Something was not right. A second glance at the musicians confirmed the rogue feeling.

They were all wearing identical shirts, across the front of which was emblazoned that rebel war cry of youth . . . "Bank Of Ireland". Rock 'n roll Babylon, wherefore art thou?

That frightening memory came back to me this week when news filtered through that the redeveloped Thomond Park in Limerick will be up for sale. The Munster branch of the IRFU is examining the option of selling the old lady's soul in a deal with mammon. If the price is right, the hallowed ground . . . famed throughout the world . . . will be renamed after whatever corporation stumps up the bobs.

Henceforth, the Thomond Roar may well become the Intel Shout, or perhaps the Guinness Bellow, or maybe even the NTL Scream. If the sentiment is followed through in the stands, the Munster fans will no longer issue around the ground a low, menacing growl of "heave, heave". Instead, they will urge encouragement with the more appropriate bellow of:

"add value going forward, add value going forward".

From here on in, when the concept of risk is debated in the fabled ground, it will not concern the merits of taking the three points from a penalty or chancing a drive to the line for a try. It will revolve around whether there is a gap in the market to be exploited by a new product.

Business is taking over.

Where once it was a means to an end, now it appears to have purchase on all ends of society. The colonisation of sport and culture in this manner has been going on for some time, but the predicted demise of Thomond should be acknowledged. Is anybody going to shout stop? Does everything have a price?

It won't be the first sports ground in the country to be thus raped. Up in Cavan, they are accustomed to the county playing in Kingspan Breffni Park. With all due respects to the fine folk of Cavan, it must be acknowledged that it is some decades since Breffni served up dreams and romance. The ghosts of championship giants may sulk in the shadow of the posts in Breffni, but the living can't claim that business has robbed them of a vital cathedral. Thomond is different.

Where next?

Will Dr Croke be consigned to the gods on the upper tier of the stand formerly known as Cusack to watch the Guinness All Ireland Hurling Championship at British Telecom Park?

What about Michael Cusack himself, paragon of the Gaelic League and the basis for a character in Ulysses? What purpose does his memory serve when yearon-year profits are expected to remain strong in the medium term? Take a hike, Mike, you never did anything for shareholder value.

Watch as he is shown the door to make way for the Michael O'Leary Stand where your dreams can be observed from a bucket seat available for 1 excluding taxes and charges.

The chill wind has blown this way from the States, where it was long ago observed by US president Calvin Coolridge that the business of America is business. Sport has been completely colonised over there, but a nadir was reached in culture a while back when Bob Dylan teamed up with Starbucks to flog an album.

This from a man who in the '70s penned the song 'One More Cup of Coffee' in which "your daddy is an outlaw, and a wanderer by trade, he'll teach you how to pick and choose, and how to throw a blade". Who's your daddy now, Bob? He wears a loud shirt, takes one more hit of espresso, as he keeps costs low, and launches a bid for Esso.

So it goes. The relentless march of business to the heart of a nation's spirit waits on nobody. Farewell, Thomond, it was nice to know you. Look away now, Dev, it would never have been allowed to happen if you were still running the show.