The Jersey City Independent "

An ongoing series on how Jersey City soccer fans — and those who aren’t — watch the games.

White Star Bar’s chef, Roberto Benitez, pours sample-sized bottles of cheap wine into a pitcher, his eyes finding one of the four television screens on the wall above the bar more often than the in-progress container of sangria. The drink comes at the request of Peter Arguelles, the owner and head ironworker at the All Ironworks gallery down the street. This drink order is the first thing he says to Benitez, whom he knows from watching other soccer games at the bar, when he walks into the bar halfway through the first leg of the 2010 World Cup’s opening game — or at about 10:30am.

“It’s a holiday,” he says next. But apparently only for some. “I told my guys at the gallery to come here when they’re done.”

He samples the sangria and continues: “I should be collecting money from clients, but it can wait ’til Monday, right?”

The South African squad has been looking sharp on the pitch; if not efficient then determined, if not beautifully skilled then aware of the moment — it is, after all, the first World Cup game played in Africa. That they’re only given an opportunity to play this year as the host country’s privilege (their FIFA ranking is 83), is at best inconsequential.

ESPN’s research department, ever ready with one or another well-timed statistic, alternately useful and useless, alerts us that this impassioned play is typical of opening days — the host country, often the underdog, is 14-0-5 all time. But overall South Africa still looks overmatched by today’s opponent, Mexico (which has a FIFA ranking 66 spots up, at 17). That Mexico would be heavily favored is evidenced by their quick touches and pitch-vision, and their prescience at where passes will at some point end up. Even the English announcer pays a somewhat backhanded compliment to them, noting how well they played in a recent loss to the English national team. He says they’re vulnerable to set pieces and that South Africa hopes to take advantage of that, but first they need to earn one.

Meanwhile, Kelly Deal, the bartender, seems more or less equally interested in texting as the game. This is progress, apparently. During the last World Cup she was working at an Irish bar, and when the owner found out she’d never before watched a World Cup he became incensed. After that she’s watched, sometimes. But if it’s not baseball, and if the team isn’t the Mets, she’s just not as interested.

“People come in asking for games on the weekends, and I’ll watch those, especially the bigger EUFA [Union of European Football Associations] Champions League games,” she says. “We’re known for showing those games, so I’m a little surprised no one’s here yet.”

That it’s still morning on a Friday, that there are more televisions (ten) than people (four), even if you count bar owner Matt Kopec and his father occasionally poking their heads in to watch, doesn’t seem to factor in to this surprise. The lack of crowd makes today a bit of a disappointment so far, but Kopec just talks about the USA-England game coming the next day, which he knows will be packed (the next day, it is).

A phone in the bar rings, and Deal, who picks it up, starts telling the caller that they’ll be opening for the 7:30am games as well, when Kopec cuts her off: “No, tell them to get cable, we’re not opening that early.” Apparently the last time they opened before 8 am the bar’s patrons just ate the free bagels and ordered coffee. “It’s not worth the headache,” he says.

Arguellas tries to offer Deal a glass from the pitcher of sangria, but she just holds up a pint of ice coffee. “Some of us have to work today,” she reminds.

Just before noon the bar’s regulars and the Ironworks gallery workers start showing up. The score is tied at one, and both teams seem ready to accept the outcome — the Mexican team reluctantly. Benitez, who is from Argentina, has to step away from the game to cook, but before he leaves he mentions that if he was back home he wouldn’t have to be working. “Everyone takes off,” he says, perhaps a bit wistful, or momentarily homesick.

Next to me sits Thom McIntosh, a pharmacist at Christ Hospital, who has come in for lunch, which is part of his daily routine. He doesn’t have any real interest in the World Cup.

“I’m still waiting for football season,” he says, watching the action on screen like an alien entity. He asks John Fitzpatrick, the man who sits between us, what he makes of soccer. Fitzpatrick simply shrugs: “You can’t touch it with your hands, right?” When I ask him what he does when he’s not at the White Star he just says, “I go to a different bar.” They watch the game with the same attitude as they eat their food — perhaps because it’s in front of them, perhaps to find out what all the hype is about. They seem satisfied with both, and start asking questions about the rules and the structure of the tournament.

Next Arguellas introduces me to one of his employees, a man who asks to have his name withheld. Someone says it’s because he still owes child support and he doesn’t want the authorities to know where he’s been hiding. Everyone laughs, but from his red face and evasive response it’s unclear how much of this is a joke.

The man watches the game with an attentive knowledge that sets him apart from many of the other patrons. He reminisces about his time playing for the Greenville travel soccer team some 25 years ago, in particular the undercard game they played opening for the soon-to-be defunct New York Cosmos at Giants Stadium. He scored a goal that day in front of thousands of soccer fans. The goalie came out too far from the box, he recalls, and he chipped a shot above his head and just out of reach.

“But soccer still wasn’t too popular then, and I got more into American sports,” he says. “I still miss it though.”

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