Germans, Bolivians Take First Drink From World Cup : During the . . . roughly played first half, fans shrieked as both sides missed scoring opportunities.

At a Torrance beer hall, more than 200 German soccer fans quaffed pilsener and let their bratwurst grow cold Friday as they hooted and hollered at a pair of big-screen television sets displaying the opening game of the World Cup.

Meanwhile, in North Hollywood, at perhaps this nation’s only Bolivian-Mexican restaurant, two dozen Bolivian soccer fans ate meat pies as they cheered on their underdog national team in front of a couple of small screens.

By the time the tightly contested game in Chicago was over, with Germany the 1-0 victor, German fans were smiling in their steins and Bolivians were crying in their Pasena, as the Bolivian beer label is known.

But regardless of the results, followers of both squads--as well as the multitudes in polyglot Los Angeles supporting the 22 other participating national teams--had their appetites whetted for the monthlong international soccer tournament, which makes its local debut at the Rose Bowl today.

Four years ago, Elsa Mueller of Diamond Bar jumped into her swimming pool with her clothes on when Germany won the World Cup final.

On Friday, she and her husband, Walter, remained garbed and confident as they viewed the first-round match at the Alpine Village Inn in Torrance.

“This is a cinch for Germany, 5-1,” said Elsa Mueller, a retired restaurant manager, shortly before the game began.

The Muellers, who moved to America in the early 1950s, said they had driven an hour to watch the game for the camaraderie.

“I’m so excited,” Mrs. Mueller said as half-full plates of chicken and bratwurst sat tepid on their table, “I can’t even eat.”

At a bar stool nearby, computer systems analyst Ronald Urbina sipped on a bottle of Spaten beer. Urbina, a Chilean native who has lived in Germany, was so excited that he arrived in Torrance two hours before the Alpine Village Inn opened Friday morning.

“So I went to McDonald’s to buy some 99 cent World Cup pins,” he said. They were displayed on his German World Cup hat and his German World Cup T-shirt.

In front of another TV screen in the balcony sat 87-year-old Julius Kresinski of Downey, who said he played soccer in Germany before World War II. The seat next to Kresinski was empty, save for a life-size black, red and yellow German flag.

At game time, most German fans expressed certainty of their team’s superiority over the Bolivian squad--and twice, on shots that went slightly astray, the boisterous foot-stomping reached quake-like levels.

Use of hands and arms may not be allowed in soccer, but Mrs. Mueller more than made up for the players on the TV set, punching the air whenever the German squad made a good play.

By halftime, with the score still 0-0, the crowd had grown somewhat subdued, and Urbina and others said their team’s performance had been impaired by the Chicago heat.

Not so, said Gustav Netal, an Austrian immigrant, who was also rooting for Germany. The favorites, the machine tool rebuilder said, looked as if they were still asleep.

His prescription? “They need a shot of Jagermeister at halftime.”

When the German team finally took the lead--for good--in the second half, the entire crowd, except for Kresinski, stood on their feet. The octogenarian deliberately unfurled his flag and waved it in the air for a good 30 seconds--to the delight of all but those at the table directly behind him, who complained that they couldn’t see the instant replay.

At the L.A. Salsa eatery in North Hollywood, special menus featured the unusual Bolivian-Mexican mix of dishes and hyped the day’s matchup: “Two Titans, face to face.”

Hugo Velasco, 32-year-old co-owner, donned a Bolivia World Cup T-shirt and a cap emblazoned with his homeland’s national colors, red and yellow. Apprehensive, he nonetheless exuded confidence that the long-shot Bolivians could somehow upset the powerful German team.

“I had a feeling that we would win,” said Velasco, serving Bolivian saltenas, or meat pies, to a crowd of anxious compatriots arrayed in front of the two television screens.

Others were not quite so sanguine, expressing the hope that the Bolivian squad, in its first Cup appearance in 44 years, would at least comport itself honorably against its formidable opponent. The sense of national pride that virtually shut down soccer-mad Bolivia on Friday was clearly apparent among these aficionados.

“For once Bolivia is in the spotlight for something positive,” said Mario Torrico, a 39-year-old Bolivian native who came to the United States at age 2, noting the nation’s usual notoriety for drug trafficking and coups d’etat.

During the tightly contested and roughly played first half, fans shrieked as both sides missed scoring opportunities. The Bolivian onlookers were proud of their boys. And, in their eyes, the Teutonic strongmen were wilting in the 90-degree Chicago heat.

A relieved Sylvia Antezana said, “For us, a tie is a victory.”

A nervous fan added as the second half began: “We may need the paramedic.”

Alas, dreams of a tie--or even a victory--were largely dashed when superstar German forward Juergen Klinsmann broke free and blasted the ball into an empty net in the 61st minute. Disbelieving Bolivians called the play a fluke, and possibly an offsides violation, but the celebratory German players on the screen recognized that they had made the decisive breakthrough.

Afterward, pride at the South Americans’ surprisingly strong performance outweighed their supporters’ disappointment. “The one goal was absurd, but everyone knows that we played well,” said La Paz native Roxana Chalco.

The Muellers headed for home with smiles on their faces but no plans to leap into their swimming pool with or without bathing suits. Instead, they planned to watch South Korea play Spain in the second Cup match, and eat German baked goods and sausages.

For Velasco, the owner of the Bolivian-Mexican restaurant, the loss was more than a case of national disappointment. He would have to work something out with his German brother-in-law, whom he had bet $2,000 that Bolivia would prevail.

And Velasco would also have to enter into somewhat more delicate negotiations with his girlfriend, Ana Barrenechea, who had vowed to marry him if Bolivia won. “Well, we’re still novios, “ Barrenechea said afterward, using the Spanish term for girlfriends and boyfriends.