Alex Goode feels the sense of separation most intensely during the anthems. His coping mechanism is to avoid Twickenham on match days and, even at home in north London, to delay watching England play on television until God Save the Queen is over: “People ask me why I don’t watch the games at the stadium. They’re quite surprised when I say I’d rather not be there. For me, hearing the national anthem as a player is the best thing in the world. I’m desperate to be out there but I can’t be. That’s hard to take.”

Such is life on the edges of top-level sport, cropped out of the celebratory pictures as the team keeps winning without you. In Goode’s case the angst has been compounded: a week after being unceremoniously dropped from Eddie Jones’s unbeaten England squad in late December, he tore ankle ligaments against Exeter and has not played since. Last season’s Premiership player of the year remains among the smartest creators of space in Europe, but the fates can be fickle. Those who reckon professional players enjoy the life of Riley do not always see the out‑of‑favour athlete hunched in a chair in a small room in St Albans.

Until now, the 28-year-old has politely turned down requests to discuss his England omission, having previously served as an ever-present squad member for more than five years. He wants his place back badly, does not wish to be perceived as bitter and twisted, and hopes England keep prospering. For all that, he wonders if outsiders appreciate the torture of Test rejection, particularly for those squad members released on the Tuesday before a major international: “You’re angry, you’re pissed off, the last thing you want to be doing is sitting in the M25 traffic going home. You get home, you’re sore and knackered and just in a bad place. You have a very frustrating evening and offer nothing to your family. When you’ve had that carrot, it’s been so close and then it’s taken away, it hits you.”

Over a prolonged period of time, in Goode’s experience, it can drive even the sanest player mad. “Sometimes you know from the minute you turn up you’re not going to be involved. As you get older it gets harder. When they give you the bibs and say: ‘Don’t read anything into it,’ it’s like a running joke. Eddie keeps people on their toes, which is good, but everyone knows that if the team is playing well there’s unlikely to be a change. You have to get your head around that.”

Those who mistakenly regard the spiky Mike Brown, his long-time rival, as innately more competitive may just care to reconsider. Brown, 31, has played in all but one of England’s 16 Tests under Jones; Goode has been on the field for 91 minutes and made three Test starts in the past two years. Jones has spoken this season about Elliot Daly, Anthony Watson and even Sale’s Mike Haley offering the extra pace he craves at No15, but has seldom talked up Goode.

It leaves the Saracen at a career junction. Does he retreat back to club duty and settle for a life more ordinary? Sign a big-money deal with a French club, as his team-mates David Strettle and Chris Ashton have chosen to do? Or maintain a stiff upper lip and prove the naysayers wrong? Goode’s response is instant: he loves playing for Saracens, has no huge desire to subject his family to a new life across the Channel and intends to keep striving for an England recall.

A part of him wonders if, perversely, his current unbooked sabbatical might ultimately help: “Perhaps for the past year I’d been trying too hard to impress Eddie,” he says. “I don’t worry about playing against rival opposition full‑backs, but I do worry about getting into the team. Constantly trying to please someone can sometimes lead you to burn out.

“Without trying to sound like I’m playing the violins it’s incredibly tough when you constantly get knockbacks and rejections. After a while all that emotion can drag people down. Professional sport is tough. So is life. But you also have to think of the people going through the journey with you. Your girlfriend, your family, they’re sitting there waiting to know if you’re in or not. It’s tough for them to pick up the pieces.”

By now it should be obvious why Saracens regard the unselfish Goode so highly. His mother, Sarah, established charities in Malawi to assist the less fortunate and, while the details cannot yet be revealed, he is pursuing some interesting off-field projects of his own. It is almost a footnote to suggest he might be the best Test fly-half England never had. Coincidentally it was the self-same Eddie Jones who first invited him to play at 15 because Saracens had more options at 10.

“When Mark McCall and Brendan Venter first came in they thought I was more of a 10. I did as well.” Does he ever regret the switch? “If I pick a pair of curtains at home, even if the colour looks average, you think: ‘Well, they’re there now, I’ll move on,’” he responds wryly. “You can’t take something back. I’ve loved every minute of being a full-back. Who knows whether I would even have played for England as a fly-half? Different coaches have different thoughts about different players and that’ll always be the case.”

The one thing Goode would have done, with hindsight, is been more assertive in his early national squad days. He will forever reject the charge, though, that he is too slow or a 90kg lightweight – “If you speak to our conditioners my speed and leg power have improved” – and remains a staunch advocate of brain over brawn. “Some of the world’s best players who we revere are not big. Look at Dan Carter, Richie McCaw and Brian O’Driscoll. Could any of them lift over 100kg in a bench press? Richie McCaw, from all accounts, was horrific in the gym, but through body angles, intelligence and fitness he was an amazing player. Game understanding will always be the most important thing.”

All things being well, Goode will be back underlining that truth this month. “Eddie says the door’s open. I know if I play unbelievably well there is a chance. I do believe that. There have been other guys who have come back after previously being written off. I’m not over the hill yet.”

But how will it feel to follow the Six Nations climax from afar? “I desperately want England to win. I’m not someone who’s sitting there bitterly hoping someone gets injured. When people jokingly ask: ‘Do you want me to hurt Mike Brown?’ I say: ‘No, I want to be there because I deserve to be.’ People may say it’s delusional, but, once I’m over this injury, I believe I will hit the ground running and show people why I should be involved. If I keep knocking on the door, I honestly believe I’ll get a chance. But, ultimately, it comes down to a decision that’s not mine to make.”

When Twickenham’s anthem singer, Laura Wright, approaches her microphone next week, spare a thought for absent friends.