Before the World Cup final, Rio was infected with a sense of triumphalism that Brazil would win the tournament for a record-breaking fifth time. Newspapers printed maps of where the street celebrations would be held and of the route the players would take in their victory parade.

Pundits talked about the team's tradicao, a word which means tradition but also destiny and fate. It was the country's destiny and fate to be world champions, people said. One newspaper's front page was a picture of the French team with the headline "The Next Victim". Winning was thought to be a fait accompli.

Even though they'd had a shaky campaign - with a loss against Norway and a narrow escape against Holland via penalties in earlier rounds - the possibility that the team might lose was inconceivable. France were World Cup minnows.

And the usually circumspect Pele - still the most important voice in Brazilian football - had said on TV that the game was as good as won.

It was with such heavy expectation that I - as is de rigeur on match days - got dressed in yellow and green and went to meet about 40 people in a flat overlooking the Sugar Loaf mountain. There is no culture of watching games in bars or on screens put up in the street. Most people watch at home with their families and only step outside once the game is won.

We cheered as the team came on, sang along with the national anthem, and then sat down for the kick-off. The atmosphere soon changed from cheering to jeering. Then to silence. When the final whistle blew, almost everyone in the room was crying - men and women, adults and children.

"It's OK for us," said one woman through the tears. "But most Brazilians are poor and all the hope they have for happiness is football. What have they got now?"

Not only did Brazil lose - and second place means nothing here - but they played inelegantly. There was no merit to their performance. For months television, newspapers, conversations had been of little else than the glory of Brazilian football. Constant reference was made to the world-beating teams of the past. The game was not just a defeat. It felt like a national humiliation.

In contrast to what was expected, Rio's beaches and streets were empty in the few hours after the game. Then gradually people went out. It was a rainy winter evening, which compounded the sense of communal depression.

At the areas where music and dancing had been planned - places where after the semi-finals tens of thousands had drunk and danced until the early hours - the crowds were much smaller. There was no music and people just hung around looking sad. By midnight most of the streets were empty again.

For the five weeks of the competition, Rio had been transformed into a colourful carnival of yellow, green and blue. Ribbons in the team colours were hanging in almost every street. Flags were up in windows, a large percentage of people wore replica team shirts all the time and images of the players were painted on the streets. There was a sense of pride in the country - even though politics came to a standstill, the President's popularity soared.

Overnight the city changed back to its former self. All the decorations were torn down. No one was dressed in the team colours any more. Life was back to normal. Football, which had been evident everywhere you looked and to everyone you talked to, had disappeared. Brazilians may be the most passionate fans, but they also have the shortest memories.

On Tuesday the team flew in to Brasilia to be met by President Fernando Henrique Cardoso. Large crowds were not expected, although about 40,000 people turned up to see them arrive. Then the players slipped off to their home towns.

The controversy surrounding Ronaldo and whether he was fit to play has become a scapegoat for the defeat. Instead of accepting that the team was outplayed, people are coming up with myriad conspiracies.

All week e-mails have been flying around with outlandish explanations. The most-quoted one involves FIFA allegedly buying off the players in the hours before the match with a promise that the 2002 World Cup would be switched to Brazil from Japan and South Korea.

Brazil has been forced to come back to reality with a bump. Unemployment is at its highest for more than 10 years. A drought is still hitting hard in the north-east of the country. This week was also the beginning of the general election campaign. President Cardoso can no longer count on national footballing pride as a vote-winner.

Not for another four years.