My grandmother used to tell me stories about the old days - the time of peace, when the ultimate coach kept balance between Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England - but that all changed when the Welshmen attacked. Only the ultimate coach, master of all the teams - only he could stop the ruthless Welsh, but when the world needed him most, he vanished. A hundred years have passed and the dragons are nearing victory in the war. Two years ago, our captain and the men of our team journeyed to Scotland to help fight against Wales, leaving Italy and France to look after our tribe. Some people believe that the ultimate coach was never reborn into the English rugby union, and that the cycle is broken - but I haven't lost hope. I still believe that somehow, that coach will save the world.