Let me kick this off by saying I want to love soccer. I really do.

But even after watching the World Cup final, I don’t.

To maximize Super Bowl football, you throw a party and invite 100 of your closest friends. In an attempt to appreciate world-class “ftbol,” you invade your British friend Paul’s living room Sunday at exactly 5:31 a.m.

Paul: You’re late!

RW: Huh? It’s punctually impossible to be late this early.

Paul: Univision’s pregame started 30 minutes ago. Fancy a Guinness?

RW: Hmm. Dark, thick, room-temperature beer before sunrise? Mighty tempting, but I’ll pass.

Paul: Make light if you want, but 1.5 billion are watching this game.

RW: Maybe, but I can’t name five of them. 140 million people watched the last Super Bowl, and I can’t name five that didn’t.

Paul: Dream matchup, Brazil vs. Germany. Two of the best all-time. Brazil’s crafty offense vs. Germany’s organized defense.

RW: Hey, cool, the lead singer from Midnight Oil is reffing! What, Jerry Markbreit wasn’t available?

Paul: Game on! Watch the skill, enjoy the build-ups.

RW: Lemme guess, first one to 1 wins?

Paul: Funny. To really enjoy “ftbol,” you’ve got to embrace the nuances of the game.

RW: Oh, I know the nuances all right, I just don’t like ’em. Kinda like I understand all the nuances of sour cream

Paul: Nice run oh! That was close.

RW: What was close? You almost doze off, too?

Paul: The referee’s assistant had his flag up. Offsides.

RW: I’m telling ya, soccer will never score in America until you get rid of that ridiculous rule. We live for the one-on-one confrontation. Iverson on a breakaway against Shaq. Modano in on Patrick Roy. Deion shadowing Irvin. Football would lose major luster if every Randy Moss bomb was waved off because there wasn’t a defender between him and the goal line when the ball left the quarterback’s hand.

Paul: “Ftbol” is not all about scoring!

RW: Good thing, because other than women’s fast-pitch softball, I can’t name a sport that can keep score on one hand. At 2 1/2 goals per game, soccer wants to become America’s fifth major sport. No scoring? No fighting? No chance.

RW: Speaking of no scoring. Surprise! Nil-Nil, halftime. Finally, the good part. Who we got? Michael Jackson? ‘N Sync? Britney?

Paul: This is ABC, you get Terry, Giorgio and Eric.

RW: You’re kidding?!

Paul: Relax, second half coming up. Another Guinness?

RW: Naw, I’m ordering a pizza. At least that’ll geez, it’s only 7 a.m.!

Paul: This is going to be interesting. Watch Brazil combine several small clever passes into one goal-scoring chance. Like that! Oh! Just wide! (claps).

RW: Next time I applaud my team’s 70-yard drive that ends with a missed field goal will be the first time.

Paul: Focus! Something’s about to give.

RW: Don’t you think Germany’s coach looks like Dudley Moore and Brazil’s like Gene Hackman? And who flops more, Velcro-patch-for-hair Ronaldo or Vlade Divac? And …

Paul: Watch out! Ronaldo! GOAL!

RW: GOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!

RW: No offsides? No cards? No nothing?

Paul: Great goal. But (Germany goalie Oliver) Kahn misplayed it. Ronaldo took the carom and buried it.

RW: Poor Kahn. The guy has been spectacular, and now this. His margin for error was the smallest thing in Germany since the VW Bug.

Paul: 2-0! Ronaldo again! It’s over, just a matter of time.

RW: Which is running up toward 90:00 instead of down toward 0:00 for some reason, I might add.

Paul: Not even you can ruin this. It’s fantastic! Look, at least we still have end-zone celebrations. Ronaldo doing the Samba. That’s what it’s all about!

RW: Oh yeah? Ever seen the Fridge do the Super Bowl Shuffle?