Inside the media circus

KAWASAKI, Japan -- On Friday, I learned once again that media circus doesn't even begin to describe what it's like to cover the Brazilian national soccer team on the eve of the World Cup final (in which the Samba Kings will meet -- and beat -- Germany down the road in Yokohama on Sunday).

There we were, more than 200 foul-talking, foul-smelling media types, packed like sardines behind barriers at Yokohama's Mitsuzawa Park athletic field. Further sub-barriers separated us into TV media, Brazilian print media and international print media, and further sub-sub-barriers divided us by language (meaning I had to scrum with the highly insufferable British journo corps).

The object of all this was to intercept the Brazilian players as they walked to their bus, snag a quote or two and somehow hope to make the humbling experience worthwhile. The reality was something different, not least because:

Not many Brazilian players speak English. (Duh.)

None of us spoke Portuguese.

The Brazilians hate the British media, understandably so after they made a huge fuss about how Ronaldinho couldn't possibly have been trying to score on his game-winning free kick against England. (Note to self: Hang with the Spanish-speaking reporters next time.)

The Brits, for all their highfalutin football talk, ask really dumb questions. "Ronaldo, are you going to have another seizure?" was the pick of the bunch.

Naturally, most of the Brazilian players took one look at the pathetic Anglo mob and kept on walking toward the bus. (Ronaldinho, god bless him, was laughing almost uncontrollably as he dissed us. "Crucify him then," muttered one intemperate hack who was breathing foul air down my neck.)

After an hour of waiting, we got to ask Ronaldo two questions. Regrettably, a Brazilian official was frantically trying to wave him onto the bus, which set up a finale featuring the highest of high comedy. As the Brazilians motored back to their hotel, one of their press agents -- a guy named Ricardo, who looks exactly the way you'd expect Ronaldo to look in 15 years; we call him Ronaldo's Mini-Me -- helpfully translated the tape of Ronaldo's responses for panting scribes.

Then, going above and beyond the call of duty, Ricardo recited to us "quotes" he had heard in the mixed zone from the players to the Brazilian media (i.e., the journalists they actually like). It hardly mattered that we hadn't heard them say any of this stuff; when you picked up your broadsheet in London on Saturday morning, Cafu said this, and Rivaldo said that, when in fact they didn't talk to us at all.

(Could you imagine the Washington press corps doing this? President Bush would never have to say a single word. No press conferences. No televised addresses. Ari Fleischer could just sit in his office and put words in the Prez's mouth, all of them eagerly scribbled down by reporters with empty notebooks and tight deadlines.)

When the charade was over, Ricardo asked around: "Anything else?"

"Got any good Beckham quotes?" asked one British wag.

Somewhere, surely, Edward R. Murrow and Murray Kempton were turning over in their graves.

In hindsight, I should have followed the example of the Germans, who stayed in glorious Korea as long as possible before parachuting into Japan late Friday night. (Nothing against the Japanese, who themselves are friendly hosts, but the World Cup just seems dreary over here compared to the pandemonium that reigned in Seoul.)

Oh, the game. You want me to discuss the game? (My crack Web editors are nodding their heads right now.) Fair enough. I like Brazil. Though you're no doubt tired of my NCAA tournament comparisons, this game reminds me a lot of the Maryland-Indiana final in Atlanta: a traditionally strong but suddenly mediocre program (Germany/Indiana) surprisingly makes the final, where it meets the athletically superior, more aesthetically pleasing favorite (Brazil/Maryland).

In that encounter, a tournament of upsets set up a crap title game, and while one hopes that Brazil-Germany won't descend to the bumbling depths of Terps-Hoosiers, I'm afraid that's what we might see. Let's be honest: the only way Germany has a chance to hoist the Cup is if:

Some poor Brazilian defender makes a horrific gaffe to give them a goal. (Lucio already did this against England; if anyone does in this game, I'd bet on Roberto Carlos, who has gone the entire tournament without one of his characteristic misplays.) Unlike England or Italy, though, the Germans know how to hold a 1-0 lead and would attempt gamely to do so.

We see a depressing scoreless draw, after which German Uber-keeper Oliver Kahn saves two PKs and announces he's going to Disney World.

If either scenario transpires, I'm afraid I'll have to leap from the roof of Yokohama Stadium before the final whistle. Say what you will about all the shocking upsets, but in my mind the only truly classic encounter of this tournament has been South Korea's 2-1 come-from-behind defeat of Italy. Also entertaining were the U.S.'s 3-2 upset of Portugal, Brazil's 5-2 win over Costa Rica and the second half of Japan's 2-2 draw against Belgium.

Note, however, that none of those matches took place after the round of 16. In other words, we're due for a fun game. Please, Brazil and Germany: I don't care who wins, but give us some good soccer. And if you do, I promise the media horde will turn into an insightful, courteous, good-humored bunch afterward.

(Right.)

Brazil 1, Germany 0.

 

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