IF Orwell was right that sport is "war minus the shooting", the mystery is why no team anywhere has yet considered the possibility of wearing camouflage, writes FRANK McNALLY
Maybe, unlike me, you think Orwell was exaggerating. Well, consider the evidence from last Tuesday's game between Munster and the All Blacks. For starters, a rugby ball was flown into Thomond Park by Army helicopter. The home fans then serenaded their team with the anthem Stand Up and Fight.
Immediately before the kick-off, opposing players faced each other in a war dance. And in the decisive, dying minutes of the game - experts agreed - New Zealand only won by bringing on their "big guns". I rest my case.
Nobody could question the Munster men's courage. And of course their win record in recent years, even without camouflage, is impressive. But could it be that their ultimate defeat on Tuesday night resulted from sticking to the usual team strip, especially those bright red jerseys that the All Blacks could spot a mile off?
Armies, too, used to prefer bright-coloured uniforms; indeed, red was a particular favourite. Commanders thought it encouraged corps unity. It was good for morale as well, partly because a smart, colourful military jacket looked good and was popular with women.
Even in the late 19th century, the idea of armies using camouflage was still frowned upon as unmanly. Soldiers were supposed to - yes - stand up and fight; and where necessary, to be slaughtered fair and square.
The Impressionist art movement may have prompted the rethink about military colour schemes. Certainly, some of those Cezanne landscapes look like the patterns you would use to disguise a tank. But an American painter called Abbott Handerson Thayer, who in the 1890s made groundbreaking studies of how animals blend with landscapes, was definitely a big influence.
Gertrude Stein recalled Picasso's epiphany when, strolling together in Paris during the winter of 1914, they saw for the first time a large army cannon, painted for camouflage purposes. The famous artist was stunned to witness his own handiwork. " C'est nous qui avons fait ça," he said.
Military disguise has moved on a lot since 1914. I only realised how much when reading this week about a row between Finland and Russia over Finnish suspicion that Russians misappropriated one of their trademark camouflage patterns during the conflict with Georgia.
The product in question is called "M/05". And according to the International Herald Tribune, it took Finland years to create, using "tens of thousands of digital photographs of Finnish forests". Russia has dismissed the plagiarism accusations, saying it has a hundred camouflages of its own and doesn't need to steal anyone else's.
But Finland's defence ministry claims the colours and shapes used are the same as M/05, and only the cut of the uniforms is different. A military spokesman noted that the soldiers involved were from the Russian "Interior Ministry", but added that if such troops ever invaded Finland, "We would have big trouble." You may, following Orwell, recognise a sporting subtext here. "M/05" is the Finnish army's "home" strip, for defensive use in the country's forests. So long as Russia uses it only at home too, there will be no clash. The obvious concern, however, is that the Russians might be planning an "away" fixture at some point.
(In passing, I have to mention here that another US artist involved in the development of modern camouflage was also a prize specimen for this column's series on aptronyms. His name was "George de Forest Brush". I swear.) But back to rugby, and my theory that military techniques could be used to make, say, Ronan O'Gara invisible; or at least to confuse the opposition about the exact shape of his outline long enough for him to avoid being creased before he gets the ball away.
The idea is not all that radical. Rugby jersey designers have already made their products skin-tight, to deprive opposition hands from easy purchase. Why not take evasive tactics to the next level? It's too late for today's game against Argentina. Indeed, it's too late to save the reputation of Croke Park - which, ever since it started hosting international sports, has lost the aura it once had as a venue where you could never beat the Irish.
Here is my suggestion, however. As soon as games start in the new Lansdowne Road, the IRFU should pay a fat consultancy fee to some suitable person (cough, cough) who would oversee the taking of tens of thousands of digital photographs of the new stadium and its fans, from pitch level, in all weather and light conditions.
A composite of these would then form the template for new Irish team strips designed to disorientate the opposition.
We have a head start already, being one of the few countries that wear green, the same colour as the grass games are played on everywhere. People might not even notice it at first (if fact, that would be the whole point) when we introduced splotches of muddy brown on the jerseys; or murky grey; or bits of orange to merge with flags in the crowd. By the time they did, we'd be years ahead of them.
The rugby team's back coaches could simultaneously work on new running lines to maximise stadium blind spots. Soon, opposition teams wouldn't see us coming until it was too late. Maybe then, at last, not even their big guns could save them.