venerated soccer variety or those super-padded,over-paid, U.S. gridiron heroes and especially not that "throwyourself at the turf" game they call rugby. I'm talking realfooty here, the great Australian game which is without doubt thebest spectator sport in the world by a mile and a half.I shouldn't have read Buddha's biography I suppose. It has onlymade my thirst for footy and the Cats' brand of the great gamein particular, more intense. Though I was grateful when David(one of my five brothers living in Geelong, who I keep annoyingfor Cats replays) brought it over to me in Paris from "SleepyHollow," along with some videos of recent Cats games. Buddha wasa Cat champ I had admired for years and he himself had signedthe book, which made it special.While I was intent on watching the videos, our "free-loader"visitors wanted to get out and see the sights of Paris:themagnifi...

...cence of the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysees, grandestof all the worlds' Grand Avenues and Saint Chapel, whereglorious tall stained glass windows surround you. But hey, I hadmy priorities sorted out; I just wanted to settle down with abaguette, a bottle of French red and watch the footy. I needed to update my memory banks with a "footy fix." I neededto get to know the players again, catch up on all theexcitement, the skill and raw talent. Follow those super-fit anddedicated sportsmen, playing "Aussie Rules". But no, Wendy ,dedicated shopper and very dear sister-in-law that she is andDenise, my supposedly Aussie (but footy-apathetic) wife wantedto go shopping in Paris. Women! As someone once said, we sure dolove them, but who among the male species can ever understandthem?Denise and I had been living in Paris for almost two years, andwhile the experience had been fantastic and we were thoroughlyin love with the City of Light, enough is enough mate.The videos David brought over were a blessing. French cable TVcarries endless, absolutely dead boring, English cooking shows(ye olde BBC) plus a plethora of even more mind-numbing houseand garden decoration shows, news and...darn little else.CNN repeats the same old, same old, hour after hour and on liveFrench TV they speak their exquisite language at a zillion milesan hour and detest the English language with a passion. TheFrench would never understand the complexity of our footyanyway. My memories of growing up in Geelong with footy as the Welshfamily staple diet were triggered by Bhudda's writings. Like somany other Southern Australian kids, we played footy everychance we had. At school, for the local club, in the street andthe back lane, anywhere we could. Our six sisters often made thebackyard team as well - just, and only to make up the numbers,mind you.We lapped up all the footy culture we could and it will staywith us all our lives, no matter where we are. It is somethingthat resides in my bloodstream along with a fair dose ofBordeaux when we lived in Paris. Hey, it was France after all !I was at the "G" (the legendary Melbourne Cricket Ground) withdad and a hoard of other Welshes in '63 when the mighty Catsbeat Hawthorn. I was 12 years of age and I cried with sheer joy.I was also at the Cat's home ground in Geelong, Kardinia Park,on the following Sunday morning to bury the hawk. I cried again.Great times for a lad with football heroes who had just won thegreatest of sporting trophies, to a lad anyway. These fond memories came flooding back when I finally watchedthose tapes in Paris and read Bhudda's story. I realized yetagain what a great tradition Australia has in the game whichoriginated from Irish immigrants playing Gealic football on thegoldfields of Ballarat in the 1800's. I also realized just howmuch these traditions meant to me and what I had missed out onover the years we lived overseas.I wondered how many people in Geelong really appreciated whatthey have. A lifestyle most people in the world would envy, in acountry still seen as at least a lucky country, if not THEluckiest, and with a sporting tradition and sense of fair playthat reverberates around the world. My career in the oil industry had led us to live overseas and wewouldn't give back a minute of it, but I still miss my footy!Singapore was our first exciting posting, but alas, Australianfootball didn't stand a chance of making it onto Singapore TVscreens. Mr. Lee Kwan Yu didn't want his people corrupted bysuch unhealthy western influences. Jakarta was much moreliberal. In the early 90's we received the "VFL Match of theDay" live on TV Australia. It was great to lie by the pool witha Bintang (Indonesian beer) in hand and an eager houseboy readyto bring another when required as I watched the footy action. The following year we couldn't pick up any footy on TV in KualaLumpur, Malaysia. Dr. Mahitir was still peeved with the thenAustralian Prime Minister Keating for his ill-considered"recalcitrant" remarks directed (correctly) at the amazinglysmug and arrogant Malaysian Prime Minister.We were living in New Orleans, Louisiana, in '95 when the Catsmade the Grand Final against Carlton. We were ecstatic to find alive telecast on U.S. cable TV. broadcast late on a Fridaynight. Denise even made small Aussie meat pies while I hunteddown adequate supplies of Fosters Lager and convinced some(somewhat reluctant) American friends to view the spectacle withus. We even dressed our apartment in blue and white and hadspecial t-shirts printed up for the occasion. Ah, what a partyit was to be.It didn't take long to see the Cats were in for a thrashing andour friends wilting from the power of real beer (Vs theirwatered down variety). We all ended up drowning our sorrows, Idid in my case anyway, they simply enjoyed the beer. But atleast we saw the game (such as it was) live. The Yanks thoughtthe game was a free-for-all. All they remembered the next daywas the beer and pies.Alas, as the French do not want their airwaves or cables fouledby the dreaded "parley Anglaise" they do not allow the satellitedishes needed to pick up the signal in Paris. In fact, wecouldn't even pick up audio BBC clearly, even though it is justacross the channel.No doubt about it, Aussie TV is the best in the world. It mustbe, it carries loads of footy. It used to be free to air toplacate fanatical fans, but these days pay TV is devouring moreand more of the spectacle.Maybe the AFL will one day become the IAFL (the "I" beingInternational) with teams from perhaps, New Zealand, SouthAfrica, Ireland and The Pacific in the competition. Then wemight get to see truly international coverage. I'm dreamingagain. Or am I? I really do think the game has greatinternational potential.Yes, there is a lot to be said for the excitement of living invarious parts of this wonderful world, but there are also greatadvantages in staying where your roots are, growing up withlifelong friends and enjoying the great lifestyle a city likeGeelong and "Gods' Country" Australia, offer.If you intend to travel you should not miss Paris. It is a trulywonderful city, with great architecture, character, colour,love, life, audacity, vibrancy and charm, as well as the French,who make Paris what it is. As for my footy, I'll just have to try to be in Melbourne, atthe "G" on that special day in September. I will shoutencouragement until I'm hoarse again and hopefully watch themighty Cats bring home the flag. Then I will reluctantly boardyet another plane to return to expatriate life. A part of mysoul will stay behind in Geelong, as it always does.The French have a much-revered saying, always stated withheartfelt sincerity and patriotism, "Vive la France."This may still be the year of the cat ("chat" in French) so Isay, with even greater reverence and lots more hope. ... Viveles Chats!Ron A. WelshRAW Power Writing http://www.rawpowerwriting.com/...