Like many, I have been bitten by World Cup fever -- though in my case that means prowling Roppongi looking for postgame action. While the English converge at Sports Cafe, throngs of Irish -- and an equal number of police -- have become a fixture every night in front of Paddy Foley's, regardless of whether or not Ireland played a game that day. Mexican fans have found their clubhouse at the Freshness Burger on the strip. After a win, you will find them crowding the street out front, playing spirited salsas on tin trumpets and accompanied by impromptu street percussion.

Last Saturday, I was hoping that Italy would win, since I was in the mood for drinking Chianti. Instead it was the Mexicans (again) and the Croatians, who sadly seemed homeless; large groups of them could be seen walking up and down the street, never finding their niche. And, though Brazil is playing in Korea, their fans were crowding into every little Latin bar within an easy samba of the Almond crossing. Which made me remember Acaraje Tropicana -- a spacious cantina a little further from Roppongi. And, of course, it was going off . . .

Tropicana is an offshoot of a funky little Latin hole-in-the-wall that was so popular they had to open a bigger place. The original still exists, but Andi, the owner, likes to keep it a secret from not only the rest of Roppongi but also the regulars at Tropicana. Instead, Andi nurtures a young funky Japanese clientele at the original Acaraje, but he would never turn away an old-timer -- those who have already lost too many brain cells in the name of caipirinha (that dangerous Brazilian concoction made from cachacaand ordered with the same gusto with which Bart Simpson cries "Ay caramba!").