"ONCE in a lifetime," Damian Snagg said. "You only see this once."
He was absolutely right. In Flatbush, Brooklyn, right there on the television yesterday, Trinidad and Tobago was trying to qualify for the World Cup. It had never happened before.
Trinidad and Tobago had come heartbreakingly close in 1989, however, when Paul Caligiuri of the United States put the boot to the two-island nation on the final day of qualifying.
Americans remember that day with a touch of sadness and guilt. Never have we seen such sportsmanship as we saw that November day in Port of Spain. The stunned fans, all of them wearing red, patted American journalists on our backs, congratulating us, as if we had anything to do with it.
Caligiuri remembers that day, not only for his booming 25-yard goal in the first half, but also for the way the Yanks were treated after the game.
''We arrived in two little vans and walked right through the crowd,'' Caligiuri recalled the other day. Then, after the 1-0 victory, the United States had to leave in the same two flimsy vans.
''I've played in Latin America and the Caribbean, where they throw rocks at you, the military police have to stop them from rocking your bus,'' Caligiuri continued. ''Never, ever, did you hear people congratulate you the way people did in Trinidad. The guys started giving them paraphernalia -- our shin guards, our headbands, anything. We appreciated it so much. Normally, you'd be ducking down in your seat.''
That was the start of a rising American era of soccer -- five straight World Cups as of next year. But 16 years was a long time for T&T to wait for another chance. All over the world, there are smaller nations trying to reach the World Cup just once, for a chance to play Brazil and Germany. These ethnic supporters mysteriously do not show up on television ratings, but they are all over the United States.
Half a dozen men from the islands, who play for the Synergism S.C. of Brooklyn, were fidgeting in Derek Marshall's apartment yesterday, watching good old Fox Soccer Channel. Either T&T, with a population of 1.1 million, or Bahrain, with a population of 727,000, would become the smallest nation to reach the World Cup. Because of a road goal in the 1-1 draw in Trinidad last Saturday, Bahrain would qualify with a scoreless tie at home yesterday, a huge advantage.
Marshall, a friend of a friend of a friend, had invited me to root with his countrymen yesterday. I don't mind admitting it: I came to root, wearing a red shirt. Before the game, I rang up Caligiuri, now the men's and women's coach at Cal Poly Pomona in California.
''I am rooting for them,'' Caligiuri said the other day. ''Every place I go, there's somebody from Trinidad. They look at me and say, 'I am Trinidadian.' I just want them to win so I can get off parole.''
I handed my cellphone to Marshall, Snagg and Earl Boyce. Caligiuri invited them to visit sometime. Their laughter seemed like a good omen. We ate spicy jerk chicken, rice and beans and drank beer. (Marshall had supplied Beck's, and I had brought some St. Pauli Girl -- two great minds thinking alike: German beer for good luck.)
Early in the first half, Chris Birchall, the English-born minor leaguer whose mother is from Trinidad and who had scored the 30-yard Caligiurian-style boomer last Saturday, was injured and had to leave the game. This was not a good omen.
T&T was clearly the better team -- but without a goal, its stutter steps and deft passes would be worthless. The score was 0-0 at halftime. Early in the second half, Dwight Yorke took a corner kick. Once a top striker in England, Yorke was facing the possibility of never playing in a World Cup, like George Weah of Liberia and Ryan Giggs of Wales and George Best of Northern Ireland.
Yorke whacked a high, curving kick, and Dennis Lawrence, all 6 feet 7 inches, rose above the sparse Bahrain defense and headed the goal between a defender's sluggish ankles. In Flatbush, pandemonium began.
Now began the scary part. Marshall, our host, kept telling the defenders, ''Get back, get back, that's what soccer is all about.'' We writhed as Bahrain stripped the ball from the goalkeeper for an apparent goal, only to have the referee nullify the play, ruling a foul had been committed against the goalkeeper. Marshall, who knows the game, thought the referee was wrong, but the call stood.
As the final whistle blew for a 1-0 victory, we all stood up and traded high-fives. I reached Paul Caligiuri's answering machine, and Brian George, Dave Dean and Henry Inniss and the others chanted ''Ger-ma-ny! Ger-ma-ny!'' into the phone. The sporting gesture of that crowd in Port of Spain in 1989, 16 long years ago, had been rewarded.
