Robert's Rules reign in the streets of Liberia

"I miss the people of Liberia as much as they miss me," says Weah today, speaking in a phone interview from the United Arab Emirates where he is currently playing. "But I can't come back, because if I do I could be imprisoned, and the people will have no power to release me. They have no power for anything."

"Soccer is a game of hope and in this country where there's so little of that, that's important," he says. "But it has become impossible to even bring that little hope here."

The government is offended and and angered by Weah.

"We love the guy and I personally would embrace him if he came to town," says Minister of Youth and Sports Max M. Dennis.

"But George should watch what he says and be more circumspect," he says. "In Africa the traditional chief is someone who demands respect and when you have a president like Charles Taylor, who won the popular support of his country democratically, there should be no stain on his tapestry of leadership."

Down the next street corner from the soccer club, in a cramped barbershop, two dozen paying customers are glued to an old battery-powered TV – there is no central electricity in Liberia – watching South Korea beat Poland.

Admission is 20 cents, not a luxury everyone can afford. So the club members pitch in and sponsor a representative to go watch. He, in turn, runs back and forth between the TV site and the club, whispering the play status to the tea man, who takes up a green magic marker and adjusts the scoreboard tacked to the club's back wall.

"We don't always have the opportunity to actually watch the game," admits Mr. Koffar. "But we follow very closely."

There is a lull in the club debate, and someone takes the floor to talk about how Liberia might elevate its own team. "We need George back," he says. Koffar, the moderator, tells him to sit down, unsure of what ears may be listening.

"This is what happens in repressive countries," says Abel, a card-holding member of both the political and the soccer clubs, who declined to give his last name.

"First they constrain our speech on political issues and then those constrictions spread. Soon we will not be able to discuss anything without fear," he says.

The afternoon wears on and the soccer club members proceed, avoiding potentially touchy soccer-related topics, arguing at length about all others. They have nowhere else to go, anyway.

The rain dries up, a sweltering sun beats down. Members order more tea and launch into a new theme: "Cameroon's chances in the game against Germany [next Tuesday] and whether or not Liberians have to root for the African team because they are fellow Africans."

Outside, street boys play soccer with a Sprite can and make goal posts out of mangos. Most dream of better days.

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