There was something almost heroic about them.

The tide of change was not so much lapping at their ankles as swirling around their necks, but in the early months of 1995, rugby's champions of true-blue Corinthian values were still claiming that the sport could not, should not and would not ever turn professional.

Granted, there was something rather less noble about them later that year when, in the aftermath of the International Rugby Board's decision to end a century-old tradition of amateurism, those self-same guardians of the old ways promptly claimed that they were just the fellows to run the professional game they had so vigorously opposed a few months earlier. But let's set that one to the side for one moment.

Instead, let's examine one central claim of those who set their thread-veined faces against the advent of pay-for-play. In short, the old-school blazerati said that professionalism would soon be the ruin of rugby asit would shorten the competitive lives of top players. The poor dears would be burnt out in the space of a few seasons, physically and mentally spent by the demands of rugby as a full-time job.

Given rugby's increasing physicality and growing competitive intensity at the time, it was, on the face of it, a persuasive argument. Yet, like every other argument put forward by the old guard, it was motivated more by the urge to protect the privileges of officials than the welfare of players. As with the rest of their arguments, the passage of time has shown it to be complete cobblers.

For as rugby's 18th season as a professional sport draws to an end, and with the game more popular than ever, even the most cursory survey of the scene today makes it unequivocally clear that playing careers have actually been lengthened, not shortened, by the fact that players can now live their lives as full-time professional athletes, not part-time amateur enthusiasts.

Thirty years ago, it was almost commonplace for players to retire from the game before they turned 30. A pastime that had been a bit of a jape to the 20-year-old student became far harder to justify with a family to support and a career to develop. But when rugby is the career, and its rewards provide the support, then carrying on makes a lot more sense than giving up.

Evidence? Everywhere. A couple of weeks ago, Warren Gatland named a Lions squad to tour Australia which included six players aged 30 or older. Brian O'Driscoll, the 34-year-old Ireland centre, is the most senior citizen in the party, not just in terms of age but also because this will be his fourth Lions outing. Stuart Hogg, the 20-year-old Glasgow full-back who is the youngest member of the squad, can rest assured that there are plenty of candidates to read him his bedtime stories.

Yet, the 2013 Lions squad is almost improbably fresh-faced by current standards. The party Clive Woodward led to New Zealand in 2005 was stuffed with 30-somethings, most of them veterans – in every sense – of Woodward's time in charge of England.

Four years later, in South Africa, the single most outstanding performance by a Lion was delivered by Simon Shaw, the England lock, in the second Test in Pretoria. Shaw had been a Lions tourist in South Africa 12 years earlier, but had not made the Test side. His debut, then, at the age of 35, was an emotional affair. A few of us who were covering that tour rather liked the idea of giving him a Most Promising Newcomer award at the end of it.

A glorious swansong? Eh, not exactly. A couple of years later, Shaw was in England's squad for the World Cup, making three appearances to bring his cap count to 71. At the end of that tournament, he moved to Toulon, and he is still on the books of the Provencal club which will take on Clermont Auvergne in an all-French Heineken Cup final in Dublin on Saturday.

Shaw, now 39, is unlikely to be in the Toulon squad at the Aviva Stadium, but he recently revealed that he has had offers to carry on playing at other clubs, so he is clearly still held in high regard. Even if he is not in the Toulon side, they will not want for old heads. In their semi-final against Saracens, the Toulon front row was made up of props Andy Sheridan and Carl Hayman, both 33, and the 38-year-old hooker Sebastien Bruno: a combined age of 104.

In which context, Nathan Hines, the former Scotland lock who is now a stalwart at Clermont, will feel like a spring chicken at just 36. Hines has been making jokes about his age for years, but he keeps putting in the shifts, a cult figure at one of the top clubs in Europe. Recently, his contract was extended for another year.

I caught up with Hines a few days ago and asked him about his longevity. After the usual cracks about staying in bed for three days after a game, he offered a fascinating insight into how he keeps going.

"I don't think the battle as you get older is to do extra, it's just to keep fit enough to do as much as everyone else," he said. Hines went on to explain that he might sit out training more often nowadays, but that he knew himself well enough to be the judge of what he should and should not do.

The mischievous grin will never leave his face, but there's a wise old owl in there now. Far wiser, certainly, than some of those who were running this game almost two decades ago.