As a rule, major sports events are built up by the media until expectations reach fever pitch -- and then they disappoint. The World Baseball Classic though, hasn’t followed the script.

If you look up the word "maligned" in a dictionary, there might well be a picture of Bud Selig next to it. Baseball followers are so used to disparaging his every move that the skepticism greeting the arrival of the WBC was inevitable -- If Bud’s behind it, it has to be a dud.

In fairness to the doubters, there were good reasons to be pessimistic. The absence of so many star players, for one reason or another, threatened to devalue the tournament. Even the players who had chosen to play seemed unsure whether the standard and intensity of play would be strong enough. The argument that the WBC would detract from spring training exhibition games wasn’t so convincing -- were pre-season warm-up games really more important than the global future of the sport?

In any case, as the tournament roared into action -- especially when the Latin American teams began performing in front of wild, screaming fans -- it was clear that something good was happening. Games were being played in a manic, frenzied atmosphere, quite unlike anything witnessed at regular major-league games. Fans were yelling, singing, waving flags, banging drums, even dancing in the stands. Before long, players were calling it the best experience of their careers; some were even waving flags themselves.

The Classic has shown baseball in a new light. Staging some of the games in Japan and Puerto Rico was a smart move, making it feel like a genuinely international event. Television viewers in the United States, and elsewhere, have had a rare chance to see something of the baseball cultures of Latin America and the Far East.

Not only have the scenes in the stands been refreshingly unfamiliar, but (maybe with the exception of the big-hitting Dominicans) the Latin and Asian teams’ styles of play have been a revelation: tight pitching, clinical fielding and intelligent manufacturing of runs, with the team ethic very much to the fore. It’s all in sharp contrast to the power-oriented style prevalent in the United States today, where individual statistics and Hall of Fame credentials sometimes seem more important than team achievements.

Although there was some inevitable hand-wringing in the American media about the USA team’s lackluster performance and early exit, it was also widely accepted that this wasn’t an entirely bad thing. If the Americans had steamrollered every team in their path, winning the tournament with ease, it would have reinforced the feeling among many sports fans around the world that baseball is a game played by Americans, for Americans, and that the rest of us can happily ignore it. The successes of other teams, partly at the expense of the USA, helped to boost the game’s international profile.

Let’s not get carried away, though. Much has been said in the last two weeks about baseball’s supposed ‘global appeal’, with the game apparently captivating huge audiences all over the planet. In truth, most of the world paid little or no attention to the World Baseball Classic, and generally ignores baseball altogether.

The tournament has barely been mentioned by the media in Europe, where baseball only has a minor following. (As an example, the only British TV channel showing the WBC was a subscription channel aimed at fans of North American sports. So much for bringing the game to a wider audience.) There are vast swathes of Asia, Africa and even Latin America, where the game is almost unknown.

What next for the World Baseball Classic? Plans for a repeat in 2009, and every four years after that, have already been announced. Other potential venues will be looked at, including Japan and even Cuba. This year’s tournament has been a promising start, but MLB will surely be looking to build on it, making each Classic bigger and better than the one before it.

Expansion has to be one of the long-term goals. But it would be a mistake to add teams who would be hopelessly out of their depth -- it will only be worthwhile if a number of countries, beyond the 16 that took part this year, begin to show that they can compete at WBC level. A qualifying tournament, for some of baseball’s developing nations, could help with the quality control.

For commercial reasons at least, Europe must be a major target. The 2006 Classic only had two nominally European teams: Italy, mostly Americans of Italian extraction; and the Netherlands, featuring many players from the distinctly un-European locales of Aruba and Curaçao. (Admittedly, this kind of thing has been seen in other sports: the Rugby League World Cup in 2000, for example, featured a ‘Lebanon’ team made up entirely of Australians.)

There’s room for improvement in some aspects of the Classic. Umpiring is the most glaring problem -- for the sake of the tournament’s credibility, umpires from neutral countries are essential. And, when American umpires are used, they really should be Major-League ones. A less bewildering tie-breaker system would be a welcome improvement, and the pitch-count limit made some of the weaker teams, lacking depth in the pitching department, even weaker.

If anyone’s hoping to see WBC rivaling soccer’s World Cup as a global, mass-audience event, they’re in for a pretty long wait. The gulf between the two events, at this stage, is enormous. But MLB can hope to establish it as a credible, significant event, on a par with world championships in sports such as basketball, cricket and rugby; and as a major part of baseball itself, not just a curious diversion that butts into spring training every few years.

How can baseball grow in those parts of the world that have resisted it so far? MLB’s approach seems to be, well, all about MLB: marketing, TV deals, academies for budding young players (to be scouted by MLB teams), and the occasional big-league game being staged in Europe or Asia.

Is this going to work? Possibly not. Baseball has found its way into the fabric of life in such diverse countries as Cuba and Japan, but mostly without the help of Major League Baseball. For the game to build a solid, lasting presence in new territories, it will need to find a way to fit into different cultures, and to develop from the grass roots upwards. If the sport is imposed on other countries by American marketing men, without enough consideration for local cultures, it’s unlikely to win many friends. The failure of NFL Europe in Britain and Spain should act as a warning here (it can only be a matter of time before it has to be renamed as NFL Germany). Whether the likes of Bud Selig are capable of grasping this point is doubtful, but it’s a crucial part of the challenge ahead of them.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, MLB’s global adventures have been prompting a few grumbles from the traditionalists in the US. The WBC, and the staging of early-season games in far-flung corners of the world, have disrupted the near-sacred rituals of spring training and Opening Day. Major League Baseball wears its American heart on its sleeve, making the most of the game’s status as the national pastime, a part of the American way of life. Can it carry on doing this, while furiously courting the outside world at the same time?

Perhaps MLB could take a back-seat role in the global development of the game, concentrating on its home patch, while the International Baseball Federation takes the lead (maybe with some discreet support from MLB). But it’s hard to imagine MLB holding itself back. It can smell money out there in the wider world, and it wants a big slice of it.

So, Major League Baseball faces a dilemma as it tries to expand its horizons: can baseball be both quintessentially American, and a global phenomenon, at the same time? Unless someone can find a way around this little predicament, soccer has little to worry about.