the fire and brimstone are integral to his personality.

“I was speaking to someone the other day who said, ‘Sport without emotion is just business’,” he reflects. “You need that, otherwise you might lose a bit of the magic.”

He is notorious for brooding. The rage over a loss can simmer for days, if not weeks. Any fellow player perceived to have capitulated faces instant excommunication. It is one of the rougher edges that Charteris, an even more gnarled veteran at 33, has tried to soften.

“More often than not, I’m having to calm Alun down and keep him cool,” he says. “He has learned to be a little cooler over the years, a little wiser.”

If there has been a fractional dimming of his ferocity, then it can all be explained by the arrival of his daughter, Mali. Remarkably, he insists that his most cherished memory of the last World Cup is not that Wales beat England at Twickenham but that his little girl was there to see her first game.

Could this be a sign that the old brute is mellowing? Not a bit of it. Jones is the team’s only surviving member of the 2007 defeat and has identified today’s return to the Eternal City as a potential “banana skin”. His utter refusal to slacken, even for a second, could be all the inspiration Wales need this winter.