What really hit Garber, Claure and Oliver was the realization that Miami is a bizarre sports town. Many would say lousy. We only support winners, and even then we're unreliable. The University of Miami football team has struggled to fill seats, even when it was the best, most entertaining team in the nation.
The Marlins have won two World Series titles, yet have the worst attendance in baseball, by far. The deal for a new stadium -- the panacea! -- is in limbo as it suddenly dawns on commissioners that they gave away the store to the wealthy owner of a franchise that, like U.S. soccer, inspires ambivalence.
When they are not hot, the Heat and Panthers can only count on their core of loyalists. College basketball has never caught on.
''We've got world champions, but we don't hunger for sports,'' said Fort Lauderdale's Ray Hudson, transplanted Englishman and soccer authority as a commentator and former coach and player.
The Miami FC soccer team played at Tropical Park, a decent venue. It's minor-league soccer, but pro soccer nonetheless. Yet many games only drew a few hundred fans, and the team is on the verge of folding if it can't sell 5,000 season tickets fast. The Fusion, our last MLS team, couldn't survive.
We have handy excuses about the array of diversions, as if Chicago and Boston were lacking.
The fact is, it's a quirky place with little sense of place. Sports fulfills a territorial urge, a need to belong to ''my team'' and declare, ''We won.'' Most people here are from someplace else. Their favorite team, the one they grew up loving, is in New York or Bogota.