By Sam Ryan Ah rock bottom, we meet again.  I thought we said goodbye in the nosebleeds of Groupama Stadium in Lyon, as I walked out with tears in my eyes while getting heckled by fat Welsh blokes.  But we’re here again a few weeks later.  We’ve “negotiated an exit” with a coach that hoodwinked us all after taking a half decent footy side and shattering them, both physically and mentally.  He did worse to Australian rugby fans.  When we returned, he didn’t even have enough respect for the Australian rugby community to front up for an official press conference at RA Headquarters. Instead, he dictated terms and spoke at Coogee Oval, where he felt comfortable.  He didn’t wear Wallabies’ colours either or stand anywhere near a media board, starving RA’s poor sponsors of more of the exposure they missed when his side bombed out in the pool stages for the first time ever.   I drunk the cool-aid and got it incredibly wrong. But really, we should