Hey, Some Stuff About Soccer Is Really Cool

Back in the dark ages, all I knew about the World Cup was that it turned South American play-by-play announcers into human boom boxes. When these guys describe a goal, they make Dick Vitale sound no more animated than Warren Christopher.

Otherwise, I was a clueless wretch unworthy of washing the calloused feet of one of the world’s 45 bazillion sidewinding “futbol” players.

But those dark ages ended a month ago. Since then, I’ve watched four or five entire halves, enough to qualify me as a staunchly opinionated Cupophile.

For instance, I like the fact the sport won’t compromise. I like its defiant indifference towards commercial TV: You schedule your break on YOUR time, not ours.

Also, I like soccer’s insistence that all games be played on a natural carpet. Such an uncompromising position led to the installation of a grass field inside Michigan’s Silverdome. And though it was only temporary, the mere concept of indoor grass might’ve been the most significant advancement for fans since the ice cube.

On the other hand, I don’t like soccer players who answer to only one name. Pele? OK, I’ll allow Pele to slide through on a grandfather clause. But what’s with this “Leonardo” dude?

There’s only one Leonardo. He lived almost 500 years ago. He drew something more memorable than a four-game suspension.

If Leonardo wants to be known simply as Leonardo in his native Brazil, that’s fine. But upon his arrival here, he should’ve been required to call himself Leon Ardo, or Lee Anardo, or Leo Nardo.

An athlete named Leo Nardo, I can respect. Without even looking at Leo Nardo, I can tell he is one tough cookie, a scrappy bruiser who won’t back down.

But Leonardo? Leonardo ought to be sipping mineral water at the fashion-show luncheon previewing his new line of fall evening gowns.

I like the World Cup community’s realistic perception of head coaches: Men who build squads and supervise practices and organize scouting reports, but who essentially are irrelevant during games. American sports fans are so preoccupied with Sideline Celebrities that every play on TV is followed by a reaction shot of both coaches.

Alas, the World Cup broadcasters may have picked up on that idol worshiping. During the U.S.Brazil showdown the other day, it was pointed out that American coach Bora Milutinovic had been “standing up since start of the game.” As if standing still were a more difficult chore than running up and down a field in the hot summer sun for 90 minutes.

Speaking of the 90-minute game clock: I like that it doesn’t stop every 1.8 seconds, the way it does in the last minute of a college basketball game. There’s an almost mystical quality to a clock that flows like Old Man River while some poor guy has been cold-cocked into dreamland.

But I don’t like a game clock that only tells some of the time. A 90-minute clock ought to expire at 90 minutes. In the World Cup, it routinely dawdles two or three minutes past that.

Forgive my disregard for a quaint soccer tradition, but why even have a clock if nobody can count on it? If you want to emphasize quaint tradition, why not just rely on a sun dial?

I like the four-year gap between World Cups. Were it held every summer, the globe’s most compelling sports spectacle would be just another Tour de France.

Four years is a nice fit; I can be captivated by darn near anything every four years, including the luge and the New Hampshire Primary.

Most of all, I like the World Cup’s second-round playoff format: 16 survivors, eight quarterfinalists, four semifinalists, two finalists, and one champion.

There’s something about a playoff bracket that appeals uniquely to the sports fan. It’s the secret, I’m convinced, behind the fascination America keeps for college basketball’s Final Four.

Nigeria may have been playing Italy, but the winner-goes-on, loser-goes-home ramifications of that match made a splash in every office pool from Wall Street to Rodeo Drive.

Never again will America shrug off the World Cup as somebody else’s party. In 1998, this wonderfully riveting playoff tournament will captivate the same sports fans who’ve found themselves tuning in this summer.