WORLD CUP USA 1994 : COMMENTARY : If This Keeps Up, Hot-Stove Soccer Isn’t Far Behind

It is one week into the World Cup, and people all over the country are talking about soccer. I’ll repeat that. People are talking about soccer .

These are people apparently of sound mind and body, such as the two Marines waiting for a flight at Ontario Airport on Thursday. There were discussing how Switzerland versus Colombia today will impact Group A standings.

That’s right, two Marines. Didn’t Marines used to talk about football or boxing?

There’s no denying it. We are a country, at least for the moment, infatuated with the sport of one-name stars and flag-waving fans. We might not have quite caught soccer fever yet, but our faces are a little flush and we’re feeling warm around the temples.

Besides Alexi Lalas’ goatee, there have been some amazing sights this week.

The national convention of the Associated Press Sports Editors began in Dana Point on Wednesday, the same day as the shocking, heartwarming U.S. victory over Colombia at the Rose Bowl. At an early evening reception for the sports editors, who come from all over the country, all TV sets were turned to the soccer game--even after the start of the seventh game of the NBA finals.

American sports editors have long been accused of being the main reason for the continuing failure of soccer in this country. They don’t know the sport, and thus they hate it, soccer people say.

Now, at least for the moment, many of these same sports editors are like the famous TV cereal ad about Mikey. They like it. Hey, Alan Rothenberg, they like it.

In many ways, the timing of the U.S. stunner over Colombia couldn’t have been better. Soccer not only had a great moment, but had it head to head with an American sports institution like the NBA. And lived to tell about it. Hell, live to shout with delight about it.

It could be, in retrospect, that Patrick Ewing, John Starks and their remarkable sledgehammer shooting touch contributed greatly to the magical moment for U.S. soccer. Many people watched the soccer game because, comparing it to the Knicks, they figured they would see more scoring.

So much has already happened this first week.

We’ve seen five penalty-kick goals.

We’ve seen the other team score a goal for the United States-- muchas gracias , Colombia.

We’ve seen a near-goal bicycle kick by U.S. defender Marcelo Balboa against Colombia.

And we’ve seen, perhaps, a new category of immigration--call it the immigration of necessity--up-coming for the young Colombian Oscar Cordoba, who scored the goal against his country. This could mark the first time anybody has been anxious to move to New Jersey.

Above all, we, as a fledgling soccer-viewing nation, have now matured so that, after one week, we can walk past one of those foreign-language World Cup telecasts, hear the announcer call a GOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL, and not immediately call for medical help. The last human able to hold his breath that long was Lloyd Bridges in “Sea Hunt.”

We’ve also learned about soccer hairdos and their respective impacts. We know that Valderrama’s sells, but doesn’t do much in games; that Tony Meola’s must actually be black paint; that Alexi Lalas’ plays beautifully and that Cobi Jones’ doesn’t play at all until about the 70th minute.

Mostly, we’ve learned that this is kind of fun, that the summer sun does not have to rise and set on last night’s one-hitter or next month’s arrival of punters and kickers at Oxnard and Anaheim.

We’ve certainly learned that Brazil and Pele no longer have a patent on single-name sports heroes.

Right, Bora?