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Chinese football star Li Tie shuffles across the lobby of his team's Shanghai hotel juggling a miniature soccer ball--and desperately trying to play it cool. On June 4, Li and his teammates will play in China's first World Cup finals match, after 44 years of futility and failure. "I keep trying to tell them to relax," says national-team coach Bora Milutinovic. "It's just another game." But for China, it is much more than that. The whole world will be watching, putting the pride of this soccer-mad nation at stake. Li, a rail-thin 24-year-old midfielder, glides into the team's breakfast room, stacks his plate high and--almost unheard of in China-- jokes around with his coach. But his air of studied nonchalance evaporates as he says, to nobody in particular: "One more week. Just one more week."
Ah, the pressure of taking the Great Leap Forward. The World Cup, of course, is a huge deal all over the world. But in China, where nationalism and capitalism are the only "isms" left standing, the event offers a rare defining moment for the nation of 1.3 billion. It may be frightening to the players, but it is exceedingly enticing to the lords of big business, the government and international soccer. When China qualified for the finals last October, ending an epic history of frustration, half a billion Chinese viewers watched the deciding game--four times the size of the last Super Bowl audience--and then poured into the streets to celebrate. The victory struck an even deeper chord than winning the 2008 Olympics bid or entering the World Trade Organization. Now the true test begins. And while China is the lowest-ranked squad in the 32-team field, one thing is certain: its cheering section will be the biggest in the world, whether the fans are motivated by pride, profits or sheer love of the game.
Chinese historians, naturally, say the earliest variation of the game was invented there more than 1,000 years ago. But the sport languished for centuries and was virtually eliminated during the Cultural Revolution. It has gained steam only in the past decade with the creation of the country's first professional league and the regular broadcast of international games. Despite some ugly side effects--recent reports have centered on hooliganism and a referee-bribery scandal--the 10-team pro league is improving quickly. Four Chinese players, including Li, have signed lucrative contracts with European clubs. Promising more such heroes, hundreds of private soccer schools have sprouted up all over China, some run by top European clubs, such as A.C. Milan. The clubs' main goal is not simply to develop talent. It is to create the kind of brand recognition that will sell 1.3 billion football jerseys.
With such commercial clout, it's no surprise that China is acting as a sort of shadow host for this year's World Cup. The games will take place in South Korea and Japan, but China--the giant next door--wants to attract some of the expected 1 million tourists. It also wants the pack of international sponsors to check out opportunities for the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. World Cup organizers, for their part, have shown no ...