Thursday, June 27, 2002 | 9:29 a.m.
Ron Kantowski's insider notes column appears Tuesday and his Page One column appears Thursday. He can be reached at [email protected] or (702) 259-4088.
In that I've become somewhat of a soccer buff since being first subjected to a (World) Cup check in 1994, in pains me to say that the U.S.'s infatuation with soccer already is in injury time.
And that the 15 minutes of fame earned by our national side during its unparalled success in the World Cup has now reached about 14 1/2.
The World Cup hasn't even run its course, and we've already lost interest. I'm not referring to the hardcore enthusiasts who eat, drink and sleep the game, the kind who make an annual pilgrimage to Tres Coracoes, Brazil, to take photos of the pitch where the great Pele roamed as a youngster. I'm talking about the butcher, the baker and, if you know one, the candlestick maker.
Maybe the World Cup is like the NCAA men's basketball tournament. It's so darn long that by the time it gets down to deciding the championship, we've had enough.
On Sunday night, (very) early Sunday morning here, Brazil will square off against Germany to determine whose Cup will runneth over. In the soccer world, it doesn't get any bigger. Brazil has copped the Cup four times, Germany three, which ain't bad, given the tournament didn't begin until 1930 and is held only every four years.
It's gonna be like the Cowboys vs. the Steelers, Ford vs. Chevy, Finley vs. Kataen. At least in countries where they spell football with a "u."
But in this country, I don't think too many steak-and-potatoes types plan on crawling out of bed before the crack of dawn to watch it. Heck, we're not even going to set our VCRs (even if we know how). In that our boys are home now, those of us who still care will read about who won in the paper the next day. Probably on page 6.
As much as I would like to see soccer take, um, a foothold here, I just don't see it happening, and here's why. Last Saturday, only a day after our guys scared the schnitzel out of the Germans before losing 1-0 in the quarterfinals, and with me still kicking everything in the house that moved (with the exception of my wife and Yorkshire terriers), I flipped to ESPN2 for the Major League Soccer game between the Chicago Fire and MetroStars.
What a disappointment. For starters, the game wasn't even played in Chicago, but in a distant suburb on a junior college football field that needed mowing. There was a giant helmet with a cryptic logo painted in the middle of the field, and the rest of the gridiron markings made it difficult to follow the game, especially when the midfielders kept tripping over the 35-yard line.
That last part was meant as a joke. But the fact is that regardless of how many of its alums starred for Team USA, Major League Soccer bears little resemblance to the games I've been watching on TV during the past month. Or for that matter, on the dish from England on Sunday night.
By halftime I turned away, thinking that this must be what it's like to watch Norwegians play baseball, the Chinese play football, the French fight a war.
It made you appreciate what the U.S. team accomplished even more. While our guys did a fantastic job, they probably played over their heads. That's about the most we'll be able to hope for every four years, unless our best shortstops, small forwards and running backs decide to become strikers, midfielders and defenders.
Based on the speed at which soccer already has cleared the byeline of our collective conscience, I'm afraid those positions, like the game itself, will continue to be a foreign concept to most Americans.
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