Any man who wishes to have a go at Sir Bludi Clive Woodward gets my vote
Always rated, Roger Uttley OBE - fine man, unusual running style (or was that Ripley?), but a fine, fine man. Shrewd intellect and perceptive with it. Anyone who knows me (and trust me, they'll be queuing up to deny it) will groan at the sight and sound of my slipping one foot into the stirrup of my crusading high horse. Y'see, when the Lions tour finished in the blood-pressure-raising pile of Horlicks that it did, I went on the rampage. Oh! how I hated THAT man Woodward. Loathed him. Called him a liar, a joke a... well, exactly what this urbane, consummately araldite (sic) man, Uttley has said in his article. Good on him, I say, good on him. It got so bad (the anti-Woodward ranting thing) that my friend Ti told me to 'Let it go, baby, its over.' Why?? I like holding it!?
Closer to home, Ben 'Summer' Breeze has hinted that playing for the Dragons hasn't been all a bed of chocolate sandwiches, roses and skittles, either. He has found that change-after-change is tiresome and disruptive; if only he could make educational policy makers see that..."We (the players and coaches) have established a good understanding of our basic game. Our dilemma is balancing territory with possession and patterns with spontaneity." Or, as I put it here previously, they are boring.
Do you know that the future coach of the Scarlets had a horticultural nick-name? Tulip. Why, I wonder? Not frequently, you understand, but enough to annoy myself. (If you know, do tell by posting a comment, yes?) 
Anyway, when Tulip was playing in '95, in Paris, he was soooooooooo offside that lazy runner as a phrase makes him sound positively frantic. Rumbling back toward his own line, Big Phil Davies took the ball off the blue-shirted fly half's finger tips, turned, paused not one jot and belted the ball as far downfield as he could. My mate Pips was sat on his own in amongst the French who went beserk. They went even more beserk when Pips stood up and, very Gallic-ly for a Gog, shrugged with a grin the size of the Mawddach Estuary. Brilliant.
Right, I've let others do the writing for me here, with all these links. I had better get back to trying to figure out where the hell those maths books have disappeared to... wish me luck, mon braves.