Forty-two days to go. Until the World Cup starts in Germany, that is. Nope, there's no escaping it, sports fans! In Hamburg, where bills sent to me converge, the electronic displays at subway stations and bus stops, besides showing departure times and destinations, are counting down the days until The Big Event.

Forty-two days to go, and counting. The gloom that gripped the country last month, the feeling of impending fiasco, has lifted, if only tentatively. When we last left our hero, Jürgen "Grinsi-Klinsi" Klinsmann was under withering fire. The Italians had drubbed his young charges by a score of 4-1, and he was also taking flak for flying back to California. Sunny California, mind you, far from oft-dreary Germany.

That's where Klinsmann, a former German soccer star who coaches Germany's national team, lives with his American wife and kids. Nothing wrong with that, so long as Team Germany wins. So long as Germany wins, he could live on the moon if he liked. Or in a commune with ax murderers and child molesters, for that matter. But as soon as Germany loses, the critics toot their horns. Why the hell is Germany's coach living in America? Why the hell did he hire an American fitness guru, not to mention an American sports psychologist? Why the hell are our soccer players heaving medicine balls, practicing with elastic bands tugging at their waists, and doing yoga? When's the last time the smarty-pants Yanks won the World Cup, anyway? (Answer: never. Germany has won three times).

There was, until recently, another burning question: Why the hell is Klinsmann making King Kahn fight for his job as Germany's starting goalie? Imagine, the great King Kahn, with 84 caps and a big head to match!

This last gripe was serious indeed. King Kahn, aka The Titan, is Oliver "Olli" Kahn, who earns a decent living protecting Bayern Munich's goal. For the uninitiated, Bayern Munich is Germany's top soccer team -- the most successful, the richest, the brashest. In most of Germany, it's also, understandably, the most despised aggregation of men in short pants. It's the New York Yankees of German soccer, if you get me (Yeah, I hear you in Boston!). Bayern Munich has won the German championship 19 times. It won again last year. And it'll probably win this year too, assuming the Earth isn't invaded by Mars and the rest of the season isn't cancelled.

Back to Kahn. One of the first things Klinsmann did after becoming Germany's coach in July 2004 was to remove the broad-chested, craggy-faced blond as captain and put his job as the country's No. 1 keeper up for grabs. Kahn had to prove himself vis-a-vis his rival, Jens Lehmann, who takes home his pay from the London club Arsenal. This indignity caused much buzzing from German soccer's killer B's: Bayern, Beckenbauer and Bild. Bayern Munich lobbied hard, too hard, for its man. The team's manager, Uli Hoeness, accused Klinsmann of waging a campaign of "psychological terror" that was hurting ol' Olli's play. "Kaiser" Franz Beckenbauer, the most revered figure in German sports, called the goalie duel "rubbish." Beckenbauer, who's from Munich, captained West Germany's 1974 World Cup champions, coached West Germany to a World Cup triumph in 1990, is president of Bayern Munich and heads the 2006 World Cup Organizing Committee. He's also a columnist for the mass circulation tabloid Bild Zeitung, the paper of choice for Germany's average Ottos and sharp critic of "sunny boy" Klinsmann.

The Bavarians hounded Klinsmann to choose quickly in Kahn's favor. Klinsmann, a Swabian with a reputation for stubbornness, coolly told them nothing doing -- he wouldn't decide until early May. The pressure built. So did friction between Kahn and Lehmann. Their duel became a national soap opera. And Bild kept bashing "Grinsi-Klinsi."

That's how things stood on March 22, when Germany played the United States in a friendly match in Dortmund. The Germans won handily 4-1 (the Americans were missing most of their best players due to injuries and club commitments, however). Klinsmann won a reprieve. "This win will allow us to carry on in the next few weeks in a much calmer atmosphere," he said, and pointedly noted that some of the criticism leveled at him had been "below the belt." Bild's headline the next morning read: "Klinsi, jetzt darfst du Grinsi!" (loosely: Klinsi, you can grin now!)

But the goalie duel remained unresolved. And the Bavarians turned up the heat on Klinsmann. On April 7, earlier than planned, he announced his decision: for Lehmann, whom he said was "slightly better." There were explosions of indignation. "Klinsi killt King Kahn!" screamed Bild. Hoeness spouted angrily that Lehmann wasn't better at all, and that Klinsmann had favored him from the start. Beckenbauer kept calm. Thank God the matter was finally settled, he said. Most of the German press agreed with Klinsmann's choice. Kahn, after all, had looked increasingly shaky in recent weeks, allowing a freakish goal against the U.S. and two giveaways on April 1 in a league match against last-place Cologne. Lehmann, meanwhile, was in the form of his life. On April 5, his Arsenal squad had reached the semifinals of the European Champions League with a 0-0 draw against Juventus of Turin. It was Arsenal's eighth straight shutout in the competition.

There was one loose end left. How would Kahn, who expressed shock and "boundless disappointment" at his demotion, react? Kahn, whose brilliant saves during the 2002 World Cup carried lightly regarded Germany to the final against Brazil. Kahn, who then fumbled a shot by Rivaldo at the unforgiving feet of Ronaldo, leading to Germany's 2-0 defeat. Would Kahn sulk on the bench? Quit the team in a huff? Most bets were on the latter. When he called a press conference on April 10, people held their breaths. Often quick to boil over, Kahn was oddly relaxed. "This cannot be about personal vanity. It's about something much bigger, a World Cup on home soil," he said, adding that he accepted Klinsmann's decision and would do whatever he could to help the team.

Fast forward to April 25: Arsenal advanced to its first Champions League final with a 0-0 draw against the Spanish squad Villarreal. Lehmann had now gone 745 minutes without conceding a goal, a Champions League record. And he did it in grand style, blocking a last-minute penalty. Bild called him "Jens Supermann."

So all is hunky-dory in the land of the World Cup hosts. At least until May 27, when Germany plays little Luxembourg in a World Cup tuneup. If Klinsmann's team should stumble then, expect more hand-wringing and mud-slinging. Only double.