The Stylist front cover changed perceptions, the naked photoshoot was part of a new movement, but a front rower that could play wing at sevens? Now that is something to talk about. Meet Vicky Fleetwood. Game changer.

At 5am, under the watchful eye of the duty master, a schoolboy Brad Barritt stood, statue-still, for a 40-minute uniform inspection. It was old school, in every sense. South African schools were tough, but his father, grandfather and great-grandfather were all Rhodesian internationals, so he was made of sterner stuff.

The leg cracked three times as the weight of the opposing forward sent Henry Slade in the opposite direction to his limb. It wasn’t going to be good. It hurt like hell, but he wasn’t going to have gas and air, not after what happened to Ben White.

This man could’ve been processing your driving licence. instead, he won grand slams, tamed the beast and has just finished the lego friends snow resort hot chocolate van – with a little help from Isla

Frontrower Vez has been targeted, victimised and bullied. He’s had blood spat in his mouth after a tackle; and had rugby ‘fans’ shout everything from, ‘get the fat bastard man off the pitch’ to ‘put her face in mud, let her drown’. And that’s before the endless stream of social media abuse. Vez has considered, ‘not being here’ many times. This is what can happen when you’re a transgender rugby player. And, he says, it needs to change.

Last summer, Alun Wyn Jones took on and defeated his home nations rivals to earn the right to face the greatest rugby side on the planet, the All Blacks, in their own backyard. This year, it’s Play-Doh, colouring-in, and a quarter of a caravan in west Wales. Alun Wyn Jones: Lion, Osprey, Welsh hero, is on holiday.

When eventually Danny Cipriani stopped. When his life stopped going from game to game, club to club, trophy to trophy. When he was on his own, on the other side of the world, for the first time ever, he was hit by depression. Questions about his life he’d never thought or had time to ask, began to emerge to darken his days. Even for the gifted, life isn’t always easy.

When Shaun Edwards first had the chance to coach England, he had no choice but to say no, he wasn’t ready. He spoke to his mum, Phyllis, and they agreed, it was too soon after his brother Billy had died. He needed the day-to-day of rugby to keep him busy. Rugby was what was going to keep him going – he wasn’t going to let his mind get the better of him.

Eyes streaming, face distorted, arms aching and head being forced downwards; the g-force pounds Heather Fisher as she hurtles at 80mph down the fastest and steepest bobsleigh track in the world. She’d learnt every turn, but her mind is blank. Like running through ‘windmills while in a tumble drier’, not even rugby is like this.

He was only supposed to be  ‘holding the fort’ while England scoured the world for their next coach, but Stuart Lancaster had other ideas. He had five matches to prove his worth and he rolled the dice for the first one, selecting eight uncapped players as he started his bid to change the face of English rugby.

In 1987, England hadn’t beaten Wales in Cardiff since 1963. The Welsh No.8 Phil Davies was determined that wasn’t going to change. At only the second lineout of the game, as he tussled with Jon Hall, a single punch from Wade Dooley took him down, shattering his cheekbone. His game lasted less than two minutes, but the Battle of Cardiff had begun.

James Haskell isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. He doesn’t deny it. His girlfriend Chloe doesn’t deny it either. In fact, she admits, she wanted to ‘punch him in the face’.

When Ian finally stepped onto the training field, Owen, only a few yards ahead, turned back to jokingly give him stick for being late. Before the words left his mouth, he saw his friend on one knee; then, a second later, collapsed onto the turf. He rushed to his side, but little did Owen know there was nothing he could do. Ian was gone.

The lift doors opened at the Hilton and Rala, the bag man, gagged and bound on a luggage trolley, was pushed out onto the ground floor packed with Irish fans – that was how Tommy Bowe and Ireland prepared for the biggest game in Irish history.

England were terrible. Two Wooden Spoons in four years, without a title since 1963, and dominated by Wales. But captain Bill Beaumont fancied their chances and began a quest that would take in a Grand Slam, a sports quiz show, world rugby’s governing body, and make him a knight of the realm.

Two Tests, two tries, against the All Blacks. Without even mentioning the 73 scores for London Irish, Topsy Ojo already has enough for a thousand after-dinner speeches. Alternatively, he could just hand the floor to Eden Ojo, now there’s a talker.

Steel worker, garage manager, mobile crane salesman, international, European Cup finalist, world’s first transfer fee rugby player (probably), American rugby galactico (almost), All Black beater (nearly), Don King victim, Cardiff legend, beer muse, and England’s longest-standing director of rugby – life has never been dull for Mike Rayer.

“I do struggle with cocky 19-year-olds. You want to say to them: ‘you got something special in your heels that makes you bounce around like that?’ Just calm down. Kyran Bracken was cocky, he thought he was fun. I didn’t take kindly to that.”