RIO DE JANEIRO, Brazil -- You could question Osiris Lopes Filho's blind trust in the Brazilian tax system, his abysmal timing and even his temerity, given the stance he took. But no one, not even the targets of his public zeal, could possibly question his honesty.


A bureaucrat's bureaucrat, a chain-smoking Quixote in a rumpled gray suit, Lopes unilaterally decided that the country's World Cup heroes had to pay a toll on their smooth road to Olympus -- in the form of a tax on the 17 tons of merchandise that accompanied them on their triumphant return from Los Angeles.


What better way to demonstrate the importance of abiding by the public tax laws, of showing that Brazil is a civilized country where all are held accountable, than by politely but firmly asking the players to do their duty by paying duty?


"It showed it was viable to abide strictly by the law," Lopes explained at yet another press conference late last week.


For taking this high moral road, Lopes is now the country's (former) chief tax collector. He is the only official casualty of what can best be called the tragedy on the tarmac, the embarrassing episode that began last Wednesday night when Lopes' customs officials refused to release the players' "luggage" and ended a day later when he tearfully resigned.


The confrontation occurred 13 hours into the marathon three-city celebration that greeted the players. Already nine hours behind schedule because the crowds had been much bigger than expected, the welcome began to sour when the soccer delegation arrived at the airport here and learned of Lopes's surprise order.


His decision, which would have required the team to go through baggage inspection, went against the wishes of government officials who wanted normal procedures suspended.


Brazilian television showed nervous customs officials talking on cellular telephones while players milled around, some of them visibly angry. At one point, one of them took off the Order of Sport Merit, received hours earlier from President Itamar Franco, in disgust and offered to return it.


It was later learned that the president of the Brazilian Soccer Federation, Ricardo Teixeira, had threatened to cancel the Rio portion of the parade if the baggage was not released. Thousands of people had waited hours for the long-delayed reception, and with the public relations nightmare getting worse by the minute, officials found themselves in a lose-lose situation.


In the end, Lopes had his official legs cut out from under him by none other than the president and his finance minister, Rubens Ricupero. Last Thursday morning, about the time star player Romario was out window-shopping at car dealerships, Lopes gathered his staff in Brasilia and bade them a tearful farewell.


But those who were expecting him to go quietly were in for a surprise. The soft-spoken Lopes, an attorney and professor who earned high marks during his 14-month tenure as head of the national tax office, said the episode showed how the privileged systematically skirt tax laws. The only people who pay, he lamented, are salaried workers, who account for about 70 percent of tax revenues.


He said his aim from the beginning had been to level the paying field by going after the rich and powerful -- politicians, athletes, business executives, even the leaders of the samba schools and those who run illegal lotteries. He estimated that there are about 600 Brazilians with earnings that range from $92 million to $800 million a year who end up paying little or nothing in taxes. If the tax collection system were improved -- and he admitted there is no political appetite for accomplishing this -- Brazil could raise an additional $60 billion, he said.


In light of the hullabaloo surrounding the resignation, Ricupero ordered customs officials to try to collect any import taxes. How that will be accomplished is unclear, since the charter plane carried no precise manifest and the goods are long gone. There were 110 passengers on the plane -- 40 members of the soccer delegation and the rest hangers-on -- and the 17 tons of televisions, exercise equipment, computers and other high-priced items filled several trucks.


What is clear is that Lopes, by exiting as he did, has managed to score some points. In the process he is emerging as a sort of patron saint for honest government bureaucrats.


"The baggage episode is a defeat that ended as a victory," he said at a news briefing. "We have my sacrifice, but I believe" the tax system "has come out stronger. It has left those who think they can resolve things through tricks and special privileges ... on the defensive."