Chris Rattue: Warming up to South American time with winks and kisses

It's a chilly evening at Aussie Stadium, but the Uruguay team are in no hurry to warm up.

We're on South American time now, which means there is no time like later on.

"South Americans are always late," says Elizabeth Robledo, a Chilean-born photo/journalist from Sydney's HispanoAmerican newspaper.

"If people are coming for dinner at 7 o'clock, they will arrive at 8.30. Nobody cares. I hate it. That's why I live in Australia."

The Uruguay team are living up to this reputation.

Training was scheduled at 6pm, but it is about 6.30pm when most of the Uruguayan players enter the ground and saunter past three practising goalkickers, including 29-year-old captain Diego Aguirre, who is at his second World Cup.

As the players file down the stadium tunnel, each winks at, kisses, shakes hands with or hugs a woman World Cup official they have got to know. In league terminology, this is a 100 per cent completion rate.

Pablo Lijtenstein, their friendly media officer, gives the woman a hug, then moves along the sideline, shaking any available hand.

"There is a lot of kissing," the woman observes about her new friends.

A problem arises. The stadium room containing ice is locked. It is left to an Australian helper - a large unit with a pudding-bowl haircut and a Santa Claus physique - to issue a public comment.

"There would be plenty of ice if the bloody Poms were here," he booms.

He is a lone malcontent. Uruguay's coach and rugby legend Diego Ormaechea, who was 40 when he led "Los Terros" from No 8 in 1999, appears as unmoved as the rest of the squad.

Enter Uruguay's Minister for Sport, youthful-looking and sharp with a name to match.

Rugby is very proud of Pablo Ferrari, the national team manager for five years and the first "rugby man" to rise to such high Government office.

Ferrari has one of those immovable haircuts, like Virgil from Thunderbirds.

I suggest there should be plenty of Government money for rugby now.

"In Uruguay there is no money for rugby, we play for our heart," he says, slapping the left side of his chest.

Suddenly, the Minister for Sport races off with such high speed that some of his hair moves.

It's 6.30, and there's still no sign of any training action, and the minister's high- speed dash takes on significance - neighbours Argentina are about to kick off against Ireland in Adelaide.

Aguirre explains they've decided to watch the first half on television at the ground before hitting the training field.

The only Uruguayan rugby correspondent in sight says: "They are fascinated by Argentina. They are like the big brother."

Uruguay have already lost to South Africa (72-6) and Samoa (60-13) in Perth.

It will be 13 days since their last game when they take on Georgia at Aussie Stadium tonight, so they've had plenty of time to prepare, but these are not men who like to hurry anyway.

Aguirre, one of only 1700 senior players in Uruguay, is about to join his TV-watching comrades, but is happy to stop for a chat.

Georgia represents a chance for victory, before his rugby throwbacks hurl themselves at the physical and financial might of England in Brisbane on Sunday.

"It isn't good for rugby. Nobody wins in this case," he says of the huge defeats so far.

"A good result against England? If we score a try, or lose by not too many points, 50 perhaps . . . I don't know.

"It's difficult for us to confront, but now we are here we must do the best. All the time we learn about another speed of rugby.

"There are two or three levels at the World Cup ... but even if the big teams always played only against each other it would not be good for them. The good thing for us is it gets us contact so we can find more games for the future."

There are five professionals in the Uruguay team. They play for European clubs.

But captain and centre Aguirre lives in Montevideo where he owns a graphic design business. Many of his fellow amateur team-mates, who include his brother and first five-eighths Sebastian, have used up holidays for this rugby venture.

The Uruguayans reckon about a fifth of their fellow citizens, who can watch World Cup matches on an inexpensive pay TV channel, are eagerly following the rugby in their soccer-mad country.

There are about 30,000 Uruguayans in Australia, most in Sydney. At the Uruguay Club this week, ex-pats told Aguirre they would be out in force at Aussie Stadium tonight.

Many others among the 95,000 Spanish speakers in Australia, and a good few Aussies, also support these sporting underdogs.

"There were not many people from Uruguay in Perth," Aguirre said. "But all the people there started shouting for us. We lose, but when we were inside the field listening to that, it was amazing."

Further up the tunnel, a few players and officials sit on tables and plastic seats in a cold, concrete dressing room, watching the Argentines on television.

The Minister for Sport and other squad members have presumably found televisions elsewhere.

A handful of onlookers - the venue manager, the Aussie helpers, some media types and the object of Uruguayan affections - survey an empty field as the chill sets in and the sun goes down. It's 7 o'clock in Sydney, but we're all on South American time.