Here is national pride or patriotism at its strongest: the good, the bad and the ugly. The flag-waving and anthem-playing we saw at the recent Winter Games in Salt Lake City was only a pale imitation of the World Cup, the greatest sports event in the world, for my money. When the 11 players march out, side by side, they are accompanied by youngsters and fair play banners, but these two teams are surrogates for entire nations, playing a common game. Our Lads against Their Lads.

Others feel differently about the World Cup, including John MacAloon, a professor of social sciences at the University of Chicago and one of the leading observers of the Olympic movement. "There's nothing bigger than the Olympics, the ritual of the opening ceremony," MacAloon said recently. He said the Olympics "involve some international and humanistic ideals," and added that the World Cup brings up "national passions, including violence."

"There is no ritual in the World Cup. Nobody celebrates humankind in the World Cup," the professor added.

I would answer that scoring a goal is so rare and difficult that its celebration is a triumph for all humanity, except for the opposing nation, of course. I'm tired of the muddled symbols of Olympic ceremonies, and besides, the Olympics involve considerable flag waving and anthem-playing of their own, plus enough grand posturing on a national scale to resemble your basic session of the United Nations.

At the recent Winter Games there were blustering Russian sport officials doing everything but banging a shoe on the table over perceived slights. (Dozens of my sportswriting colleagues leaned over to each other and asked, "How do you spell Khrushchev?" And for the record, he banged his shoe in 1960.) There were also swaggering Americans, annoying Canadians, aggrieved South Koreans, denying Austrians and that now historic figure skating official who told one story one day and another story the next day and will forever be known as The French Judge.

The stories they told were wonderful. Larisa Lazutina, a long-time Russian cross-country skier, explained that her high red blood cell count was because she was having her menstrual period, but officials said it was a sign of a new anti-anemia drug used illegally to increase endurance, and they took away her gold medal. Austrian ski officials insisted the clutter of blood-changing apparatus found in the closet of a rented home near the ski slopes was used for normal health purposes and certainly not for illegal blood-changing by the Austrian skiers who had rented the house. Olympic officials did not buy that story either.

There were attempts to turn these busts into international incidents. Russian sports officials threatened to go home, and their posturing was supported by many citizens back home, but President Vladimir V. Putin seemed to recognize the tactics for what they were‹sour grapes, by a sports program that has sagged, at least temporarily.

The Soviet Union used to dominate the Olympic movement because it had assimilated huge swatches of population and it poured huge amounts of state money into so-called amateur sports. The new, smaller Russia does not have those resources. It is as simple as that.

The squabble over the figure skating judging that produced duplicate gold medals for a Canadian pair was not really between Russia and Canada, two nations with historic ties and decent good will. It was between the skating federation of Russian and the skating federation of Canada‹two powerful but tiny fiefdoms‹and national pride was a mere diversion. "This is a very complex industry, with a lot of careers at stake," MacAloon said. "It is very naïve to think the cold war is being revived," MacAloon added. "This is not to say that Canadians did not feel solidarity, but globalization has changed sports. There are athletes, trainers, doctors, sponsors, whose loyalties extend across national borders."

Russian sports officials also protested some penalties called in a semifinal hockey game against the United States. But many Russian figure skaters live year-round in the US while every hockey professional on the Russian team is employed either in Canada or the US. They grumbled a bit but did not threaten to go home. They were already home.

"This is a mature industry in which national boundaries matter less," MacAloon said.

Examples abound. Johann Muehlegg won three gold medals (the last one was confiscated because of an inconveniently high red blood cell count) while competing for Spain, after a falling-out with German cross-country skiing officials a few years ago. Spanish reporters delighted in asking questions and demanding his response "en Español, por favor."

The only people who seemed happy were Norwegians, who waved the flag, found their way to Norway House up in the hills, drank national beers and celebrated the most medals per capita‹one for every 166,000 citizens‹and in sports in which the citizens actually indulge.

America had plenty to celebrate, including victories by the eminently likeable Sarah Hughes in figure skating and Jim Shea in the skeleton along with the first two Hispanic medal winners and the first three African-American gold medal winners. Alas, most of the world thinks the US is obnoxious, and was not about to change its perceptions because of a few cute Yanks.

The Olympics are fueled by multinational organizations like Nike, which outfit entire squads with no allegiance to the games themselves. Nike also supports the financially distressed national soccer team of Brazil, so it can stick its familiar logo on deities like Ronaldo and Rivaldo.

In the long run, both the Winter Games and Summer Games involve too many esoteric sports, too many tangled loyalties, for my taste. Soccer, however, hits a worldwide nerve.

In most of the world, soccer is either the first or second national sport. Just about everybody has played the game and therefore measures himself or herself with how the national team performs‹ "I could have made that penalty shot." Nobody says that about bobsledding.

Football starts with club loyalties. My friend, Ed Lannert, an old Unicef hand, speaks fluent Arabic and used to delight in asking people if they rooted for Zamalek or Ahly, the Yankees and Mets of Cairo. Ed would invariably shake his head at the answer. Wrong club, he would say mournfully. Got a laugh every time. Then there are the national teams, usually an aggregation of millionaires, brought together for international tournaments. These all-star teams become Our Lads‹until they let us down. Then it is better to spirit them home via a secured military airport rather than have them deplane in public. There are interesting angles all over this year's World Cup. The opening game in Seoul matches the defending champion, France, with its admirable multi-ethnic mix, and its former colony, Senegal, which qualified through laborious early rounds in Africa.

This World Cup has 32 finalists, all of them with something to prove. China comes to its first World Cup coached by a Serbian who lives in Mexico, Bora Milutinovic, who has previously coached Mexico, Costa Rica, the US and Nigeria to the World Cup. There are nations that emerged in the spasms of the past decade‹Slovenia and Croatia, for example. There are the two host nations, Japan and South Korea, hoping not to be embarrassed on home soil. There is Argentina, hoping its superb European-based players will not be affected by the financial problems back home. There is Germany, skulking around in the second tier, inexplicably having a down cycle. There is Brazil, fighting off malaise and scandal. There is Spain, wondering why its rich domestic league cannot launch its national team to dominance. And there is Italy, brooding why its pampered artists always seem to hit the crossbar of life. There is true national angst everywhere. "You have to separate nationalism, which involves hostility to somebody else, from patriotism, which is a celebration of one's own history," MacAloon said.

Personally, I like the fierce pride of soccer fans. I am not talking about the hooligans from England and a few other soccer nations. The Japanese and Korean police are ready for them with water cannons, nets and the prospects of dismal jails. I'm not taking about sociopaths. I'm talking about the generally decent fans around the world who, upon the first off-sides call or botched shot, will commence throwing things at the television. The World Cup touches off these emotions. Even in the soccerphobic United States, just watch if the Yanks should somehow advance into the second round in June. You'll hear millions upon millions screaming, "Those are our boys." The Olympics would seem like a made-for-TV movie, over and done with. The World Cup has that impact. For better or worse, I can hardly wait.

George Vecsey is a longtime sports columnist for The New York Times, and a bestselling author.