In China, the World Cup is a late-night affair. Matches are played past midnight to devoted crowds that — for a month, at least — shed all discipline and productivity. In the Shanghai neighborhood I called home through two previous World Cups, raucous roars would rumble down streets and up stairwells any time a goal was scored, no matter the hour.
It's the sort of sleep-depriving enthusiasm that in most places is reserved for the home team (or the team playing the home team's rival). In China, though, there hasn't been a World Cup home team since 2002, when the Chinese side failed to score at all in three losses.
Ever since, China's soccer fans have been left looking for proxies. (Argentina is a longtime national favorite.) All the while, they grumble under their breaths about the government's control-freak approach to choosing athletes for the national team and a lack of youth developmental leagues outside of the official system — problems that have relegated what should be a beloved national team to 103rd in FIFA's world rankings.