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'Wave yuh bandanas' The Guardian (UK)It is the smallest nation ever to win a place in the World Cup finals. Now Trinidad and Tobago face England. Blake Morrison joins the team, on islands ablaze with excitement I'm a Soca Warrior, win or lose I'm a fighter
I'm a Soca warrior, come to shine my nationality brighterFrom Fighter, by Maximus DanA winter's night in Loftus Road, west London, where Trinidad and Tobago are playing a warm-up match for the World Cup. Warm-up is a misnomer: it's bitterly cold, with temperatures more associated with Nordic icefields than with Caribbean beaches. Iceland, aptly enough, provide the opposition tonight, and their team boasts three players from the Premiership. T&T's only well-known names are Dwight Yorke, once attached to Manchester United (and to Katie Price, aka Jordan), and Shaka Hislop, goalkeeper at West Ham United. Yet T&T - or the Soca Warriors as they're called - are fazed neither by the opposition nor by playing in Shepherd's Bush. In fact, it feels like a home game. And it's not just Trinbagonians who have turned out in force - the man in front is waving a Bahamian flag, "in solidarity, man". Drums are beating somewhere above us. It's a football crowd - amiable, enthusiastic and 90% black - such as my son and I have never experienced before.
The outcome of the match isn't important. But Yorke helps the carnival atmosphere by scoring early on. And there's further excitement at half time, thanks to a score of bikini-clad dancers, who brave the freezing conditions to sashay along the touchline. The crowd cheer the girls on, but there are no shouts for them to get their tits out for the lads - the crowd is 50% female, after all. As the temperature plummets in the second half, the Iceland team begin to find their feet. But T&T hold firm: since 15 of the squad play their football in England and Scotland, for clubs such as Luton, Coventry, Wrexham, Falkirk, Dundee and Southampton, they're well used to the kick-and-rush frenzy of northern European football. There's even a white player on the team, Chris Birchall of Port Vale, as blond as any Icelander but the heart of T&T's midfield.
With a population of 1.3 million, T&T are the smallest country ever to qualify for the World Cup finals. But anyone who imagines that their getting there was a fluke - that they're going to Germany merely to make up numbers - will be disabused by the football they're playing tonight. Certainly the crowd have every confidence in them. When Yorke (wearing the number 19 shirt he used to wear at Man U) steps up to take a penalty, there's none of the usual hush or tension you get with spot-kicks - the drums keep drumming and the hands keep clapping. Yorke responds by cheekily chipping the ball home in slow motion. 2-0. And that's how it stays.
As my son and I head for home, we talk about several players who caught our eye, none of whom we'd heard of before tonight: Collin Samuel, for instance, a pacy left-winger, and Russell Latapy, who has some of the stylishness of Ronaldinho. We talk about the atmosphere, too: if every match had the raucous, rhythmical accompaniment of tonight's, we'd enjoy watching football even more than we do. OK, it was only a friendly against Iceland. But suddenly we're interested: who are these guys, and how did they get to Germany, and why all the music, and what does qualification mean to the people of Trinidad and Tobago? More to the point: can it really be assumed that England (who're in the same group, with Sweden and Paraguay) have nothing to fear?
We'll be liming in Leipzig,
Liming in Berlin...
From Soca Warriors, by TNT Soca Boys
Port of Spain, the capital of Trinidad, is no tranquil holiday-brochure dream. Despite the proud, indigenous tradition of "liming" - of hanging out with friends over a Carib beer or rum and Coke - it's not easy for a visitor to feel laid-back: the streets are frantic, the seafronts polluted by ships that crowd the port, your ears battered by the sound of new buildings going up. Above all, there's the traffic. Forty years ago, revisiting the town where he grew up, VS Naipaul complained of car-clogged streets. Now congestion is so bad that the government is considering restoring the island's railway system, which closed in 1968.
Naipaul is arguably Trinidad's most famous son. But because of his portrayal of the place, in his travel book The Middle Passage ("unimportant, uncreative, cynical... no nationalist feeling... the cosmopolitanism on which Trinidad prides itself is fraudulent"), there's more affection for writers such as CLR James, Earl Lovelace, Samuel Selvon and the poet Derek Walcott, who was born in St Lucia but later moved to Port of Spain. In Trinidad, in any case, "culture" doesn't mean writers, it means carnival. And, in populist terms, the greatest living celebrities are two sportsmen: the sprinter Ato Boldon and the cricketer Brian Lara, who has a promenade named after him downtown.
When I arrived in Trinidad in early May, the papers were full of sensation and scandal: chief justice threatened with impeachment; telly evangelist's visit in doubt after he refers to T&T as "voodooland"; 39 British police officers hired to help fight rising crime in Tobago; feared "terrorist bomb" in Independence Square ("one person a bit seriously injured, two others slightly") caused by explosion of nut-vendor's stove. The big news, though, was the forthcoming friendly against Peru, T&T's last game before leaving for Europe. Every bank and phone company on the island seemed to be cashing in on it ("The Soca Warriors want you to save and win with the First Citizens Neo Youth Account"), and both the president, George Maxwell Richards, and the prime minister, Patrick Manning, had promised to attend (imagine the Queen and Tony Blair turning up for an England friendly).
Despite the euphoria, two controversies overshadowed the match, the first involving player selection: who would be picked? But the players concerned weren't footballers, they were musicians. In Trinidad, football and music are inextricable: even the nickname of the national team, the Soca Warriors, is a musical pun, soca - or sokah - being the form that replaced calypso and reggae in the 70s, and that now dominates the annual carnival each spring. Since T&T qualified for the World Cup finals last November, dozens of songs have been written toasting their success, with many an ingenious rhyme on the word "Germany" and many a plea for fans to "wave yuh bandanas" and "vibes it up". The popular choice is Maximus Dan's Fighter, but the official anthem is a bland calypso number written by two men from Leeds. If there were grumbles about that, worse still was the government's dithering over which performers to invite to Europe. "Panmen vex over W/cup silence" ran the headline in Trinidad and Tobago Newsday on the morning of the Peru game. At least six different steel bands were hoping for a place on the "cultural mission" - Pan Groove, Playboyz, Desperadoes, Exodus, bpTT Renegades and Trinidad All Stars. But with less than a month to go, no one had yet had the call.
The other row was about ticket prices. For the Peru game at the Hasely Crawford Stadium, these had been set at 300 and 500 T&T dollars ("absolutely no complimentaries"), more than twice as much as usual, and out of the reach of most people. For a local government worker, for example, earning around 140 T&T dollars a day (that's to say, £70 a week), going to the match would mean setting aside half a week's wages, the equivalent of a local government worker in the UK forking out £250 or £300. Anyone wanting shade - three-quarters of the stadium is uncovered - would have to pay even more. Was this any way to treat the people of Trinidad as they said goodbye and good luck to their World Cup team?
Under the tickets row were rumblings of deeper discontent. Thanks to its oil and gas reserves, Trinidad is currently enjoying an economic boom. There are sharp divisions between rich and poor, all the same, and a great deal of crime in less privileged areas: by early May, the murder toll for the year had already reached 145. This is why the government, and every progressive-minded agency in the country, is keen to exploit the football team's success - in the hope that the feelgood factor will help cure the social unrest, the industrial strikes, the violence, the drug wars, the poverty in the suburbs and shantytowns. Or if not cure the problems, at least make everyone forget them for a few weeks.
It's not mere social engineering; the sense of elation is real enough. "They have no idea of country, and no pride of race," Trollope once wrote of West Indians, and other visitors down the years have left with an impression of a people too sun-drenched to care about anything except calypso, sex or ganja (despite it being illegal on T&T to grow, possess or sell cannabis). But nearly everyone I spoke to - from the flight attendant on the plane coming over to the man selling shark and bake on Maracas beach - spoke of their pride and patriotism since last November. The title of one of Trinidad's favourite World Cup songs is We Reach, meaning, "We've qualified". To the untrained ear, "We're rich" is how it sounds - rich in self-esteem, if not in possessions. The ambiguity couldn't be more pertinent.
Tell dem we reach.
Everybody reach
Go and tell yuh family
We goin World Cup in Germany
I want yuh to reach in yuh pocket,
I want yuh to take out yuh flag.
Wave it and show the world
We reach (Jump up, jump up)
Everybody reach.
From We Reach, by Iwer George
The story of T&T's qualification for the 2006 World Cup finals is an epic in itself. Progressing through a preliminary round against such mighty local opposition as St Kitts and Nevis, they went into a group of six teams from the Conacaf region, and after three games - defeat at home to the US, a humiliating 5-1 loss to Guatemala and a draw with Costa Rica - they sat at the bottom of the group, with just one point. Such ignominy wasn't unfamiliar: in 1997, T&T lost to lowly Martinique and finished with eight men; in 2000, they were thrashed 7-0 by Mexico. But there are men behind the team who had higher ambitions for 2006, not least the fixer and Fifa vice-president Jack Warner. So in March last year the coach, Tobago-born Bertille St Clair (the man who discovered the six-year-old Dwight Yorke), was given the push and the experienced Dutchman, Leo Beenhakker, took over. Under the new regime, the team had a bright start, beating Panama, but then lost their next two matches. To stand any chance of making even the fourth place play-off spot, the team needed to win three of their four remaining games. The situation looked hopeless.
It still looked dodgy halfway through the final group game against Mexico last October, despite wins against Panama and Guatemala in the intervening months: with Mexico a goal in front and T&T's rivals for the play-off spot, Guatemala, ahead in their game, the Soca Warriors were on their way out. To make things worse, they missed a penalty. But then Coventry striker Stern John scored twice, and T&T held out for a rare victory over the Mexicans to earn a play-off against Bahrain.
The team had been strengthened since the start of the campaign by the return of Yorke and "the little magician", Russell Latapy, both of whom came out of retirement from international football, knowing Germany would be their last chance to shine on the world stage (Yorke is 34 and Latapy 37). Beenhakker had also acquired the services of Chris Birchall, who grew up in Stoke-on-Trent, is as white as potter's clay and had once dreamed of representing England. Two years ago, Birchall had no idea that he might be eligible for T&T, but his mother, Jenny, was born in Trinidad, and after another T&T player, Dennis Lawrence, asked him about this, midway through a pre-season friendly at Wrexham ("You got Trini blood in you, man?"), the necessary paperwork was quickly completed. Birchall's value to the side became clear in the home leg of the play-off against Bahrain, when he equalised with a 30-yard screamer.
That still left T&T with a daunting task: an away leg in Bahrain, after only drawing 1-1 at home. Worse still, those with memories knew the team had twice before blown it from a similar position. In 1973, they lost 2-1 to Haiti, despite putting the ball in the opposition net five times, in a match that led to the Salvadorean referee and Canadian linesman being banned for life. More bitter still was the experience of 1989, when a buoyant T&T team, nicknamed the Strike Squad and featuring the young Latapy and Yorke, needed only a draw at home to the US to progress to the finals in Italy. The crowds in Port of Spain were so large that day that the T&T team had no time to observe their ritual of stopping off at church on the way to the game; and when they arrived at the stadium they were besieged by fans who'd bought tickets but couldn't get in, because the match (through a ticketing racket) had been oversold. Distracted and overawed, they lost 1-0. There are some in Trinidad, including the 1973 team member and 1989 coach Everald "Gally" Cummings, who have never got over those two defeats - and who feared the worst last November, in Bahrain.
It was a case of third time lucky, though. In the second half, the 6ft 7in defender Dennis Lawrence ambled up for a corner, rose above the melee and headed home. The final minutes were bedlam, with the referee manhandled after disallowing a Bahrain goal and a home player called Ali Baba shown the red card. But T&T hung on. At the final whistle, the crowd turned ugly. Seats were ripped up and bottles and ice blocks thrown, and rather than enjoying a lap of honour the T&T players were ushered away under police escort. (On the same night, there was more widely publicised violence at the Turkey-Switzerland play-off.) Very different scenes greeted the team on their arrival home, after the prime minister declared a public holiday. Huge crowds gathered at Piarco airport, and schoolchildren lined the roads into the capital. "The team has done for Trinidad and Tobago what many politicians have failed to do," Patrick Manning said, "bringing together people of every race, class and persuasion."
Let me see the players
Let me see the players on Jah Jah team...
One goal, one mission, one dream, one vision
One God, one kingdom, so make your decision
Come join the legion to crush the demons
Get back yuh freedom, liberate yuh nation...
All you got to do is play for the true King
From Jah Jah Team, by Maximus Dan
Manning's tribute to the team for unifying the nation is a tacit acknowledgment of Trinidad's dividedness. Current figures put its population at 40% black, 40% Indian, 19% mixed race and 1% white. With the indigenous Carib population all but wiped out by the Spanish before the end of the 18th century, the country was settled by French planters and their African slaves. After emancipation, many slaves moved to urban areas, leaving a labour shortage on the plantations. Hence the arrival, after the mid-1850s, of 145,000 Indians, mostly from Calcutta. And hence the distinction, ever since, between West Indians (Afro-Caribbean) and East Indians (more of them Hindu than Muslim).
Trinidad is rightly proud of its multi-ethnic, mutually tolerant ethos; there's far less racial tension here than in most countries. The differences are very apparent, all the same. It's the East Indians who play most of the cricket, whereas the national football squad - as first names such as Avery, Marvin, Dennis, Russell and Cyd suggest - is almost exclusively Afro-Caribbean; there's not a single brown face on the team.
Religion is also part of the mix - or lack of mix. On the day before the match against Peru, I talked to Silvio Spann, a midfielder whose father Leroy also played for T&T in 1989. The family genes clearly helped Silvio ("I was already kicking a football inside my mother's stomach"), but when asked to explain the secret of the team's success, he put it down to God: "I'm a Christian, and I was brought up to believe that whatever talents you were born with you should use. That strong Christian faith is where most of the energy comes from." For an English player to talk like this would be as risky as owning up to being gay. But Spann's religiosity is mild compared with that of his team-mate Marvin Andrews, a deacon and preacher who attributes every goal scored by his club, Glasgow Rangers, to an assist from Jesus or God. Earlier in his career, at Raith Rovers, Andrews refused a groin operation and went to a faith healer instead, with "miraculous" results. He himself now practises the laying on of hands, at the Zion Praise International church in Kirkcaldy. If the two teams weren't in the same group, Sven could have called on him to fix Wayne Rooney's metatarsal.
Though religion and race bind the team together, there are more pragmatic reasons for T&Ts success: namely the coach, the agent and the fixer. The coach, Leo Beenhakker, now 63, had a long and successful career in club football, coaching at Ajax, Feyenoord, Real Zaragoza and Real Madrid, as well as managing both the Dutch and Saudi Arabian national sides; his assistant is Wim Rijsbergen, who played for Holland in the 1974 and 1978 World Cups. When I caught up with Beenhakker the day before the Peru game, he confirmed what others had already told me: that the task, when he came, was to transform a bunch of individuals into a team; that he accomplished it by creating a settled squad (none of Sven's whimsical experiments); that every player now knows what he's meant to do, so "there are no doubts". White-haired, with a small cigar in hand, Beenhakker looks like a raddled version of Sven. But he's also a disciplinarian, and as I watched him monitoring the PR demands on his players - to sign shirts, to pose for pictures, to be in Port of Spain at all, when he'd have preferred to skip the friendly against Peru and keep them in Europe - I sensed a certain frustration with Caribbean ways. Committed though he is to the team, he has a history of moving on quickly and few expect him to stay long after Germany.
If the T&T team is better equipped to cope with the challenges of Europe, that's also because of agents such as the Liverpudlian Mike Berry, director of Imageview Management in Manchester, who, having secured places for several players at British clubs, is now consultant to the T&T team. "Till seven years ago I didn't know where the f**k Trinidad was," Berry told me. "There's an expression here, 'Trini to the bone' - well, I've always been English to the bone. But then I came across the Trini goalkeeper, Clayton Ince, and got him a contract at Crewe, and next thing I was flying to Trinidad on a regular basis, and finding players such as Dennis Lawrence, Jason Scotland and Carlos Edwards. I've developed a great affection for the place." Edwards, who knows that the World Cup "puts players in the shop window", may yet prove Berry's best investment. But at 27 he's also an example of how long it can take for T&T players to adjust to English football: one of six children from a poor family in Port of Spain, he began in local T&T leagues, then spent two years doing military service and five at Wrexham (where he acquired a Welsh-Mancunian accent) before moving up a league and joining Luton Town.
"It's a good feeling to take kids out of poor communities, and to see them making it in the UK and buying houses and cars," says Berry. "I also think playing in Britain gives them a different edge, and that's been helpful to the national team, which has more fighting spirit than it used to. Plus T&T now have Chris Birchall, who's a classic British bulldog. There were 196 teams trying to make the World Cup finals, remember. For a country this small to get there is fantastic."
The other key figure in getting them there has been the Trinidad businessman Austin Jack Warner, whom players nickname The Godfather and Berry describes as "a black Bill Shankly". Warner first became involved in T&T football as a young teacher, in 1971, and for the next 20 years struggled to put T&T on the world map, before becoming vice-president of Fifa in 1990. Officially, he's less involved with T&T these days; in reality, his ties are closer than ever. Indeed, it's arguable that he has done more for T&T at Fifa than he did during the two decades before. In 1990, there were just two places in the World Cup finals for teams from the Conacaf region; now there are three and a half - the half being the play-off spot, to which T&T beat Bahrain.
Few would bemoan the realignment that allows unsung teams from developing countries to progress to the finals: the tournament is the richer as a global spectacle for the inclusion of younger nations (and T&T has been independent only since 1962). But there are some who question Warner's integrity, chief among them the English journalist Andrew Jennings, who came to Port of Spain for the Peru match to promote his book Foul! The Secret World Of Fifa, and to make an accompanying TV documentary for Panorama. One morning I woke early and there was Warner on one television channel and Jennings on the other. Warner called Jennings a colonialist: "He's one of those people who think black people can't administer football, only play it." Jennings called Warner a racist for comparing him to a slave master. Warner claimed that Jennings had spent the past 10 years trying to destroy him. Jennings accused Warner of arranging lucrative contracts, through Fifa, for his sons and family. Warner said that some people in Trinidad were never satisfied, "but the majority are effusive in their praise of me". Jennings, no less full of himself, described Foul! as "a great book" and urged viewers to buy it, fast.
There's no doubt that some of Warner's manoeuvrings have been nepotistic and self-promoting. But as well as profiting from football, he has forked out his own money for the national side and raised the profile of the region. He's 63 now, with a slightly hunched, elder statesman quality, like Nelson Mandela. But he still wears flowered shirts, and watching him perform a limbo dance at a "cultural evening" before the Peru game, I could imagine him going on for some years yet, and even (unless the Jennings case against Fifa is made to stick) taking over from Fifa president Sepp Blatter.
Many doubted us before
But they can't do this no more
Respect to the max I'm sure
They know what we got in store
From Victory, by Maximus Dan
Inevitably, after all the build-up, the farewell friendly with Peru proved an anticlimax. When the stadium opened at 2.30pm, four hours before kick-off, street vendors had already set up outside the ground, selling hats, shirts, umbrellas, wristbands, whistles, cups, flags, scarfs, mints and tattoos. At the entrance, helpers were handing out free drinks and posters. But inside, as time dragged in the heat, several of the promised performers failed to show, and of those who did - Indian dancers, majorettes, kids parading in elaborate carnival costumes - only the singer Shurwayne Winchester really got the crowd going. It didn't help that parts of the ground remained empty; because of the unaffordable ticket prices, the 27,000-capacity stadium was short by 5,000 or so. The mood was festive, nonetheless, with women making up more than half the crowd, and the music vibrating from the loudspeakers loud enough to deafen ears and shake ribs. In front of me, an elderly man sat annotating his Bible, miraculously immune.
Eventually the teams came out. Having failed to qualify for the World Cup, Peru had sent a weakened team, but they were dangerous on the break, and after forcing two saves from the T&T keeper, Kelvin Jack, they duly scored. In midfield, T&T's little-known Aurtis Whitley was working his socks off, but for most players, understandably, the main priority was not to get injured. In fact, the biggest excitement of the first half was the substitution of Russell Latapy, who will retire after the World Cup - the game stopped for two minutes while he took a lap of honour.
The consensus among the media pack was that on this showing T&T pose little threat to England. And despite the efforts of the electronic scoreboard to liven up the second half with encouraging comments ("Nice try!", "Good save", "Awesome!"), the game was petering out disappointingly until a generously awarded free kick at the edge of the box allowed T&T the chance to scrape a draw: with Peru's defensive wall invitingly under-manned in a goodwill send-off gesture, the young striker Kenwyne Jones fired home - 1-1. National morale would have been damaged by defeat, but no one leaving the stadium seemed too unhappy with a draw.
Next day, the team got on with work that had really brought them here: diplomacy and PR. In Trinidad, they'd been presented with German dictionaries, shaken hands with sponsors, and the next night there would be a gala dinner; but today was the turn of Tobago, a 20-minute plane-hop away. With just 55,000 citizens, Tobago has a population smaller than that of Lowestoft. But two of the T&T squad were born there, Cyd Gray and Dwight Yorke, and Yorke, who claims to have a scar on his back that is the exact shape of Tobago (the result of being run over by a car and scalded by its exhaust pipe, when he was two), is by far the most famous player to emerge from these parts.
The most famous, but also the most notorious. In 2001, Yorke was kicked off the team, or "retired", after falling out with the new Brazilian coach, who thought the latitude given him - the first-class travel, the exclusive hotel suites, the right to opt in and out of training sessions - was having a destructive effect on the other players. This was the time of Yorke's affair with Jordan, though affair perhaps implies something more intimate and intense than existed: according to Jordan's autobiography, at the time he was seeing her, he was sleeping with dozens of other women as well. She became pregnant by him none the less, and against his wishes decided to have their baby, a boy, Harvey, who was born blind. Jordan's lurid account of Dwight - with his playboy lifestyle, philandering, meanness and narcissism (a week before she gave birth, he was still refusing to give her his phone number) - can't have failed to get back to Tobago, and I wondered how the people would take to him.
I had my answer as the team bus made its way across the island: hundreds of people came out to cheer. The route passed through the village where Yorke's parents still live, and in a wooded valley further on the veneration of the team captain became clearer still, as we pulled up outside the Dwight Yorke Stadium - even before his career is over, they're naming things after him. I followed the players down the tunnel and on to the pitch, to a tumult of noise: the main grandstand was packed out with children, who'd been given the afternoon off school. For the next hour, they listened to speeches from a stage specially erected on Yorke's field of dreams. A woman reverend delivered a prayer ("God, we praise you for your banner of love and unity that this team has brought to our nation"). Warner, the man who once denounced Yorke as "a cancer to the game", spoke in praise of his shining example. Then Yorke himself spoke, with ambassadorial gravitas, of the importance to him of "my homeland and my people. I hope and pray that the Soca Warriors help inspire you in your endeavour in life, whatever it is."
The pieties over, it was time for the fun to begin, with steelpans, calypso and a teasing rap number that told T&T's white boy, Chris Birchall, "If England nah want you, come here to the land of paradise and take five wives." Then came the girls in hotpants, shaking booty. Next thing, they were on stage, pulling the players to their feet, until the whole stage was moving and butt-shaking. It wouldn't happen in Beckham's England. Nothing that afternoon in Tobago could have happened anywhere else. The mixture of Christian piety, national pride and tropical hedonism is inimitable.
Oh, island in the sun
Willed to me by my father's hand
All my days I will sing in praise
Of your forest, waters, your shining sand
From Island In The Sun, by Harry Belafonte
Not every T&T player is starry-eyed about home. "I can't imagine coming back to live here," Carlos Edwards told me. "We might be just a dot on the map, but we're also the fifth most dangerous country in the world." However, most of his team-mates say that when their careers are over they will return, to "give something back". And all are conscious of the example they've set already. Naipaul's Trinidad was a society that denied itself heroes, "where the stories were never stories of success". But Warner predicted that T&T would reach the finals, and predicted they'd be drawn in England's group, and now he's predicting they will beat England on their way to the knockout rounds.
On the face of it, they've little chance of succeeding. Only three teams from the Caribbean have gone to the World Cup finals (Cuba in 1938, Haiti in 1974 and the "Reggae Boyz" of Jamaica in 1998), and all came home with heavy goal deficits. "Small axe does cut down big trees," people say, but a man on Store Bay beach, carving melons with a rusty hacksaw blade, was more sanguine: "We have our own lickel skills, but we play too slow, man, and when we play dem big teams we going to need speed and stamina."
But little teams have beaten teams such as England before, just as lower-division opponents have surprised teams from the Premiership in the FA Cup. And even if T&T lose every game, they've already triumphed by getting this far, an achievement acknowledged at the end of the Peru friendly when every member of the team was presented with a medal. That eBay chose to sponsor them, out of 32 teams, is indicative of their popularity as everyone's favourite underdog; there's the hope they'll "do a Cameroon" and surprise the world. It's not just their style of football that makes them appealing; it's those steel bands they bring, and the fans whose pleasure principle rivals Brazil's. Win or lose, T&T will make a lot of friends this summer. "They have no idea of country," Trollope said. They do now.
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