LAST Saturday evening at the Berkeley Court hotel, the amateur era officially ended in Irish rugby when the 26 members of the Ireland squad signed contracts. That event swept away 121 years of tradition and the amateur ethic, which was so vigorously defended for so long when deemed fund a mental to the well being and preservation of the game and its traditions.

Changed times, indeed. Time will be the judge as to whether so much that was so appealing in the union game will be sacrificed in the new era.

Wearing the Ireland jersey is no longer just about attaining a sporting distinction, no more is winning for Ireland just about pride and satisfaction. The bonus is not just about the acclamation that goes with victory, the reward is appearance money and a £1,000 win bonus.

The capacity crowd that will see Ireland play Scotland in the International Championship at the oldest international ground in the world, Lansdowne Road, next Saturday, will witness an historic occasion. Among that crowd will be hundreds of men who wore the Ireland jersey with pride. There will, too, be many who were never good enough to play for Ireland, but who gave a lifetime of service to the game because they loved it.

They have seen some of the cherished traditions they helped to fashion disappear, gone forever. To play for Ireland was not alone about personal honour and pride in a jersey, it was also about fundamental duty, inspired by the heart.

For old Irish internationals, and for those of us who shared in their great moments, there are many golden memories of wonderful times. Let us be grateful for them and to the men who inspired many a eulogy. Who will forget the incomparable Jack Kyle, tearing the French defence apart on that January day, 39 years ago, when every man, woman and child in the ground stood to acclaim the deeds of a sporting legend? He was then in the twilight of a magnificent career, the source of inspiration for Ireland's golden era a decade earlier.

Who can forget the artistry of Michael Gibson? Gibson, at his best, was as good as any player the game has known. Irish rugby has known many a lean period, but in every era it has produced great players and left us with great memories. Those of us of an older generation will remember the leadership qualities of a young medical doctor, Karl Mullen. In more recent times, we will not need reminding of a young army officer asking his troops for the last great rally. Ciaran Fitzgerald, bandage round his head, refusing to allow a Triple Crown to slip away on a golden afternoon in 1985. Pride was the spur and Michael Kiernan's drop goal, in the dying moments, the crowning glory.

Then there was Munster, in full cry, on that glorious October afternoon at Thomond Park in 1978 when the All Blacks were beaten for the first and only time on Irish soil. There was an afternoon of bright sunshine in far away Port Elizabeth, 22 years ago, when Willie John McBride was carried off the field in triumph after he had led the Lions to an historic Test series victory. The Springboks invincibility on their own soil was no more. Money was not required as a motivating factor for those men. They, too, had to earn their daily bread. They gave the time and effort required for one reason because they loved the game.

RUGBY started in the public schools and moved to the public parks. Its growth was gradual, especially in Ireland. Its roots in this country were sown in the universities, in some schools and in urban areas, with small pockets of interest in rural communities. Today, it plays a considerable part in the sporting and social lives of people in rural areas. It struggled for survival in some of those places, was banned as a `foreign' game in days that are happily gone.

Undoubtedly part of the charm and appeal of rugby was that what happened on the field of play was only part of the game. Lifelong friendships were made between men who had been vigorous opponents on it, bringing every element of strength and ingenuity into play in the pursuit of victory. Those friendships transcended national boundaries. The unbreakable bond was rugby football and a lifelong romance with it.

Irish rugby has often been criticised, and accused of snobbery, insularity and isolationism. I believe it has served Irish society well, and has made a major contribution to life in these islands. Irish rugby owes no apologies to anyone.

Irish rugby men want to win as much as anyone, but there has been a widely recognised ability to win and to lose with dignity. Successive touring teams have stated that their visits to Ireland have been the highlight of their tours to these islands. It has, too, very often been stated by the other four nations in the International Championship that "if we have to lose, we would rather it be to Ireland than any other country".

For many in Ireland the game has been a way of life, the love for it handed down from generation to generation. The number of fathers and sons and brothers who have played for this country present a telling statistic. The family connections are an integral part of the game in this country.

As we reflect on recent events it would serve us well to remember a famous quote about those who take much at the cost of those who have less "The bulls and the foxes live well. The lambs wind up head down from the hook."

Avoiding that scenario is the challenge rugby now faces. The game is about much more than signatures on the bottom of international squad membership contracts, in which the fine print is scrutinised by lawyers lest there be even a slight slip between the `25' and the back pocket.

The ideals on which rugby were based are no longer the game's currency. What has happened in rugby mirrors, in some respects, the expediency that prevails over principle in many aspects of life in this age.

As we face into a new challenging era, rugby at the top level is now a business, a commercial enterprise. The heroes of a by gone age, who will be at Lansdowne Road next Saturday have nonetheless the right to expect of those who have inherited the Ireland jersey to bear in mind that they are custodians of a proud heritage. That fraternity was fashioned by the deeds and attitude of successive generations and it is a fraternity that money can never buy, but one that it most certainly can destroy.