Waiting for the boys from Brazil

Mary Hannigan joins supporters who were desperately seeking Brazilian footballers outside their Dublin hotel yesterday

The Celtic Tours coach reversed into the Burlington Hotel car-park. Autograph books were creased open on clean pages, pens at the ready. Three Chinese students checked their digital cameras. All set. A Brazilian television crew made sure its batteries were recharged. Full steam ahead. The wait was over: the world champions had arrived.

The coach door opened. Deep breath. The first passenger reversed out, slowly. Deeper breath. Eh? The elderly American lady had heard all about Irish hospitality but never expected to be photographed by Chinese students or filmed by a Brazilian television crew on her arrival at her Dublin hotel. ("Leroy? You won't believe this . . .").

The passenger who disembarked after her was older. As was the next one, and the next one, and the . . . "They don't look as athletic in the flesh, do they? The Brazilians, like." If looks could exterminate. "Sorry."

These people had waited most of the day, in anticipation of ambushing Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos in the foyer on their arrival, only to be told Ronaldo and Roberto Carlos had arrived earlier that morning and were now bedroom-bound.

What about Ronaldinho? Is he here? "Don't know." No offence, like, but with those teeth and that hair you could hardly miss him. If looks could exterminate. "Sorry." Things looking grim. Desperately seeking an angle.

Did you travel all the way from home to see the Brazilians? "Yes." Brilliant! Pencil sharpened. Beijing? Shanghai? That other place? "Ranelagh".

Right.

Despondency sets in. The wait has been interminable. Are they all already in their rooms? Time to go home? Another coach pulls in. Lou-Beth from Arkansas? No. Just Cafu. World Cup winning captain.

Did you ever wonder why one of the greatest full backs with whom this earth has ever been graced, one who has over 100 Brazilian caps and two World Cup-winning medals, goes by the name of "Cafu", rather than what's on his birth cert: Marcos Evangelista de Moraes?

Between the door of his coach and the lift to his hotel floor he probably scribbled as many autographs as he has caps. If he'd signed himself "Marcos Evangelista de Moraes" he'd barely make it back to AC Milan before Christmas 2009.

Beamed, too, for every photograph. Most of which featured the Ranelagh Chinese students. Almost needed to be resuscitated at the end. "Cafuuuuu," they sighed, "Cafuuuuu." Who's that beside him? "Don't know. Julio Baptista, maybe."

The midfielder who can't leave Seville unless someone agrees to pay them €36 million? And he's one of Brazil's lesser known players? "Could be Kaka."

The 21-year-old who had a quiet debut for Brazil, apart from scoring with his first touch, and has had a modest enough first season with AC Milan, apart from being described by Carlo Ancelotti as "the new Platini" and "Milan's answer to Francesco Totti" by Gazzetta dello Sport? Another of the squad's hardly-knowns? Where's Roberto Carlos? Need a word.

"Why?" Word has it that he wants to move in to horse racing when he retires.

"Problem?" Well, by all accounts, football and horse racing just don't mix.

Where's Juninho Pernambucano? "He's withdrawn from the squad, knee injury."

So, Brazil are left with only 10 of their World Cup winning starting line-up for tomorrow's game? Plus Kaka, Julio Baptista and nine other also-rans, like Adriano, who joined Inter Milan from Parma for over €20 million last month? "Yes." Arra, God love them.