THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, July 6, 1994 TAG: 9407060486
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BOB MOLINARO
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
If the people who promote soccer in America can calm down and keep things in perspective, I will join the chorus of voices announcing the World Cup a qualified success.
There's a lot to recommend about a sport in which the action goes on without commercial interruption.
Meanwhile, the identities of some of the best foreign players are slowly seeping through my provincial American skull. If, three weeks from now, I can't recall the names of Bebeto, Romario, Baggio or even the USA's Eric Wynalda, well, it's been a good summer run, an interesting learning experience, a nice change of pace from baseball's scratching and spitting.
For a modest emotional investment, this American soccer semiliterate has found himself getting quite a kick out of the World Cup. Three weeks ago, World Cup fever was not catching in America. Now it is.
Any report on How America Spent Its Summer Vacation will have to include a lot about the Cup. Sometimes it seems as if the depressing national gawkfest over O.J. Simpson is sucking the air out of actual sporting events in this country.
Fourth of July, then, was a welcome break from the courtroom and speculation about DNA and hair samples. It was a time for America to watch Brazil beat the United States, 1-0, in a game that was billed as the most anticipated soccer moment in American history. True, that's not saying much. Also, Americans were more curious than passionate about the game.
Those who watched learned something, though. The Brazilians showed America a side of soccer with which we are not familiar.
Nine of the 11 Brazilian starters on Monday go by only one name. That's star power. That's Showtime.
``Romario and Bebeto coming down the field,'' said USA defender Paul Caligiuri, ``is like Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson coming down the court.''
From what I saw, every Brazilian player should be named Magic. By playing only half the field, and catching a few breaks, the U.S. team hung tough on the scoreboard, while being badly outclassed on the field.
How the elegant Brazilians' obvious superiority can translate to a meager one-goal victory is a mystery this American soccer semiliterate cannot unravel.
The rest of the world never tires of telling Americans how little we know of soccer. I wonder now how we are being perceived by chauvinists around the globe. I wonder, though I really don't care.
It's obvious that our country should be given credit for filling stadiums from coast to coast for a sport it doesn't understand or much care for.
What does America's support of the World Cup mean? Maybe only that Americans love a big party. Or that we will buy anything if it is hyped enough. Or that we have come to appreciate the skill and durability of strangers from strange lands.
American soccer promoters go too far, though. They contend that the World Cup's popularity is evidence that major league soccer can make it in the United States. More likely, the World Cup is a comet flashing across the American sky - riveting while it is here, forgotten once it's gone.
The USA's Wynalda put America's soccer interest in perspective when he noted he had ``signed 10 million autographs over the last couple of weeks, but only a couple people knew my name.''
That's because Americans have fallen for the World Cup spectacle, not the sport.
Soccer still belongs to the rest of the world and to our immigrants. But if the world doesn't mind, I will stay wired into this World Cup.
I may not understand the globe's obsession with soccer, but I know a good show when I see one. by CNB