Semifinals Remain an Inner Sanctum Until Further Notice

The World Cup, ultimately, is a highly exclusive club.

To be sure, the World Cup lets in hoi polloi to give a glimmer of hope and inclusion, but the inner sanctum is usually sealed shut by the semifinals, sending home the pretenders. Not our kind. (Germany Out to Down Brazil)

Check out the four semifinalists this time around. The outsider, the long shot, is merely a three-time finalist, respected all over the world for its Total Football, the open, offensive style that has influenced Spain, the nation; Barcelona, the club; and other appealing offensive systems. (Argentina Await Netherlands)

Yes, the Netherlands, destiny's darling, is known universally as the greatest soccer nation never to win the World Cup. (Brazil, Argentina Aim for Final Berth)

All over the world, the huddled masses like the United States, yearning to be significant, are asking themselves, What does it take to crash that club, to become a regular, a nation that feels at home in the semifinals? How do countries learn that self-assurance that wins dubious referee calls and takes over game-deciding shootouts?

My theory is that insider soccer nations bestow a kind of permission to individual players to be audacious in manner and deed. Young players grew up watching creators like Brazil's Pele or scamps like Argentina's Diego Maradona or cool masterminds like West Germany's Franz Beckenbauer and said, "I want to play like him."

Each of the current semifinalists - Argentina, Brazil, Germany and the Netherlands - has a player who, while still operating within the system, plays with the independence and brashness that can make things happen. Neymar of Brazil, who will miss the rest of the tournament with a fractured vertebra, and Thomas M~CHECK~ller of Germany are vastly different players, but both have the license to make plays. The same is true for little Lionel Messi of Argentina, who vanishes from the radar, runs his own routes, finds his own space and then puts the dagger in the opposing defense, but humbly.

Then there are the Dutch, who play Argentina on Wednesday, bearing the history of four past semifinal appearances that did not lead to a championship but also the self-confidence of a team that belongs. Their swagger is personified by Arjen Robben, 30, who has a remarkable work rate in Brazil's hot, humid climate and who dives and clatters to the earth with danger to himself. Sometimes there is even a reason for his tumbles. (Human note: Robben is 10 years past an operation for testicular cancer. I did not know that until just recently.)

These four nations act as if they've been there - mostly because they have. This is the 13th semifinal in 20 World Cups for the Germans, who won the tournament three times in their previous life as West Germany. It is the 11th for Brazil, a five-time champion. It is the fifth semifinal for the Netherlands and for Argentina, which has won the title twice. (Italy has been in the semifinals eight times, followed by Uruguay and France with five each and Sweden with four.)

The real wonder is that other nations crash the semifinal party at all, the way Turkey and the spirited Reds of South Korea did so refreshingly in 2002.

Turkish fans all over the world - Australia, Europe, Asia - flocked to Saitama, Japan, for the semifinal against Brazil, a 1-0 loss. South Korean fans swarmed public viewing places all over their country to watch the Germany match in Seoul, a 1-0 loss. Was it the Asian setting that freed up two outsider teams to outlast most of the establishment teams? After the normally avoidable consolation match, won by Turkey, the two teams took a victory lap together, cheered by the proud Korean fans. Outsiders rock. They just don't make it this far very often.

In U.S. sports, we celebrate total outsiders - Texas Western winning the college basketball tournament in 1966, Butler reaching the finals twice. Not that long ago, teams like the Chicago White Sox, the then-Florida Marlins and the Arizona Diamondbacks won our so-called World Series. Good pitching, probably. Not a factor in soccer.

Over eight World Cups in person, I have found that the group stage may be the most fun, allowing modest nations to have their moments - Trinidad and Tobago drawing with Sweden in 2006, Algeria getting out of the first round this time. But then the hopefuls fall off, like booster rockets on a shuttle launch.

The last outsider to go this time was Costa Rica, with its bouncy goalkeeper, Keylor Navas. The Ticos bravely lasted 120 minutes against the Netherlands on Saturday, but just before the shootout, the Dutch coach, Louis van Gaal, made the extremely rare move of inserting a reserve keeper, Tim Krul, with a long reach.

Krul walked around disdainfully, sniffing and staring at the Costa Rica shooters, clearly trying to blast his will into their heads. Whether or not they paid attention, two of the five were stopped. The Dutch masters won.

Are there implications for an aspiring third-world soccer nation? The United States has qualified for seven straight World Cups, building a history of success, near misses, hallowed players, masterful coaches and glorious moments. Now Jurgen Klinsmann goads the players to seek the Champions League level, to go out and get better.

Still, the United States has yet to develop the one feral superstar who can annihilate with a glare, like Michael Jordan, or dominate with a locker-room oath, like Larry Bird.