This bar is France. And that one over there will be Germany. Across the bridge, those will be group C."

It's approaching midnight on a cold, blustery Monday night, and I've somehow found myself shuffling along the alleys of Houhai, hands buried deep in my pockets. I'm led by David Song, the man hoping to bring foosball to the Chinese masses. He walks and talks with a fury that is making his slight frame bounce. I just want to find someplace warm and have a beer.

"Some people say I'm crazy," explains Song, "but I don't hear them. I just choose my own life." He pauses. "Baby foot is like my son." I don't ask him who the mother is.

A native of Guandong, Song gave up a promising career as a media exec to pursue foosball, called "baby foot" in China. Following a fifth place finish at the World Championships in 2002, he dedicated himself to promoting the sport across China. "Everyone can play, it's easy to learn. And Chinese people are good at controlling small balls. I want Chinese foosball to be like Ping-Pong, number one in the world."

In his quest for world domination, Song has been busy organizing competitions, proselytizing public officials and persuading bar owners to install tables (thus, our Houhai visit). This summer, running parallel to the World Cup in Germany, Song is organizing 32 bars in the Houhai District into a foosball battle-royale, with each bar representing a different country or group. "Just like the World Cup," he says.

In March, teams from across China converged on a hotel south of Beijing for an event that was part sporting event, part Star Trek convention. Competitors ranging from baby-faced 16-year-olds to hardened middle-aged rummies competed. Teams of two donned high tech gloves, performed foosball calisthenics and played with table-shaking power. This was not the game I remember playing at home with friends.

The players deftly tugged the handles: passing, juking and moving the ball so fast that the human eye couldn't even follow it. "We tried to get CCTV to film it, but they said the ball is too small and moves too fast to be good on television," laments Song. That, and maybe the use of condoms used to sheath the handles and improve friction, might not fly with the censors. Yet, despite all the skill, in a hotel conference room with Kenny G playing in the background and not a beer in sight, the foosball frenzy seemed out of place.

So, back to Houhai. In addition to the bars, Song explains over bottles of Tsingtao, foosball tables are being installed in schools, and open tournaments for all ages are being held across the country. In May, Beijing will host an official ITSF World Tour Tournament, open to players of any nationality, from seven years old and up.

David and I eventually team up to play against the owners of the Red Bar, a husband and wife duo who placed fourth at the national team tournament. I am too dazzled by Song's wizardry to be a worthy teammate. We lose. David pats me on the back. "I love this game," he says, "and I just want to share it with everyone." I