World Cup fever hits Monterey.

A manic cheer rises and then rumbles through the door of Britannia Arms Pub in Monterey and into the street: Goal. The roar from the 100-plus people goes unheard—at 6:03am on a Saturday, the street is empty.

Nine time zones, an ocean and most of two continents away, a parallel scream is shaking the foundations of FIFA World Cup Stadium in Frankfurt, Germany. Ubiquitous English midfielder David Beckham has sent one of his patented bending free kicks skipping off the head of Paraguay’s Carlos Gamarra for a goal. Three minutes into a game millions of people have waited four years for, the score is 1-0.

And while the afternoon heat in Frankfurt differs dramatically from the Monterey morning fog filling the sky here at the exact same moment in time, there are similarities between the soccer-obsessed places, including an exuberance unique to this once-every-four-years event and plenty of hard-core team loyalty.

The gaga World Cup exuberance that has brought this throng downtown before dawn is a bit of a cultural shift from American sports fandom. No American football stadiums host crowds of 50,000 singing whole songbooks of team anthems with one voice. No NBA games ever include a former superstar screaming wildly from his luxury box while waving a team jersey, as Argentina’s two-time World Cup champion Diego Maradona often does (and has already at this year’s Cup).

Here at the Britannia Arms, the exuberance lifts the soft-spoken Keith Walsh of London, England from the floor of the packed pub to the top of his tall, teetering barstool. He and Dave Muncke of San Jose, who are in town for Muncke’s wedding later in the day—where Walsh will be the best man—arrived at 5:45am to claim a table. They’re still about 50 feet from the bar’s huge big screen.

“In six hours I’m getting married,” said Muncke. “My fiancé was a little skeptical about us coming at first—she said, ‘England better win.’”

That brand of early-morning loyalty is common here.

Bar co-owner and English native Paul Whitecross got to the Arms at 3:30am and was in place to reserve his stool at the corner of the bar closest to the big screen by 5:20am. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” he said. “It’s like Christmas.”

This year, a year when officials estimate 5 billion fans will watch the World Cup, much has been of what the World Cup means to so many different countries and so many fans. Angola, surprise qualifiers for the first time in their nation’s history, hope to heal a country torn by civil war. Ivory Coast has enlisted witch doctors to help bless their team, one made up largely of immigrants and Muslims that many feel will do much more to unify a country sullied by brutal hatred against these groups than any national leader might. Croatia seeks nothing less than an affirmation of their national independence.

Yet even amongst these anxious contingents of international fans, English fans retain a reputation for their own special brand of neuroses, one perhaps best described as an insincere optimism: they hope desperately that their geezers will perform at a level befitting the nation that invented soccer, but expect far worse, having suffered through 40 years without a World Cup.

One American soccer fan—who requested anonymity so as to preserve his right to return to the English-owned Arms—claimed familiarity with the English plight. “The difference between the American fans and English fans,” he said, “is that we expect to win. They expect something to go wrong.”

“It’s high expectations and sleepless nights, a desire to see this team do well,” said England-born Britannia Arms co-owner Steve Rodhouse. “We have so many quality players...but there have been other teams that didn’t fulfill expectations.”

For 90 minutes on this, the second day of what will be a month’s worth of World Cup matches, the English fulfill expectations, holding on to defeat Paraguay. But this is only the beginning—which is a wonderful reality for these soccer fans, many of whom stay to watch the day’s remaining two games, and plan on returning for numerous games between now and the July 9 final, where Rodhouse and Whitecross pledge to travel should England advance that far.

Whitecross renews that wide-eyed Christmas look when talk turns to the month ahead. “It’s gonna be mental,” he said. “We’re gonna kill it all week. All month.”

THE BRITANNIA ARMS, located at 444 Alvarado St. in Monterey, will show World Cup games through July 9. For more information, call 656-9543.