His book, “Bloody Confused,” is hilarious and insightful. It’s a very good conversion story from an expat:

http://www.amazon.com/Bloody-Confused-Clueless-American-Sportswriter/dp/0767928083

I grew up in South Georgia where in my generation the only football was on friday night.

My transformation to Soccer (Futbol) fanatic was a slow evolution.

My first encounter was the 94 World Cup. I was throwing a party in south Georgia and one guy insisted on watching the fuzzy ABC station as the U.S. played. We thought he was odd but he was a yankee and soccer was a yankee sport.

In 98, I was at the beach when the World Cup came on. We had another soccer fan with us and we all became fascinated. He patiently explained things like “offsides” and “injury time”. Bloody marys and a world cup match became a morning ritual.

2002 was such a special year. During the World Cup, I was commuting to Kansas City (yes from Atlanta to Kansas City). With the games being played in Japan/Korea, the first came on at about 4:00am and the second at about 7:30am. My morning hotel ritual became catching the recap of the first match and as much of the second match as possible while getting dressed for work.

I was finally able to come home permanently just prior to the quarterfinal match with Germany. I rolled down to the Brewhouse at about 6:30am. It was already so crowded, I had to stand on the sidewalk. But they had big screens and everyone could see. That was the first time I truly felt the heartbreak of being so close to victory on the international stage.

That day, I swore that I would learn soccer and start following the European version more closely. But like many promises made in the heat of the moment, I soon forgot.

Then 2006 came around with all its expectations. I staggered down to Twain’s every day for their beer and breakfast buffet. Of course the U.S. dreams came to an end at the hands of Ghana. As crushed as I was, my clearest memory was the three Ghanaians in the room crying and hugging and dancing.

At that moment, I vowed to understand this game. I wanted to feel emotion like they did.

So I picked a team – Blackburn Rovers (I won’t waste more space describing how I made that choice, but it’s pretty funny. The Beatles were involved). And I got digital cable – Fox Soccer Channel. And I subscribed to the Rovers fan letter. And I learned everything I could about the history of the team, the current squad and Mark ‘Sparky’ Hughes.

Within one year, I went from not understanding relegation to screaming “BENTS, BENTS, BENTS” over and over again in my living room, by myself, after another wicked strike by David Bentley.

Now, being a rabid fan, I soon began to share the gospel. Recently, I was at my favorite bar watching the Confederations Cup and this good ol’ boy sitting next to me said “I just don’t get it”. I turned to him and said, “let me explain it to you like NASCAR…most people don’t understand all the weird rules – but you do and that’s what makes it special, you love your driver and you hate other drivers, if you love Ford – you hate Chevy, sometimes the stuff that goes on before and after the race is just as fun as what goes on in the race and when your driver wins on a last lap pass your jumping out of your seat flinging beer everywhere. That’s the way it is in soccer too”.

He looked at me for a minute, then said “that makes sense” and went back to watching the match.