SOCCER FEVER KICKS IN : LEGIONS OF DEDICATED FANS HAVING A BALL WHILE CHEERING ON L.A.'S GOAL-ORIENTED TEAM.

Byline: Story by Reed Johnson 

The hottest sports team in Los Angeles was about to take the field, and Michael Menerey was trying to explain why the game wouldn't be just a game.

``You gotta understand,'' the 21-year-old cautioned as he sucked down a Bud Light, ``that to people from South America and Europe, soccer is more than a sport. They put their heart and soul into it. It's a passion.''

Passion? How about obsession?

To some, that description may sound extreme. But judging by the ecstatic faithful who flock to home games at the Rose Bowl, the stunning success of the undefeated Los Angeles Galaxy is, at the very least, sweet redemption after decades of second-class sports citizenship.

To its thousands of fans - between half and three-quarters of them Latino, officials say - the Galaxy is not merely the best franchise in the new Major League Soccer, and the only one with a perfect 4-0 record. It's also a focus of intense pride for a community that often feels slighted by mainstream athletic culture.

Those feelings were evident Sunday afternoon, as 16,000 fans descended on Pasadena, banging drums, dribbling soccer balls around the parking lot, wrapping themselves in the flags of their homelands and feasting on grilled chorizo sausage. The festivities dovetailed with traditional Cinco de Mayo celebrations, lending the game the aura of a street fair, national holiday and open-air prayer meeting all rolled into one.

Although Sunday's crowd was only half the previous week's, in part because the game was televised, spirits were no less elevated. When the Galaxy took a 2-1 lead over the hapless Washington, D.C. United, the crowd roared like an invading army. When the home team went up 3-1, shirtless, middle-age men shimmied in the aisles like Las Vegas table dancers.

All in all, it was a show of cultural unity befitting what is probably the only pro sports team in North America with its very own brand-name ``official jalapeno.''

``It's about time soccer started getting big here,'' huffed Matt Didier, cultivating a tan prior to the game, while a Joan Osborne song blared in the background.

Fans brought different agendas. Most simply wanted diversion from the scorching heat. Others came seeking respect for the beloved game, which many Americans still view as only slightly more reputable than tractor pulls.

Still others were trying to pass on the legacy of the world's most popular sport.

Mario Gonzalez, a Salvadoran immigrant attending with his wife, Linda, and two sons, is so enthralled by the Galaxy that he rushed out when the season started and bought a $65 team jersey. He now wears it only on game days.

``He won't wash it until they lose,'' Linda Gonzalez said with a laugh, ``so I hope they lose soon.''

In her native Guadalajara, Linda recalled, ``everybody played soccer.'' She can remember going every Sunday to watch her uncles play, usually followed by a family picnic. She herself played goalkeeper as a kid, and she's sure that the bruises she got were character-building.

To the couple, playing soccer is a rite of assimilation, every bit as important as learning English or developing a taste for Big Macs.

``I want all my sons to play soccer,'' Linda asserted. ``You know, growing up in Los Angeles, you have to give them something. We want to keep soccer in the family.''

Sunday's game was indeed a family affair, without the keg-party crowd that often finds its way into UCLA football home games, also played at the Rose Bowl.

``I wasn't sure that I wanted to be next to the Budweiser tent, but the fans have been great,'' said Carrie Katz, who was promoting the upcoming Mariachi USA Festival at the Hollywood Bowl. Like a number of major corporations, the festival's backers are tempting middle-class Latino consumers, the kind who back the Galaxy.

``They're huge spenders - huge!'' Katz enthused. ``They're very loyal, and they come supporting the team 100 percent - which is good, considering some of the teams that we've lost.''

Galaxy home games aren't your typical Hollywood affairs. True, midfielder/thespian Andrew Shue, the ``Melrose Place'' star, has suited up for a couple matches in what purists have decried as a shameless publicity stunt. But Jack Nicholson hasn't been spotted on the sidelines, and Madonna isn't dating goalie Jorge Campos, at least not yet.

You will find groupies, though, like Sherry Roldan, a Walnut High School junior bearing a sign that read, ``I Love Cobi,'' i.e. midfield glamour boy Cobi Jones, formerly of Westlake High School and UCLA.

So what does Roldan love about the scrappy hometown favorite? Is it his speed? Is it his lethal right foot? Is it his hair?

``It's attractive!'' Roldan declared of Jones' signature dreadlocks. ``It gives him ...'' she paused, groping for the right phrase.

``I don't know!'' she concluded, unperturbed.

It's hard to say what effect Roldan's rooting had on the peripatetic Jones, who barely missed two or three scoring chances. Several Galaxy players have their own private cheering squads, based largely on nationality. According to general manager Danny Villanueva, the most vocal belongs to Mauricio Cienfuegos of El Salvador, whose countrymen were out in force Sunday.

Two of them, Max Aparisio and Jose Moran, warmed up by kicking a basketball back and forth.

``The good thing about it is you come here and you see people from different cultures, different countries,'' Aparisio said. ``You see people from Europe, South America, Central America.''

Then there were the Galaxians, soccer-frenzied cyber-geeks whose 20 or so members met via the Internet. They paraded into the stadium shaking giant rattles and pounding bass drums.

``We made an arrangement with the team to do it,'' explained Paul Antonissen, who was wearing a peace-symbol earring, Mickey Mouse gloves and a blue-and-gold striped hat he described as ``Disney plus Dr. Seuss and the Madhatter.''

``I found it in Venice Beach,'' he said, not needing to elaborate.

But perhaps the crowd's feelings were best summed up by Raul Martinez, a computer technician on leave from his U.S. Air Force base in Germany. In Europe, he noted, pro soccer is front-page news.

``I think Americans just like to be different,'' he speculated. ``I think that's why they invented baseball, basketball and football.''

After the game, as small clusters of fans sat chatting under trees in the parking lot, or listening to banda music, it was clear that the Galaxy, temporary saviors of U.S. soccer, would be cheered in memory long into the night.

The scene was different, all right, just as Martinez had said. And, somehow, very American, too.

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8 Photos

Photo: (1--Cover--Color) What a kick!

Soccer-hungry fans are feasting on L.A.'s newest (and hottest) team

(2--Color) Mario and Linda Gonzalez set up a barbecue in the Rose Bowl parking lot before the soccer match.

(3--Color) Paul Antonissen cheers the Galaxy with a group of drum-beating soccer fans who met on the Internet and dubbed themselves the Galaxians. His game-day outfit includes Mickey Mouse gloves.

(4--5--Color) ``It's about time soccer started getting big here,'' says Matt Didier, above right, with Michael Menerey, in the Rose Bowl parking lot. Jose Moran, right, kicks the ball around before game time.

(6--Color) When it comes to Sherry Roldan's sentiments about Galaxy midfielder Cobi Jones, her sign says it all.

(7) Pasadena's Rose Bowl is drawing legions of soccer fans to see the Los Angeles Galaxy, Major League Soccer's only undefeated team.

Michael Owen Baker/Daily News

(8--Color) The Galaxy's Eduardo Hurtado, center, gets mobbed by teammates Mark Semioli, left, and Cobi Jones following a second-half goal against the Washington, D.C., United.

Myung J. Chun/Daily News