Lincoln Tan: Changing my religion is on if we're not Cup contenders

Sports magazine Soccer Digest once said soccer was a religion and Ronaldo, Zinedine Zidane, and Luis Figo were its saints. I agree.

In a rugby-mad country like New Zealand, it's hard to imagine the scale of fanaticism associated with soccer.

Once every four years tens of thousands of soccer pilgrims flock to wherever the world's ultimate sporting event is staged - and millions of other followers watch it on TV.

For 40 days and 40 nights they will sacrifice sleep and even sex to follow their saints, praying and hoping their team will go marching on and not out.

Malaysia's Home Affairs Minister, Datuk Seri Mohd Radzi Sheikh Ahmad, issued a warning to civil servants about going to work tired. He said the Prime Minister could carry out spot checks for malingerers in Government offices.

In Jordan, King Abdullah II installed 23 big screens across the kingdom so that football fans in poor areas could get live World Cup coverage.

Some mosques in Singapore have installed big screens, and one of the country's top schools, Raffles Institution, will get live coverage of the games, and students are encouraged to don their favourite team's colours when they watch games at school.

I grew up with the World Cup, and I can still remember the emotions I felt and events in my life which took place during each series.

I remember watching my first World Cup game on television in 1978 at age 10 with my father, a supporter of France. That year his team could not make it past the first round, although they beat Hungary. They had earlier been defeated by Argentina and Italy.

I can still remember the deflated look on Dad's face after that game, and I wondered how this sport could have such a hold on people.

As I grew older, I too got sucked in to the spirit of the World Cup. The one in 1982 is probably the most memorable.

This would probably be true for many Kiwis, who witnessed the All Whites qualifying for the competition, the one and only time New Zealand played in the World Cup.

New Zealand's do-or-die final round qualifier against China was held in Singapore and, at 14, I used my pocket money meant for new clothes for Chinese New Year to get tickets to the game.

It was a case of East v West, and my friends and I backed China.

New Zealand was to me then an island far away, made up of volcanoes, where sheep outnumbered the people, who lived in tiny villages, wore few clothes and often stuck their tongues out.

I remember walking away from Singapore's National Stadium stumped that a group of soccer nobodies could beat China 2-1 to qualify for the World Cup. I then went on to "adopt" Brazil as my team.

But at home there were more problems as Mum forbade me to get up in the middle of the night to watch the games.

A few of my school friends, from St Joseph's Institution, an all-boys Catholic School run by the De La Salle Brothers, had the same problem with their parents. So we devised a little plan.

We told our parents we had to attend a retreat at the brothers' formation house. Little did they know that our "retreat" consisted mainly of eating instant noodles and watching the World Cup.

We did visit the prayer room though, to pray on behalf of our teams before each match.

I was devastated when Brazil were eliminated by a Paolo Rossi hat-trick for Italy, and I remember how I got angry with God after that match.

At this year's World Cup, Catholic priests and religious pastors have been stationed in each of Germany's World Cup cities to help fans seeking divine intervention on behalf of their teams and to offer counselling and spiritual care to those in need of consolation after a defeat.

I can understand the need for such a service.

The All Whites qualifying for the World Cup gave Kiwis a taste of what it is like to have their team in the pinnacle of all competitions. But was it a blessing or a curse?

Now that the All Whites do not qualify, most Kiwis do not have the obligation to support and cheer a soccer team, which means New Zealanders are missing out on what the World Cup has to offer.

Coming from a country like Singapore, which would almost certainly never make it to the World Cup, has made it easier for me to enjoy the tournament in totality.

Following soccer has been much harder since my move to New Zealand, with its limited media coverage. But I am thankful for the internet which keeps me in touch with the game.

After all the talk on soccer at home, I was hoping that some of the World Cup excitement would rub off on my made-in-New Zealand son Ryan, 6. When I asked him which team he would be supporting, he said: All Blacks.

He thinks rugby is "way more cool" than soccer.

I have always dreamed of having a son who would one day be a footballer, but now I would be happy if he just became a soccer fan.

My prayer is for the All Whites to make the World Cup again. That would really help with this father-and-son bonding.

Otherwise, it looks like I will have to change my religion and switch codes to rugby. Go the All Blacks!