While other Cats fans celebrated last night, I was in bed before 11. After all that running, jumping, kicking and sliding about in the wet at the MCG, then a nail-biting finish followed by elation, I was exhausted.

Both teams deserved their Grand Final end to the season. Against any other team St Kilda would have creamed it, but not against Geelong. The Cats were too hungry, too disciplined and too skilled. Under pressure they kept their cool, forging ahead to win by 12 points.

I could talk here about the excitement of the match and about the courage of the players, but I’ll leave that to the experts. I really don’t know enough about AFL to say much about the game, other than it’s the most exciting spectator sport I’ve ever witnessed.

Those who know me will be amazed to hear that I’m a convert to AFL when I’ve only ever shown the slightest interest in sport: usually at FA Cup Final time (on the rare occasions when Liverpool played) or when the Hockeyroos or The Diamonds played a final.

For most of my life I’ve been a sports dilettante, knowing only the names of a handful of star players. Just as I’d relinquished belief in so many things, I didn’t believe in sport. I failed to understand the hope that it gives to people and how it brings together communities. But, heck, sooner or later you’ve gotta believe in something.

So what do I believe in?

Put simply, I believe in hope, determination, commitment and courage. And the Cats have those in bucketloads.

If Cats’ fans could substitute drunken behaviour and violence – reported with dismaying regularity in the news down here – with tolerance and respect for others, Geelong the place, as opposed to Geelong the football club, could be a city like no other.

I can just hear you say it: ‘Tell her she’s dreaming.’

R.I.P. Whoopi – a cool cat whose courage and determination were inspirational.