I started newspaper life as a sportswriter, right around the time that Ohio high schools began discovering there was an alternative to football they could provide for their male athletes in the fall (girls' sports were unheard of at the time). Actually, people everywhere in the world had been calling this new thing football (or futbol) for years, but since that name was already taken in America, here it was simply soccer. And suddenly, many of the newly minted soccer coaches started saying things like, 'Soccer is the wave of the future,' and that it wouldn't be long before the sport the world knew as football supplanted the one we knew as football in popularity. I duly reported that optimistic prediction in more than one story, while doing my best to suppress a dubious smile. A half-century on, we're still waiting for that day. But the most recent World Cup – the second to be played in North America – is now history. And there is no arguing that the United States isn't catching up to an appreciation of why the rest of the world calls it, in the words of Brazilian icon Pelé, 'o jogo bonito' – the beautiful game. USA Today tells us that a total of 6,810,966 fans crowded into stadiums to watch the 48 qualifying national teams compete in 104 matches across Canada, Mexico and the United States. That's an average of 65,490 per game, at obscene ticket prices, filling the various venues to 99.7% capacity. Not all of those were Americans, of course. Maybe not even most. The U.S. State Department had predicted as many as 10 million international visitors would flood the 11 host cities to watch the games, or at least participate in the hoopla, and the evidence suggests that estimation was not far off. But that doesn't mean Americans weren't captivated by the spectacle. The final between Spain and Argentina was the most-watched English language soccer telecast in U.S. history, with 38.9 million viewers on the Fox network. Another 23.9 million watched it on the U.S. Spanish language Telemundo broadcast. Added together, that's practically Super Bowl territory. The total viewership around the planet for the tournament is a bit harder to find, but cumulative estimates in the past for how many people tune in to watch at least part of one game have run in the tens of billions. I'm no stranger to soccer. My daughter played soccer. Three of my grandchildren have played. As a result, I've watched uncounted games. And I admired the Olympic runs of the Mia Hamm-Brandi Chastain-Alex Morgan-Hope Solo teams of those eras. So I've tried, sincerely, to like it, knowing that I'll be marked down as a knuckle-dragging, football-loving Neanderthal if I can't muster the appropriate appreciation. But – and I say this with all respect for the players who are among the finest, most fit athletes you'll find anywhere, and the fans who love them – I just don't understand the attraction. For one thing, I get so anxious during the interminable soccer matches that I can't relax. Up and down the field – back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth – with every thrust being turned away. Almost … almost … almost … almost … then you glance away and you hear the announcer say 'Goallllll!' and you've missed perhaps the only score of the game. Spain beat Argentina in the World Cup finals 1-0, with the only goal coming after 105 scoreless minutes. The rules are imponderable, at least to me. My son-in-law has tried for years to explain offside to me, without it ever being understandable. Offside makes sense in our football. But in their football, you get punished for beating the defender down the field, er, pitch. It would be as if a wide receiver got behind the defensive back and caught a touchdown pass – but then it's nullified because he's not allowed to do that. Perhaps you saw the play when Portuguese star Cristiano Ronaldo scored a game-tying goal against Croatia, only to have it disallowed for offside after a replay caught part of his shoulder 'in an offside position,' as they say, that seemed to have no impact on the play. I understood none of the explanations. Then there are the penalties: Yellow cards and red cards, seemingly cast randomly. And the dreaded red card not only removes the offender from the game, but makes his team play the rest of the match a man short. Plus, he's banished from the next game as well. The controversial red card that got U.S. star player Folarin Balogun bounced from the game against Bosnia and Herzegovina came after he was trying to kick the ball and inadvertently stepped on his opponent's foot. If that happened in American football there wouldn't be anyone left to play the game by the second half. Ted Diadiun And consider the histrionics the players go through after they believe they've been fouled. They writhe on the ground as if they'll need to be helicoptered off … then, after the decision is rendered, they leap up and resume racing down the pitch. These guys make the Cavaliers' famous flopper Anderson Varejao look positively stoic by comparison. Back in my early days of experiencing soccer, I'll admit I was dismissive. The only thing that made me care about the sport was that soccer players began to make good placekickers in real football. But I'm trying to develop some passion for the game. So many people do, it must be worth the effort. When I was in high school, our gym teachers prescribed a couple weeks of learning soccer (they probably didn't know what offside was, either). Then we'd play a game. With all of us football players out there smashing into each other, almost every game ended in a fight. So when I saw the end of the final World Cup game, and the frustrated, losing Argentinians started brawling with the Spanish players after it was over, it all began to have a familiar feel. Yeah, I thought. So we were doing it right all along.… Ted Diadiun is a member of the editorial board of cleveland.com and The Plain Dealer. To reach Ted Diadiun: tdiadiun@cleveland.com Have something to say about this topic? * Send a letter to the editor, which will be considered for print publication. * Email general questions, comments or corrections regarding this opinion article to Elizabeth Sullivan, director of opinion, at esullivan@cleveland.com.