six. At the end of a tournament meant to be a celebration of the game, I was depressed at the sight of the sport edging inexorably closer to a hybrid version of American football and Rugby League.

I spent the next two weeks on a small island in the Atlantic watching a tournament that embodied all the richness and verve of the game I used to know and love.

The World Rugby Classic in Bermuda produced contests full of running, counter attack and exploitation of space. It was, of course, a trip down memory lane in more senses than one. The players, all aged over 33, were ex-internationals of a different era and a cynic might suggest that rugby, employing a bunch of old men, played merely for fun, was bound to be more exciting.

Argentina and Canada beat The Lions and New Zealand in the semi-finals in thrilling matches. Anybody who doubted the attitude of the players had only to watch Wayne Shelford and the rest ruck the ball in a frantic last 20 minutes as the Kiwis tried to claw back a five point deficit. Any doubters of defensive attitudes winced at the tackling of the teak-tough Canucks.

The reasons for this outstanding spectacle are not hard to find. The RWC used the merit based system for the selection of referees. The Classic, a more old-fashioned system ... nepotism. The former gave us Stewart Dickinson and 37 penalties a match. The latter, Irishman Paddy Tynan and a final of 10 penalties that produced a game of ebb and flow. Of the four referees on view in Bermuda, two were Irish, Tynan and Gordon Black. The organisers do not give a second invitation to referees who cannot relate to the game. No doubt, Mrs.

Black and Mrs Tynan, eager to return to surf, sea and sand, gave their men clear instructions.

I spoke to some of the legends of rugby who played in the tournament. Jonathan Davies was certain that more forwards must be committed to the breakdown. He got his answer in Bermuda. A liberal interpretation of the tackle law ensured the contest for possession. The result was that more players were required to join the ruck and suddenly space appeared on the scene.

Interestingly, Shelford is convinced that one does not have to be fitter to play the modern game. He pointed out that if there are more than 30 penalties in a game and a third of those are kicks at goal, then 25 percent of game time is taken up by stoppages. Tynan's handling of the final produced almost nonstop rugby, scrums and lineout apart.

Shelford was not upbeat on the sport in New Zealand. The rise of Super 12 teams, which are franchises, has devastated the national provincial competition. Provincial games, which used to attract crowds of 20,000, now average 4,000 or 5,000. The European cup and a proposed British League may yet have the same effect on the Irish game.

He was also deeply concerned about underage rugby in his country. New Zealand has the largest population of Polynesians. The result is that boys of Maori or European extraction are leaving the game. Perhaps the All Blacks' inability to win the World Cup since 1987 is not so surprising after all.

All the players I spoke to in Bermuda were convinced that the game has no place for small people. Young men of lesser stature are turning to other sports. Jonathan Davies told me that Ryan Giggs is a bigger hero in the valleys than any rugby player. Players of every nationality spoke of a sport dying at the grass roots in their country. Away from Bermuda, Phil Kearns was telling Australian audiences that the game in Ireland was "dying on its feet and nobody was doing anything about it.'' Willie John McBride, an ardent opponent of professionalism in club rugby, saw money as the root of all evil. He pointed out the disparity in the number of contracted players in Ireland and Australia. The world champions have less than the great under achievers of the World Cup.

Interestingly, Shelford, Davies and Andy Haden are convinced that professionalism, with its greater demands on players' time and physiques, is a game for young men. The drop in the average age is stripping the game of experienced leadership. The three veterans were appalled at the lack of leadership in the All Blacks against France. Obviously none of them saw Ireland in Lens.

The comparisons between the Bermuda event and the Senior Golf Tour are interesting. Initially the golf tournaments were largely peopled by nonentities, but with the arrival of Lee Trevino and others, audiences soared to be entertained by players of character and personality. David Duval and his colourless compatriots could not compete in the personality stakes. Thus the World Rugby Classic had prospered because spectators and sponsors were eager not just to watch once-great players perform, but to interact with them at post-match parties, golf tournaments and the like. The genuine regard for each other exhibited by players of the four home nations in the Lions team was a joy to behold. Sadly, three-month 33-game tours are no more.

Many of the players in Bermuda had travelled throughout the home nations during the World Cup. Nowhere, except in Wales, did they see or feel the carnival atmosphere of excitement that was part of major rugby events of yore.

They were astonished at scheduling games like Scotland and Spain for prime time viewing while obvious classics like Wales and Samoa were relegated to off-peak slots. They were also at a loss to understand how the bulk of the 23 days of competition were blank playing days.

The game of Rugby Union is in crisis around the globe. Despite the upbeat statement issued by the International Rugby Board, the television game is about a circus of highly paid performers who are divorced from the bulk of the people involved in the game. The grass roots supporters and activities are increasingly alienated from a great sporting endeavour.

Billy Lavery, Eddie Coleman, Tommy Kiernan and Syd Millar know what the game used to mean. They must retain that ethos in this country and fight to change the minds of those at IRB level who think this is a sport best left in the hands of Mark McCormack and others. A visit to Bermuda next November might be a first step in the right direction.