My wife is leaving me.

Okay, I lied. But at 7 o'clock this morning, Linda was pretty horrified when she woke up and found me sprawled out on the love seat in front of the televsion, an empty box of Chips Ahoys and a crusty glass of milk at my side. She looked at me in my boxers and black socks, with my three-day beard and greasy hair and said, "You're a fine example to your sons." But that's not what horrified her. My response is what did that.

"Thanks," I said, pointing to the kitchen, where my almost-six-year-old son Tyler sat, holding his own glass of milk and a NutriGrain bar (he's an athlete, I'm not ... no Chips Ahoys for him).

"We're getting ready for the Germany game," Tyler said, knowing full well that he'd only see the first half before having to leave for kindergarten.

"And who's Germany playing?" my wife asked him.

"The Lions," a voice in the distance called. It was my almost-four-year-old son Beau.

"Who are the Lions?" Linda asked.

"Cameroon, " I said.

"That's in Africa," said Tyler (who would have been watching Animal Planet were it not World Cup time).

	It's not hard to separate the serious fans from the rest.

At this point, all Linda could do was pour herself a cup of coffee and join us in front of the tube. A former soccer player and coach, she appreciates the game. She just hasn't become addicted to it like the three boys in her life.

I don't use the word "addiction" lightly here. I mean, even on the nights when I didn't plan on waking up at 2:20 a.m. (I did set my alarm each of the last two nights, first for U.S. vs. South Korea and then for Denmark vs. France), I've awakened to catch a glimpse of at least some of every single early match from Japan and South Korea. The second half of the 4:55 a.m. game has become the standard watch for me and the boys, while the 7:30 a.m. game has become my Match of the Day, so to speak. I watch the whole thing.

Needless to say, I'm showing signs of fatigue. Not just from the odd hours, either. But from my need to go online after games to chat with other addicts about what we're witnessing. See, that's what soccer fans have to do. NBA and NHL fanatics can just turn on their local all-sports radio station and listen in for a while to get a gauge on the temperature of their marquee events. We soccer fans have to create our own forums.

But that's cool. The way I look at it, soccer-bashers don't know what they're missing. I laugh out loud when a guy who can wax poetic over a sacrifice bunt or a perfectly executed relay from the outfield (and I'm one of those guys) can't appreciate a string of one-touch passes in the midfield. I laugh even louder when a guy who'll lock himself in for 20-some consecutive Sundays during the fall says soccer's too low scoring. I also laugh to myself when I ask him, Would you like soccer better if they gave you seven points for every goal and three points for every attack that was stalled in scoring position?

We don't need you guys anyway (but we do find you funny). We'll just keep on keeping these odd hours, watching upsets (France out, Italy and Argentina on the ropes) that make March Madness look tame. We'll enjoy the show that the U.S. is putting on -- getting four points in two matches when most of the world expected them to be punching their ticket home by now -- and won't listen to you if the Americans bow out sometime in the second round and you try to chime in with some ignorant "not ready for prime time" rant. See, we understand -- despite the ridiculous American notion that "second place is for losers" -- that the World Cup is the hardest trophy to win in all of sports because, you see, the whole freaking world plays the game -- and most of it plays it pretty freaking well, too.

And while I'm at it, I (that's me, personally) don't have much tolerance anymore for all you so-called American soccer fans who constantly e-mail me with your "MLS is so lame" garbage and "It's football not soccer" and "I support Chelsea" lines that are supposed to validate you as something other than pathetic. Last time I checked, nine guys who plied their trade in MLS were beating Portugal ... and some guy named Clint, who played college soccer at South Carolina and now plays for the MetroStars, was displaying a killer first-touch and a lethal left foot to give the Americans the goal in their tie with South Korea. You keep talking a good game and using all your "footy" talk. I'll just keep watching the Americans get better.

Don't get me wrong, I watch soccer from all over the world. That's why I've got two dishes on top of my house (now you can see that I married a very special lady), but I don't trash MLS because it happens to be a six-year old league trying to get by in a non-accepting-soccer country, playing in totally inappropriate venues on horrible fields -- and it's still producing some damn good games and some good players!

Anyway, as you can tell, I need some sleep. I'll try to doze a little bit this afternoon, though I know when Tyler gets home from school, he's going to want to do his DaMarcus Beasley impression while Beau pretends to be Brad Friedel. They'll crash happily around eight, or right about the time I start to get edgy with anticipation for Sweden-Argentina and Nigeria-England.

See you online, you sickos.

Jeff Bradley is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at jeff.bradley@espnmag.com.