had a few people coming here making inquiries. What's the big deal with these guys anyway?'' The question was cranked out in a bored, mechanical way.

Clearly, the rather bulky security officer behind the counter at one of the entrances to Miami's Dade County pre-trail detention centre was not desperate for a response.

None was given.

A few miles away at The Miami Herald, inquiries about the Bermuda soccer players kicked off again in earnest.

Different setting, different people, and largely different questions, but different reactions? Not exactly.

"Look, if seven members of the Miami Dolphins had been arrested and charged with drug offences, then yes, of course we would be interested,'' explained Deputy City Editor Mr. Rick Hirsch.

"We would ask questions about the supervision of the coaches. It would be a big story. But seven Bermuda soccer players? Soccer is not even a big sport here.'' And that was not all.

Mr. Hirsch was far from impressed by the amount of dope the players allegedly possessed -- eight pounds of cannabis.

"Hey. This is Miami. If you were talking about 100 kilos of coke, then that would be different, but eight pounds of pot? That is nothing, and these aren't even local athletes.'' One young reporter even burst into giggles at mention of eight pounds. So while the story may have rocked Bermuda, on the journalistic Richter scale in Miami it has barely registered.

A six-paragraph Miami Herald story the day after December 9 arrests, jokingly referring to "illegal souvenirs'' the Bermudians bought back from a tournament in Jamaica, was all that troubled the public consciousness here.

Go to TV and radio stations, bars, Pizza huts, or restaurants, and you will be met by similar blank stares or indifference. Ditto virtually everyone else in Miami, except a few lawyers, Policemen and Customs officers. While the security officer at the detention centre -- where six of the players were temporarily held, -- had heard of the affair, he was not interested.

Most people, however, have not even heard enough to be bored.

As Mr. Hirsch pointed out, eight pounds of pot in Miami is, journalistically, speaking laughable.

A brief look at Miami's drug trade will explain why.

In the 1980s, Miami was viewed as the Casablanca of the Caribbean, notorious for cocaine cowboys who carted cash to the bank in shopping bags.

Indeed, drugs were a key economic pillar, just as tourism is in Bermuda.

In 1985 a bizarre test of "greenbacks'' from Miami banks demonstrated just how key.

Random samples of cash were tested for traces of cocaine and all were tainted, demonstrating the extent of drugs use in the area.

Miami has bigger things on its mind than soccer scandal Since the 1980s, officials claimed there had been some improvement, said Mr.

Hirsch. He highlighted a recent Miami Herald story which suggested the South Florida authorities had a better handle on the drug economy, so much so that 27 new Internal Revenue Service investigators were being assigned to tax evasion cases instead of money laundering.

Former South Florida IRS director Mr. Merlin W. Heye told the paper the authorities had been "very unsophisticated,'' and under-equipped. "Since then the situation has changed. A lot more protection has been put in place.

Now we are moving to a much more balanced approach to law enforcement.'' As an example, the FBI and the Drug Enforcement Administration, which combined with the military and the Blue Thunder boat service of Customs to capture offshore drug runners in the 1980s, were now prowling inner-city neighbourhoods plagued by drugs and violence.

The effort has produced results. Eighteen people were recently charged in connection with a Miami drugs ring which allegedly turned $10 million of cocaine powder into crack, laundered its proceeds and had a sideline in cellular phones.

Not that the new federal approach does not have its sceptics, among them retiring South Florida Customs agent-in-charge Mr. William Rosenblatt.

Mr. Rosenblat told the Miami Herald that he was worried that drug interdiction resources were being shifted to the Mexican border in the belief that Miami was no longer a prime port of entry for drugs.

He highlighted the big increase in Customs seizures in South Florida: Nearly 100,000 pounds of cocaine in 1994, up from 83,000 pounds in 1983. He also noted that Customs lost some 30 investigators positions to government "right-sizing'' in recent years.

"The traffickers are continuing to beat our brains out in South Florida,'' he said the paper. "There is a false sense of security. Anybody who believes the narcotics smuggling war has been won in Miami must be using the stuff.'' Strong words, indeed.

At the Miami Herald the electronic library is stacked with hundreds of drugs stories.

"The drugs trade here is a multi-billion dollar industry,'' said Mr. Hirsch.

Whether the sceptics are right or wrong about federal efforts to crack down on the trade, one thing is clear: Miami woud love to have the kind of drug problem that Bermuda is facing, bad as it is.

So as Miami in its post Super Bowl phase turns the spotlight on another big point of interest -- its 12th annual film festival -- the tale of seven Bermudian soccer players will continue to unfold unnoticed.

As well as the film festival, the big stories here are the investigation of the Tamiami Trail strangler and the unusally nippy weather, blamed on a cold front from western Kentucky moving into southern Louisiana. Icy weather has disrupted flights, leaving scores of people standed at Miami Iternational Airport.

Against these stories, eight pounds of pot is...well...not worth talking about.