While the embers of the 2003 football finals still cast a pleasing glow, we should never take for granted the amazing spectacle of skill and determination that is Croke Park on All Ireland Sunday, writes An Fear Rua …

So many of us grew up playing and watching Gaelic football and hurling from an early age that they are ingrained in us. As that great and wise Labour leader, James Connolly, commented in another context: 'They are flesh of our flesh, and bone of our bone'.

Every under-10 footballer or hurler who trots out on to a parish playing field in any part of Ireland may legitimately aspire to being another Peter Canavan, Oisin McConville, DJ Carey or Tommy Dunne gracing a magnificent Croke Park on All Ireland Day. Increasingly, girls too see themselves as an Úna O'Dwyer or an Angie McNally playing in a camogie or a women's' football final. There are still barely enough dedicated club offeeeshals, coaches, mentors, selectors, managers and trainers throughout the country to ensure that this dream may happen for a kid, provided he or she is dedicated enough to try.

Other countries, it must be said, are not so fortunate to enjoy games of such magnificence, with this seamless transition from the grassroots of under age right up to national final day. France, for example, is a country that has given much to the world. Cherished and powerful ideas like Liberté, Egalité, Fraternitéand the Rights of Man are grounded in the turbulent soil of the French Revolution. The Code Napoleon is the basis of the legal systems of much of Africa, the Orient, North America and South America. French cuisineis justly praised even if An Fear Rua held his silence. So much given; so much for a country and people to be proud of.

Yet what is France's contribution to the world of sport? True, the country of Sartre, Monet, de Beauvoir, and Houllebecq has excelled in recent years in soccer and athletics and, for many years previously in le Rugby. But none of these are distinctively French sports. They are instead international, increasingly homogenised, packages designed and put together for broadcasting on pay-as-you-view satellite channels owned by the ineluctable Mr. Rupert Murdoch. Their background is one of political tussles by aging 'blazers' over who hosts what major tournament next and who gets the biggest slice of the cash raked in from the corporate world.

Ah no, mes amis - sorry, we mean a cháirde - the distinctive French contribution to the realm of sport is a harmless little game called Boules. Any of An Fear Rua's readers who duck off to France from time to time on one of those cut price Aer Lingus or Ryanair flights may already be familiar with this gem of a game.

It is usually played by aging or old men on a flat, sun-baked piece of earth about twenty metres long and ten metres wide. Players take turns to throw a heavy steel boule, or ball, to see who can get it nearest to a brightly coloured target ball. The game - being French, of course - involves much Gallic shrugging of shoulders, raising of eyebrows and oohing and aahing. It is played at a leisurely place, with plenty of time to observe and comment on the passing female pulchritude and to debate the nuances of local and national politics. True, there is a modicum of skill involved in pitching the boule such that an opponent is knocked away from the target and replaced by yours. But, after that, rien. A Peter Canavan left footed point from fifty metres out on the wing or a DJ Carey twist and shimmy before pointing straight off the hurley it ain't!

These musings are prompted by a recent holiday visit to the South of France by An Fear Rua agus An Chlann Rua. It was the Sunday of the hurling semi-final between Kilkenny and Tipp and our thoughts were far away from the golden sand and turquoise waters of the Mediterranean. Nearby, they were playing the ubiquitous game of boules while younger denizens of the beach tried hard to muster up enthusiasm for some games of volleyball and tennis. If they thought about it all, most of these people would see themselves as belonging to a nation and a culture that was infinitely superior to Ireland's. Indeed, a Martian anthropologist comparing the two countries would probably concur. Yet, how could their national pastime of boules be compared to the speed and skill of ourgames?

'Unique' is an adjective that is much over-used and misunderstood in Irish discourse. It may, however, correctly be applied to hurling and Gaelic football. They are without comparison anywhere in terms of the skill, speed and courage needed to excel at them. Yet, in global terms, they are confined to a tiny island with a population of around five million people plus a smattering of their relatives in a number of other countries. It just goes to show that skill and speed in themselves are not enough to achieve a global reach for a sport. Indeed, in the case of hurling, the level of skill and regular training required may actually be an off-putting factor for many people in these 'quick fix' times.

The global sports today are the likes of soccer and athletics, with rugby, cricket, hockey and baseball enjoying strong pockets of continental or regional support. These are the increasingly homogenised and packaged sports so favoured by the media moguls and their tame 'blazers'. To them, Gaelic football and - more especially - hurling are just quirky, minority, locally-popular sports that stand in the way of their global domination. The globalisation of 'sport' in the service of Mammon is the greatest single challenge facing the GAA into the future. How is Dis Great Assoosheeayshun of Ours to ensure that what are miniscule sports - in global terms - retain their popularity and strength and even prosper in the face of a huge international media onslaught?

This is an issue of survival that goes beyond narrow one-off questions like 'pay-for-play' or 'opening up Croke Park'. Gaelic games - together with the Irish language, music and dance - are central among the remaining elements of a distinctive Irish culture. If they are diluted or die, then a major part of what it means to be Irish in the 21st century will be irreplaceably lost. That is why the GAA's response to the globalisation challenge must be careful, nuanced, courageous and holistic. It must be flexible enough to be able to move with the changing times, but not so flexible that it becomes a case of 'throwing out the baby with the bathwater'. This is no easy task. Yet there is evidence from the Association's past that it is capable of behaving in this way, though the challenges it faces now are incomparably greater. In the end, its greatest assets remain the essential nature of the games themselves.

So, next time you watch DJ soloing towards goal with his shoulder down, or Canavan deftly flicking over the bar remember they're not just doing it for Kilkenny or Tyrone, they're doing it for Ireland as well. After all, they may be all that stand between us and the globalisation of Boules by Mr. Rupert Murdoch …