I don't know much about soccer. I realize that it is, by a wide margin, the world's most popular sport. I'm told that players can't use their hands, which renders it a particularly sweaty equivalent of bobbing for apples. I understand that the game harkens back to my high-school days, in that it involves lots of guys running around like lunatics and mostly not scoring.

Cologne Central Station shows off the world soccer vision. (Getty Images)

Other than that, I'm as clueless as Colonel Mustard in the conservatory. As a guy who fancies himself something of a sports fan, however, I can't in good conscience sit out the upcoming World Cup. To do so would be borderline irresponsible, frankly. And besides, like I'm supposed to watch hockey instead?

So with the games set to begin on Friday, I journeyed on down the path to soccer enlightenment. Generous guy that I am, I figured I'd share my accumulated wisdom with similarly situated dolts. I thusly present The Ignorant American's Guide to the World Cup.

While having an ignorant American write this guide may well defeat its underlying purpose, rest assured that I've done my homework, interviewing several people with funny accents. Since labeling non-midwestern accents "funny" is one of the bona fide calling cards of American ignorance, I knew I was on the right path from the get-go. Let's dive right into it.

What is this "World Cup" of which you speak? Only the biggest sporting event in the free world (and the unfree world, for that matter). In 2002, the total television audience for the tourney was something like 29 billion, with more than 1.1 billion tuning in for Brazil's victory over Germany in the finale. This is big, dude. Bigger than the Super Bowl. Bigger than the Beatles. Bigger than Brando's undergarments.

How does the World Cup work? Are end-of-game, tie-breaker shootouts involved? Because those are very easy to understand. Following round-robin play among the four teams in each group, two advance into the single-elimination "knockout" round. Draws (that's "ties" to you) are A-OK in the first round; after that, we go to extra time ("overtime") and then penalty shootouts ("penalty shootouts").

Tiebreakers for advancement into the knockout round are, in order: goal differential (goals scored minus goals allowed), total goals, head-to-head results and drawing of straws. If somehow we get down to the latter and jolly ole England gets screwed, their fans will make martyrdom-inclined Red Sox devotees appear positively well-adjusted by comparison.

Who's playing? Thirty-two countries, divvied up into eight groups. You've got a nice mix of established powers (Brazil, Italy, Argentina) and newbies (Serbia & Montenegro, Togo, Angola). For the quick-to-judgment morons among us, the tournament offers a trio of convenient villains (Iran, France, Germany) and one soaring, majestic bald eagle of a good guy in the form of the U.S. of A, coached with Parcells-ian menace by Bruce Arena.

Wait a second … we play soccer in this country? That's crazy talk! We sure do -- and apparently, we're getting slightly better at it. The U.S. team heads into the tourney with a semi-deserved top 10 world ranking and a healthy sense of self bolstered by a quarterfinal World Cup run in 2002. Top players include forward Landon Donovan (a scorer with the maddest of mad skillz, yo), midfielder DaMarcus Beasley (quick and puny, in all the best ways) and physical defender Oguchi Onyewu, who hits like a free safety and runs like a puma.

One small problem: the U.S. finds itself in the "group of death" with the Czech Republic, Italy and Ghana. Expect to hear many a rejoinder of, "Oh yeah? Well, they don't have cheeseburgers, muscle cars and Scarlett Friggin' Johansson!" when the US fails to make it past the first round.

Will I get the chance to chant "U-S-A! U-S-A!" and generally give patriotism a bad name? Sure! Antisocial behavior is as much a part of international soccer as is snooty disdain for anything red, white and blue. While one of the aforementioned funny-accent people told me that the English soccer hooligan is but a "mythical evil creature," you can expect to see more than a few dentally challenged wackjobs cavorting in post-game riot footage. Others who get high marks for low behavior include the Dutch ("mean and clever") and the Italians ("they add an almost neo-fascist element").

What are some of the rules that I'm totally not going to understand? You'll almost certainly have no idea what's flying with offside (basically, somebody's gotta be in front of the player receiving the ball). You'll also be quite confused about the whole yellow/red card thing (you get a yellow card for the first unpermissioned game of footsie or a comparable offense, then a red for the second; the team whose player gets a red card plays one man short for the rest of the game). I'd say something here about injury time, in which the game clock gets extended indefinitely, but I haven't been able to find a single coherent explanation of its mechanics.

What are the terms that are going to make me furrow my brow in a sad attempt to comprehend that which is beyond my intellectual means? Football is soccer. American football is football. Boots are sneakers. Nil equals zero. A pitch is a field. A good side is a good lineup/rotation. Friendlies are games, often international, between two teams that aren't in the same league. A wanker is a jerkass, in the World Cup as in watering-hole pugilism.

What are the things I should say to make me sound smart? Talk up the incident in which hothead young Brit Wayne Rooney cracked his foot (it may or may not have had something to do with faulty boots, depending upon which self-appointed online pundit you believe), and the possibility he'll be ready to play in the knockout round. Reference Maradona's "Hand of God" goal against England in 1986 and Pelé's three World Cups. Be sure to refer to Onyewu as "Gooch."

What are the things I might say that will expose my distinctly American ignorance to anybody who knows what he's talking about? Do not ask, as I did, "What's the first, opening kickoff called?" (The answer: "The opening kickoff.") Learn how to pronounce players' names ahead of time. Do not refer to English team captain David Beckham as "Mr. Posh Spice," unless you're watching the game with Ginger or Sporty. Finally, be forewarned: yelling "GOOOOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!" and running around the room with your arms flapping goofily will get you stabbed -- justifiably, I might add.

Who's the dark horse? How the hell would I know? I've watched all of three soccer games in my life, and two involved my little sister. That said, smarter folks than I believe that several African nations are on the cusp of asserting themselves on the international stage. Go with the Ivory Coast, its paramilitary juntas notwithstanding.

Who's gonna win? Just as baseball ignoramuses (ignorami?) automatically assume the Yankees will triumph, I'll put my money on defending champ and five-time winner Brazil. They've got this Ronaldinho guy who not only does ungodly things with the ball (treat yourself to a YouTube search of his most dazzling moments), but also resembles one of the Milli Vanilli guys when he wears his hair down. How can he possibly lose?