The great depression has struck. It is sweeping through vast swaths of land on both sides of the Himalayas, drowning in sorrow a sizable chunk of humanity.

Lest you be alarmed, this isn't about melting glaciers or economic downturns. It is only how I imagine many soccer fans in China and neighboring India are viewing the end of the FIFA World Cup 2014.

The "biggest show on earth" has entertained people in the world's two most populous countries as much as it has elsewhere. But the televised tournament also kindled hope in these two nations that someday their teams will qualify for the World Cup.

China and India are high on fans (both nations seldom face a problem with numbers) but low - very low - in international soccer ranking.

China stands at 94 and India at 151 in FIFA's latest list.

China is a top medal winner in individual games at the Olympics and at least two of its tennis and basketball stars are global celebrities. India is a dominant force in world cricket and was a longtime field hockey champion. But neither country has been able to find a foothold in world soccer.

I have wondered why as I wandered through the many sports bars of Beijing in the past month, munching on fries while supporting Argentina. Yes, Lionel Messi and his men's loss at the final match against Germany left me heartbroken.

Earlier, at a bar in eastern Beijing, where two friends and I had gone to watch a quarterfinal match between Argentina and Switzerland, I saw a middle-aged Chinese man arrive just before game time along with a younger Chinese man.

Although the place was packed with frenzied people, the older man was ingenious enough to hastily make room for himself, his Apple computer, his two cellphones, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and the younger man - in that order.

After which, each time Argentina or Switzerland missed an opportunity to score a goal, the senior man would move close to the room's main TV screen and let out a big sigh.

Throughout the match, of course, he had "errand boy" fetching him beers, cigarettes and guarding his gadgets when he went to the toilet.

It wasn't clear which team he silently rooted for but the "boss" looked like someone who was there for the love of the sport.

China last came closest to the World Cup in 2002, when they failed to score in three games in the qualifying rounds. Last month, the Xinhua New Agency described the current national team as "almost hilariously bad".

But the picture was prettier in the early 1990s, when professional soccer clubs were doing well and local players earned money. Subsequently, media reports suggest, corruption set in and corporate sponsorships dried up for a while.

Some commentators, however, argue that soccer has survived graft in other countries.

The Chinese Super League generates interest across the mainland, but top local clubs such as Beijing Guo'an seem to employ many foreign players as I noticed at a match last September.

In India, teams owned by Indian cricketers, Bollywood actors and businesses are set to compete at the Indian Super League's first season later this year. Although in soccer-crazy India, the government is still being urged to free up land to train young players.

"I can provide them (with) a coach and football but where is the piece of land?" D K Bose, president of the New Delhi-based Hindustan Football Club, told Indian news agency ANI last month.

A raft of explanations later, I don't fully understand why China and India remain goalless. But perhaps I will after eating more fries at midnight.

satarupa@chinadaily.com.cn