An all-world letdown

SAO PAULO, Brazil -- When you think of Brazil, you think of soccer. Or, if you want to think native, futebol.\nYou think of squirming stadiums that appear on the verge of collapse as tens of thousands of ravenous supporters jump, shout and sing their team to victory. If it is a rivalry match, you think of chaos. You think of hooligans, policia and tear gas. That's soccer in Brazil, right -- the spark that ignites a nation?\nMy expectations were high as I passed through the turnstiles of Estádio do Morumbi in Sao Paulo for my first taste of professional soccer. I anticipated a raucous contest between Sao Paulo FC and Ituano, two top-level professional teams of the Campeonato Paulista league.\nWhat I witnessed was something far milder, like I mistakenly chose the wrong salsa. \nOn a drizzly Sunday afternoon, my first peek into the egg-shaped stadium brought to mind all the insanity of a weekday Royals-Devil Rays MLB game.\nA few thousand fans sat parallel to the sideline along the top deck of the stadium. The ends of the oval remained virtually abandoned as were the two lower decks closest to the field of play.\nWhere were my tens of thousands? Where were my hooligans? Can I at least get a streaker to add some color to this match?\nSeveral factors might have contributed to the poor turnout. The season is young -- Campeonato Paulista runs from January to April -- and this obviously was not a bitter rivalry like the one between Sao Paulo's other two teams, Palmeiras and Corinthians, and the poor weather might have kept some people at home. The truth of the matter, however, is that Campeonato Paulista, a league founded more than 100 years ago, has seen better days.\nIn its heyday, the Estádio do Morumbi seated 140,000. One match in 1977 attracted 138,000. Today, the stadium seats a mere 80,000. Maybe 10,000 were in attendance on this particular Sunday.\nReminders of past confrontations could be found everywhere. Thorough frisking was administered to all entrants, tall gates separated fans into sections, and beer was only available without alcohol. Walking to my gate, I couldn't help but notice the small security boxes that dot the stadium's periphery like sentinel outposts.\nThe actual game was about as interesting as the gloomy gray sky -- at least to this American. There was no Pelé to drool over, no Ronaldo to watch jiggle up and down the pitch. Most of Brazil's top talent cashes in overseas these days. There was a player simply named Elvis, but if he was the king of anything, I couldn't tell.\nThere was never a sense of urgency to the game. The game clock was not on display; it was like you were supposed to know intuitively the stage of the game. Ituano played only two forwards and rarely threatened to score. \nHonestly, I've been to more exciting baptisms.\nThose fans that did show up made an impressive amount of noise. And while my Portuguese isn't the greatest, I was able to deduce a few choice words that Sao Paulo fans reserved for the opposition.\nThere is no question that Brazilians adore the game they affectionately call "o jogo bonito." Even in a city like Sao Paulo where space is at a premium, small spaces are set aside for soccer. But as evidenced by the game I witnessed, not even Brazilians will pay to see minor-league talent in major-league venues. \nI guess five World Cup championships bring higher expectations for more people than just me.